#odin's sons x reader

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Surprise Visit Pt 2 (Thor X Son!Reader)

Characters: Thor Odinson X Son!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: None

Pt 1

Request: Hi, I'm just finish Poco's udon world, and right of the batch I thought what if Poco is Thor's son, Poco has some of his feature too and I remember your fic Surprise Visit. Can you please do a Part 2 of it?🥺 reader is like Thor but he quite shy and always bring with books that his mother read before bed they bonding by activities together Thor bring him to Asgard to meet his grandparents Loki read them books, tell them stories, show and teach them magic (Harry Potter) with Freyaa and all fluff❤

The first few days after finally meeting your dad had been awkward to say the least. You were spending almost every waking moment either with him, or your uncle. You had expected that Loki would be a lot more awkward with you- or straight up wouldn’t like you from the get go, but it ended up being kind of the opposite. Thor had been a bit too eager from the get go to play the fatherly role, and you found it unnerving, and when Thor realised that (with help from Clint and Steve pointing it out for him) he backed up and started to just try and get to know you, your interests, your dislikes, and take things a little slower. Loki, on the other hand, was nowhere near as pushy, gave you space, and didn’t force conversation on to you. Eventually though, you ended up finding something to bond with Loki over; Books. 

You had been interested in the books he read, even if you couldn’t read the language, and worked up the courage to ask him about it, and after an explanation, he asked what kind of books you liked, and it was a start of an actual long and meaningful conversation. Loki took that, and hinted that Thor should look into those books. The next day, Thor showed up to your room with a pile of books in his arms and a grin on his face. 

Things since then had got a lot better between you and your dad. Instead of forcing it, or acting the part for the sake of it, Thor had naturally fallen into the father role that made it a comfortable change for you. Thor had little interest in books, but you had the ritual with him now of him buying a book for you, you read it, and after every chapter, you give him a rundown of what happened in detail, and you’d discuss it. You’d opened up a bit with him over the weeks, about what your life was like growing up with mum, holidays, key memories for you, and the rituals you two had- including reading books before bed together, which was where your love for books came from. Thor soon got you some of the books you mentioned, so you could do it with him. You got into a nice rhythm of living with and being around your dad and uncle, to the point where you were expecting it when an advancement was suggested. 

“How do you feel about going to Asgard with Loki and I, tomorrow?” Thor asked, as you were tidying up after another late night discussion about a book you had been reading- this one actually a recommendation from your Uncle Loki. You stopped what you were doing, and looked over at Thor, who waited patiently. 

“Uh… sure. Okay.” You agreed hesitantly, and immediately his face lit up. You had long guessed this conversation would happen, so you had time to prepare for it, though you knew that was actually impossible. What could prepare you for going to the land of gods- where you know you didn’t belong, even if Thor was your father? “Do… Do they know about me?” You asked cautiously. 

“Of course!” He immediately answered. “As soon as I returned to Agard after we met, I told mother and father about you, and my friends! I wanted to tell the entire kingdom, but mother- your grandmother, insisted we wait till you met them all first before telling the rest of Asgard. Freya, your grandmother, is the most eager to meet you.” He gushed to you. You’d heard a lot about your grandparents through both Thor and Loki. Admittedly, Thor was the only one who talked about Odin, and while Loki didn’t talk much about them, when he did, it was always about Freya, about how she was also a bit of a bookworm, and how she taught him magic.

You got up early the next morning, mostly due to struggling to sleep from the anticipation, and you didn’t have to wait for either your dad or uncle to be ready either, though you couldn’t tell if it was due to excitement or nerves, or maybe they were both feeling those things- your dad the excitement, and Loki the nerves. It didn’t help that your dad was a raving optimist, and your uncle was a pessimist, so you couldn’t tell who was feeling the right way, so you just adopted a bit of each of their emotions. Cautiously excited.

You honestly wasn’t sure what to expect when you actually got there, or even the process of getting there in the first place, but as soon as you left the Bifrost, you were in awe. Sure, they had told you all about Asguard- the rainbow path that led to it, the great kingdom, the beauty of it all, but none of that was in comparison to what you were actually seeing. You remained in stunned silence the entire walk up the bridge, actually entering into Asguard, past the several hundred people who came to welcome them back and ask about you, up until your father actually called for you, after seeing you distracted by something else further away. You turned, seeing several people stood with your father and uncle, looking at you smiling. “Y/N, these are my friends, Fandrall, Hogun, Volstagg, and Sif.” Your father introduced you.

“So this is the little prince?” Sif questioned with a smile. 

“Little? Thor, you said he was a boy! Give it a few years and he’ll be ready to be king!” Volstagg laughed, though the mention of such a role made you look at Loki quickly, and then your dad. 

“He is a boy! The very idea of being king is still a long way away- you make it sound like he’ll outlive me.” Thor defended. 

“Speaking of Kings.” Loki spoke up, placing  hand on Thor’s shoulder. 

“Right! Haven’t had the chance to introduce him to the rest of his family. We’ll pick this up later, promise.” Thor told them motioning you over, and guiding you deeper into the kingdom, down several expansive corridors, before you turned a corner, and spotted a group of women talking in the hallway ahead, and your father and uncle stopped. “Loki, stay here with Y/N.” Thor requested, before going towards the group, and you looked up at Loki confused, who patted you on the shoulder. You watched as your father approached the group, made some small talk, before all the women except one left down another hallway, and Thor stepped to the side, motioning the woman towards you and Loki, and you realised who she must be. Freya. Your grandmother. 

As soon as she saw you properly, she smiled warmly, hands clasped and pressed against her chest with excitement, and any fear you had- fear of not being liked, or not meeting their standards, of being a disappointment, being looked down on for being half human- it all faded. You could feel the love and acceptance radiating off the woman as she reached out her hands, and took your own. “Y/N, words cannot describe the absolute joy I feel to finally be in your presence finally after all of Thor’s descriptions.” Freya told you, gently squeezing your hands, and you couldn’t help but smile too. 

“I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you too from dad and uncle Loki.” You told her, and her smile grew, before she pulled you closer and wrapped an arm around you. 

“Thor- Loki, go tell your father that you’re here with Y/N- I’ll give Y/N a tour of the palace- we’ll be in the library when you’re done. We have a lot to talk about.” Freya decided, already walking away with you, and you didn’t fight it, leaving with her. 

Thor and Loki did as ordered, finding their father, letting them know they’d also brought you, and after a bit of back and forth questioning where exactly you were, and Loki explaining their mother had already stolen you away herself, and Odin simply sighed, and got up to follow his sons to head to the Library. 

By the time they met back up with you and Freya, you and her were already getting along like a house on fire- she’d asked about your mother, her health, your childhood, her own expieriences that related when raising Thor and Loki, and when she heard about your little tradition with Thor with books, she picked out a book for you to take home to read, and to keep. You felt comfortable enough with her to ask about Loki and Odin’s relationship, the comment Thor’s friends made about being King one day and how you weren’t big on the idea, and also how according to how your dad and Loki talked about Odin, you were much more worried about meeting him than her. Freya had answers your questions, reassured you of your worries, and promised Odin would be on his best behaviour, and she helped your first meeting with Odin a lot from the get go. 

As soon as Freya saw her husband, she stood first, smiling. “Odin, thank you for joining us. I was just about to ask Y/N if they’d like a private family dinner. What do you think?” Freya asked him, wrapping an arm around you again, and you smiled nervously at your grandfather, who was a lot more intimidating than you had anticipated. Odin didn’t talk at first, stepping a little closer, and you panicked internally, not knowing what to do, if you were supposed to do something- but Freya had kept her arm around you, gently rubbing your arm in reassurance. 

“That can certainly be arranged. It’ll let us get to know our grandson. Thor, will you come with me to make the arrangements?” He asked, of his oldest, who nodded. “See you at dinner, Y/N.” He told you, before making his leave, Thor smiling at you, before following after him. 

“In the meantime.” Freya spoke up once the two were quite a distance away. “Y/N, want to learn some magic?” She asked. 

“Mother, I don’t know about that…” Loki fussed. 

“Just beginning spells, nothing serious… we’ll save that for later. Maybe you could mentor Y/N as well when back on Midgard.” She suggested, and you realised that maybe, just maybe… Loki got some of his mischief from his mother. 

“Am I able to do magic? Since I’m half human?” You questioned. 

“I believe so, it’s worth a try. You coming Loki?” Freya questioned her son, who simply sighed, and followed after, deciding to be apart of his mother’s antics, knowing that Thor might lose his mind when he finds out about this. 

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my Gif

TAGS: @insanityismysanity12345 @klanceiscannon14 @marvelhoeingismyhobby @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort  @freyathehuntress @abbybills22-blog @mutantjediavenger @theoraekensnotsosecretlover @alicedanganh @sleutherclaw @sleepy-coffee-bean @stawwpp @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[simplyholl]

Happily Never After Pt. 1

Summary: A marriage proposal from Prince Loki is every princess's dream come true, except for yours.

Pairing: Asgard Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY. Loss of Virginity.

W/C: 3.4K

A/N: This will be two parts!

See My Masterlist Here

"Married to Prince Loki?!" You shriek. It was the most absurd thing you had ever heard. "Stop being dramatic, dear. You two are very close. Since Prince Thor is already promised, this is the best match we could secure. Your father and I thought you would be happy considering he is your friend, and not a stranger."

"We used to be close! That was ages ago! I loathe him, mother. This is unfair. I would rather marry a stranger." You protest, wiping your sweaty palms on your long gown as you pace the room. "Why do you hate him? We just visited them last week." She tries to reason with you.

"You said yourself he was your best friend. Do you not recall the tears you shed when your father forbid you from spending time with him unchaperoned?" She pours herself more tea, waiting for your reply. "Yes, well he was my best friend. He's a different person now. I barely know him." You look out of your window, the palace in clear view of your own estate.

Your father was king of a neighboring realm, when the ogres attacked, forcing your family to seek safety in Asgard. You were welcomed with open arms. Frigga and your mother became fast friends. Odin relied on your father's knowledge of the other realms' customs, so he became valuable to him. Frigga invited your mother for tea every day. She insisted your mother bring you along since she had two boys close to your age you could play with.

Thor was older, more focused on playing rough with the other boys. He never paid attention to you. Loki was only a year older than you. You often found him reading under a tree instead of playing. He didn't notice you at first until you insisted the older boys let you play. Volstagg accidentally knocked you to the ground.

When Loki heard you crying, he stood up for you even though Volstagg towered over all of you. He was an unusually large child. Loki brought you to his favorite hiding place. Deep in the woods behind the palace there was a treehouse. He explained that he often came there for solace. It was built for Odin thousands of years ago when he was a child.

Thor didn't like to play there because it was too far from the palace. He thought he would get in trouble. One evening, Loki lost track of time and fell asleep in the treehouse. When he was finally found, Frigga had the place cleaned up, so it wouldn't be dangerous. Ever since that day, you and Loki were inseparable. You used the treehouse as a secret lair for you two to spend time alone.

The other children didn't play with you. They only played with Loki because they were scared of Odin. You understood each other completely. You would make up stories and put on one person plays to share your creativity. You grew up together. It went from playing as children, to hiding out in the tree house after mandatory appearances at balls. You despised when your father wanted you to meet other royals. He would force you to dance with their sons. After two dances, you and Loki would slip away to your private place.

You would laugh about the cheesy things they said to impress you. You would never forget the first time your heart skipped a beat. You were laughing about the visiting prince who told you your gown was lovely. It was the most hideous shade of lime green the seamstress could find. You had requested it that way, so you could hide your beauty. You wiped tears of laughter from the corners of your eyes as you told Loki your reasoning for the unpleasing color.

"You should have known you couldn't hide beauty like yours even in that atrocious gown." His sentiment made you blush, your heart stopped beating as he held your gaze. His eyes lingered on your lips for a few seconds too long. You were sure he was going to kiss you. You closed your eyes in anticipation, feeling his face draw closer to yours. Then you were interrupted by Thor bellowing down below. Your father was looking for you.

You wouldn't be allowed out of his sight if he caught you out there. When you got home, you wrote everything down in your diary. How Loki had made you feel beautiful for the first time in your life, how you wished Thor and your father would have waited moments longer. The next day your father called you into his study, your diary in hand. Oh, how you wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

"I forbid you to see him ever again." Your father's stern words instantly made you cry. Loki was everything to you. You couldn't lose him. You told him it was just a silly crush. That what you had written was just a fantasy you made up. He finally believed your lies, but now you couldn't be with him unless you were chaperoned.

Hundreds of years went by, you were as close as ever. You still found your way around the chaperones. You would sneak out at night meeting at the treehouse. You would stay up half the night together laughing as you did when you were children. He would have you back in your bed before sunrise. You always thought it was unfair that you had to be chaperoned, but Loki could do as he pleased.

Then came your first heartbreak. A visiting prince had met you at one of Frigga's balls. He immediately asked your father to court you. You were devastated. You didn't want to be courted. You were happy with your life. But your father couldn't wait to marry you off. But the more time you spent with the prince, the more you liked him. He had dark hair and blue eyes, sometimes you pretended he was Loki.

But he wasn't and there was your whole problem. No one would compare to Loki. But if you had to marry someone, at least the prince was nice. The prince would often find you with Loki going on strolls through the gardens, eating, and reading in silence. One evening, he visited your estate. He said he wanted to end this courtship. You couldn't think of anything you did wrong. He explained that he was certain your affection lied elsewhere, and he wanted to be the only man in his future bride's life. You didn't understand what he had meant, but you thanked him. You were free once again.

Then the latest scandal sheet was delivered by your maid. It mentioned how you and the prince were getting close. You rolled your eyes, thankful that was over. But when you reached the last paragraph, your whole world shattered. Prince Loki had been seen at the brothel three times this week. Not only that, but he had been caught with an unnamed maid in his mother's garden.

It wasn't uncommon for royalty to fuck around like whores, but this truly wounded you. You cried for a week after it came out. Your mother thought you were upset over the prince ending your courtship, so she explained there would be other princes. You didn't visit Loki for three months after the scandal sheet came out.

Another one hundred years passed, and you had grown used to Loki's womanizing. You were at the market, Loki carrying your basket filled with trinkets, winking at the unsuspecting maidens. He made note of the ones he wanted to bed later. You rolled your eyes, as you handed your coins to the shopkeeper, peeling the orange you just purchased.

"Really Loki, can you go one minute without finding four new lovers?" You joked. "Jealous?" He smirked. "Of course not, don't be ridiculous." "The only reason you are not overcome with jealousy is because you do not know what I am capable of carnally." The bite of orange you had just taken lodged down your throat causing you to choke. Loki smiled, pleased with himself.

"Of course, I wouldn't know that, or care to find out. You shouldn't speak of such things so loudly. What if someone heard you?" You looked around, your maid, Greta had her eyes on the ground pretending she wasn't listening. Loki walked over to her, dropping a few coins into her hand, and whispering to her. You watch as she goes to the next vender looking at the silks.

Loki grabs your arm, leading you behind a tent. "Aren't you curious? Your parents keep you in the dark, only for the bumbling fool you end up marrying to spill his seed in a matter of minutes." You would be like the other princesses, not knowing what to expect on your wedding night, if it wasn't for Loki. He had told you all about the act some hundred years ago, so you would know what to expect. You were thankful for that, at least.

But now, when he was looking at you like that, and speaking of such things, you wished you didn't know. "You won't experience pleasure with them. They just want to produce an heir, and once that's taken care of, he will get a mistress. I don't want that for you. I hope that you find a love match, but that is highly unlikely considering your father allows anyone with a title to court you."

You consider Loki's words as he leans in, his breath tickling your ear. "Let me show you what you are missing. I'll make it good for you. You deserve to experience mind blowing sex at least once in your life." He was the devil himself; you were sure of it. He was so tempting. You knew he was experienced, and women threw themselves all over him everywhere you went. He had to be good at it.

"I - I'm not sure. I would be ruined if anyone found out. My father would kill you.” You whisper, just in case someone was listening. "That's not a problem, I would just marry you before your reputation took a hit." He smiles as if what he said wasn't crazy. "Loki, I couldn't ask you to do that. To be honest, I am frightened. Not of you, but of the act itself. It doesn't sound like it would be pleasurable. Oh, but it must be if every eligible maiden in the kingdom lets you have your way with them."

You continue your ranting until Loki grabs your hand. "I would be gentle with you. We could start slowly. We would only do what you are comfortable with." You agreed to meet him at the treehouse that night. When you're back in your chambers you call Greta in to question her.

"Greta, have you had sex before?" She gasps, looking everywhere but at you. "My lady, that is not appropriate." You sit on your bed, gesturing for her to sit beside you. "Oh, spare me, we have known each other since we were girls. So out with it." You fold your arms across your chest waiting for her to answer.

"Yes, there was one man." She answers, her cheeks turning red. "Greta! Who was it?" She smiles, "Bart, the baker's son. We had a lovely couple of months together, but then he married the butcher's daughter. You see, men are fickle creatures. They use you until they find someone else. So be warned, my lady, keep your heart out of it. Men can have sex without emotions, and us women, well we often times end up heartbroken."

Greta's words repeated in your head all afternoon. You had known Loki for centuries, so you didn't think he would hurt you. But you were tempted to turn around, go back to your chambers and pretend like none of this ever happened. Luckily, he was in the treehouse waiting for you, so you couldn't leave now.

"It has been brought to my attention that men will do this with anyone, so I know it will mean nothing to you. And apparently, it will mean everything to me. I just don't want to regret this." You confide in Loki. "My darling girl, this will mean everything to me too. You are far too precious to me for it to mean nothing. We don't have to do anything if that is what you wish."

"I think you are right. I deserve to feel pleasure, and I trust you. I'm just nervous." Loki cups your face in his hands, bringing himself closer to you. It was so similar to that night when you were teenagers, your stomach erupts in butterflies. You never imagined the cute, gangly boy you knew so long ago would grow into the devilishly handsome man before you.

He kisses you, and it is exactly how you had always imagined. It was as if no time had passed between the moment when he almost kissed you centuries ago and now. You felt exactly the same. When he finally breaks the kiss, you look at him with wide eyes. If just his kiss could make you feel like this, you were in trouble.

Loki sat you down on the old mat you used to read on as children. It had fresh linen on it. Loki must have put it on before your arrival. He pressed kisses to your neck, sharp teeth nipping at your exposed skin. He had you sit up so he could undo your dress, nimble fingers working quickly on your corset until all your clothing was sat aside. You were bare for the first time in front of a man, but you were not ashamed. You should have attempted to cover yourself, but when Loki looked at you like you were a priceless painting, you felt no need to.

Loki took his time kissing every part of you. He toyed with your nipples, and you felt yourself growing wet. When he lowered his head to take one between his lips, you finally understood why all those maidens would jump at his beck and call. He kissed his way down your stomach, nipping your upper thigh. He spread your legs apart, pleased with your arousal dripping down your thighs.

"May I?" He asks, pink tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip. You aren't sure what he is asking, but he knows what he is doing, so you give your consent. His tongue envelops you, sliding from your slit to your most sensitive part. "Loki!" You shout, as he continues exploring you. His tongue flicks your clit as your hands weave through his messy locks.

You never imagined it would be like this. And you suppose if it wasn't for Loki, you would never know. He slips a long finger inside you as he continues licking you, He stretches you, placing another finger inside. You jolt at the intrusion, his fingers curling to caress your walls. You feel like you are about to explode.

"Loki, I feel so wonderful." You tell him. His lips suction around your clit, tugging while his fingers work their magic. Stars explode behind your eyes as your first orgasm rips through you. Loki waits until you finish writhing on his face before coming up for air. He wipes your arousal off his face with the back of his hand.

You think that has to be the most attractive thing you have ever seen. But you are proven wrong when Loki undresses. He has filled out since the last time you saw him shirtless, when you were swimming as teenagers. He drops his trousers, hard cock springing free. You gasp when you see the size of him. You were beyond thankful he told you about the differences between men and women so long ago. What a surprise this would be if he hadn't.

"You still have time to change your mind, love. Just say the word and I will stop." He stalks toward you, lowering himself to the mat. "Please do not stop." You say breathlessly. Loki chuckles, settling between your thighs. "This will hurt, but only for a moment. Tell me when you are ready for me to move."

Loki sinks into you, pressure and pain causing you to cry out. "I'm so sorry. I can't help it. It will feel better soon, I promise." You grit your teeth as Loki bottoms out. He stills inside you, waiting for you to give him permission to move. You take a minute, adjusting to his size, before you tell him you are alright.

Loki slowly removes himself before filling you completely again. After a few thrusts, it starts to feel good. "Faster, Loki, please." You beg, clawing at his back as he ravishes you. His hand comes down between your joined bodies, skilled fingers swirling against your clit. The feeling you had earlier comes back full force, another orgasm sending you soaring. Loki pulls out, finishing on the fresh linen on the mat. You lay there, breathing heavily, looking at Loki. He truly is beautiful. "Shall we go again?" He asks, his signature smirk returning.

Loki laid with you three more times before the sun rose. He walked you back to your estate, making sure you made it inside safely before walking back to the palace. The next day, you were excited to see Loki. You secretly hoped you would spend the day in the treehouse.

"Mary was looking for you." Fandral tells Loki, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Well, you can tell her I never wish to see her again. She is of no use to me anymore." They laugh in unison, walking away as you round the corner. "Has someone finally caught your eye?" Fandral smiles. "Actually, I plan on asking the princess to marry me." Loki shocks Fandral who places a hand over his heart.

"Did you hear that, Greta?" You ask your maid, unwanted tears filling your eyes. "Yes, my lady." She answers. "Repeat what you heard please."

"Prince Loki said "You can tell her I never wish to see her again. She is of no use to me anymore." She looks at you with pity. "That's what I heard too. Oh, Greta." You collapse into her arms, sobbing. "Let's go home, my lady. We mustn't let the prince see that he has hurt you."

From that moment on, things were very different between you and Loki. He demanded to know why you avoided him now and why you never had a kind word for him. You never answered because he knew what he had done. He just didn't know you heard him talking about you. That was five months ago. Now, Odin was ordering him to marry and they had chosen you of all people.

If this happened before you would be ecstatic. Now, it makes you sick thinking about being alone with him. You had no choice. Your father had been trying to marry you off for centuries, and you always got out of your courtships somehow. You suspected Loki had a hand in it. But now that he wanted to marry you, there was no getting out of it.

You were expected at the palace by noon tomorrow. You paced the floor so many times, your footprints were probably embedded into the floor. Then you had the perfect idea. You would run away.

The next day everyone awaited your arrival. Your mother and father sat with Frigga and Odin having tea while they waited. Thor patted Loki on the back. "Finally, brother. Everyone saw this coming. I am very happy for you." Loki brought his cup to his lips, when a timid knock on the door interrupted them. He jumps up, rushing to let you inside. Instead of you, he is greeted by Greta. "Forgive the intrusion, your highness. It's the princess she ran away." Greta hands Loki the letter you left.

She sniffles, worried about you. While he reads the note, your father and Odin start planning on sending knights to find you. Frigga comforts your mother. "What does it say?" Thor asks, peeking over Loki's shoulder.

Greta, I cannot marry that pompous ass. I would rather live amongst the pigs. Do not bother looking for me, because you will never find me. Tell mother and father I love them dearly. Thank you Greta, for everything. I wish I could have taken you with me. All my love.

"No need to create a search team, father. I will find her myself." Loki states, leaving the room.

Tags

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[beah388love]

Too quiet…?

18+ Minors DNI!!!

Full Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

Pairing: Daddy!Thor x Little!Reader

Summary: someone says you’re too quiet for Thor and too different to be together

Warnings: crying,insults,mean comments,age regression!!!(please tell me if I missed any!!!)

You was picking flowers with one of the servants.

“God you’re so quiet..” she huffed as they sat on the floor picking the grass.

“Do you talk at all?” She scoffed

“I talk..” you mumbled but he didn’t hear you.

“Why’s the son of Odin even with you? He’s an extrovert, like a golden retriever” she sighed annoyingly, you could feel tears brimming your eyes.

“I’d be a better girlfriend to him than you.” She muttered but you heard.

“I’m gonna go get a drink. Stay here!” She spat at you and you nodded. As she walked away she stood on your flower pile, crushing them.

As soon as she left you cried. Your flowers all ruined.

Maybe she was right? Why was he with you?

You were the complete opposite of him?

You ran back into the palace, you rushed past the guards and servants as you covered your face.

And you ran straight to the place you always went to.

The greenhouse. Your favourite place, it was quiet,empty and had your favourite things…

Flowers.

You sat in the corner of the room, holding your legs up to your chest, resting your chin in your knees as you tried to stop your tears.

Your thoughts were racing so quickly you didn’t even hear Thor walk into the room.

“Little one?” He said softly but it still made you flinch.

“Buttercup? Why are the tears?” He asked you worriedly as he knelt down in front of you and you sobbed harder.

“Buttercup?” Thor repeated giving you a soft kiss on the temple. Hoping your favourite nickname would calm you.

Your favourite flower.

“W-why are you with me?” You asked wiping your tears and he physically jumped a little.

“Why are you asking me this?” He asked you confused and you pouted.

“S-she was sayin- we was too different t-to like eachother- and she’d be a better girlfriend for you-“ you stuttered out through cries and he pulled you into a tight hug, embracing you in his warmth, all you could smell and feel was him.

“That is entirely and completely untrue! We are so alike, we both like popcorn and the rain! And..Miss bunny!” Thor said making you smile at the mention of your stuffie,

“And we like colouring! And ice cream!” You beamed making him nod with a chuckle.

“Who is this woman anyway?” He asked you and you huffed.

“Buttercup?” He asked again and you nuzzled your face into his neck.

“M’ not sure she’s new…” you said and he nodded as he rubbed your back up and down softly.

“Did she do anything else?” Thor asked as he tried to hide his anger.

“She stepped on my flowers…” you said sadly when you remembered.

“What?” He said through gritted teeth and he was even more mad as he looked at your puffy face and wet eyelashes, he stood up with you in his arms.

“Daddy-“

“Shh..it’s okay just rest” he said stroking your hair as you rested your head back down in the crack of his neck.

“I want all servants lined up here now!” Thor shouted covering your ears but you still jumped a little.

Everyone flinched and lined up panicked

“Buttercup? Tell me if you see her?” Thor whispered to you and you nodded, hesitantly removing your face from thors neck as he walked down the line of terrified servants.

And you looked down when you saw her, catching thors attention.

“Is this her?” He asked you and you nodded.

“Is it true you said that were to different? To be together?” He asked and she looked down nodding her head reluctantly.

“Is it true you said you’d be a better girlfriend for me than Her?” He asked and she nodded her head as she sniffled.

“Y-yes s-sir”

“Well you are wrong, you could never be a better girlfriend than her, she’s the best anyone could ever have” he said giving you a kiss on the hand.

“And is it true…you stepped on her flowers?” He asked and she nodded sobbing.

“Y-yes..”

“Guards take her away!” Thor shouted and she sobbed as they dragged her away.

Thor put you back on the floor and held your hand, bending down a bit from the height difference.

“C’mon buttercup, let’s make another flower bouquet” he said making you squeal, and he couldn’t hold back a smile.

You went back to the flower garden and made a beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers.

“Look! A buttercup!” You beamed catching thors attention.

He picked it and held it under your chin, the yellow tint glowing under your chin “you like butter” he said you gasped “I do!” You agreed making him laugh.

“Your so cute little one” he smiled as he pulled you on top of him, laying on the grass together.

You forgot all about what she said, because you both were indeed made for each other.

[slipperzipper]

Heimdall x f!Reader (Smut!)

| Pairing: Heimdall x Reader

| Contents: Massive warning for those who do not like sexual content because this oneshot contains smut smut smut! Sex pollen, Masturbation, Grinding, afab reader, p in v, creampie, rough sex, and orgasms, let me know if I need to add other things to this as well!

| wrds: 3.2k

| Disclaimer!: Massive warning for those who do not like sexual content because this oneshot contains smut smut smut! minor Grammar and Spelling mistakes so apologies, Kind of weird start. also does anyone else still like heimdall? I know its been a year since I initially posted my first oneshot of this asshole. I'm deciding to repost this on tumblr since I know some people still like this man lol

“I’m pretty sure a legless donkey could move faster than you.” 

Heimdall’s voice called out, the two of you had been walking through the wild jungles of Vanaheim. So far, if it had not been for Heimdall’s insults and petty comments, it was going well. The flora constantly grabbing at your ankles and causing you to stumble slightly each time you continued or turned into a new direction, but that was the least of your worries. 

The reason why you were in Vanaheim in the first place was for the All-father, or Odin for short. 

According to Odin, there was a lost relic in Vanaheim that he desired desperately. Apparently so desperately that he forced Heimdall to bring you with him for extra help. Unfortunately you couldn’t exactly say no since you wanted to look good in front of the All-father, accepting the offer with a feigned smile. You were his guest afterall.

“I’d move faster if it wasn’t for your constant insults!” You laughed, you were a couple dozen feet behind him, he just had to lead the way since you were ‘too incompetent’ to do so. Your eyes seemed to be lost in the environment, its natural beauty and color was just a sight to behold.

You were almost jealous of the Vanir that they get to live in such a beautiful realm, but you were soon kicked out of your thoughts as the sound of the golden god yelping hit your ears. That caused you to walk a bit faster, before turning into a jog, then into a sprint in order to find him. You knew he couldn’t be hurt by a person or animal, but plant life? Can’t exactly read a plant’s mind if there’s no mind to read. Even when Heimdall was a dick, you knew Odin wouldn’t exactly be happy if his most loyal son died to some miniscule threat.

But that isn’t what you saw when you found him. There was a small red-pink plant next to him releasing a dusty spore, his arm covering his eyes before backing up and falling on his backside. You grabbed him from under his shoulders and dragged him out, his grumbles consisted of the plant and how he hadn’t needed the help.

“Heimdall! Are you okay?” You asked, your hands propping on your knees as you looked down on him. He groaned at this strange feeling bubbling in his chest. “Yes- yes I am fine.” Heimdall reassured before pushing himself up to stand, trembling slightly but ultimately walking it off.

Why was he acting like this? He was being complacent and hadn’t insulted you yet for asking if he was okay. This was out of character for him, even his tone was out of character, and you hadn’t failed to notice. “Heimdall, are you actually okay?” Your voice asked again right as you walked in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Yes, Of course I am fine.” Heimdall’s voice shook a little, catching you off guard since his dialect indicates that he’s the biggest and best bitch in the world. “Are you sure ?” You ask yet again, he brushed off the comment before continuing. 

“We must find Gulltoppr before we return to Asgard-” Heimdall’s voice trembled worse as he stumbled towards a tree. His hand gripped into the tree's vines as a way to capture himself from completely falling. A strangled grunt rippled through the air and made you stop in your steps towards the god. 

He sank to his knees while he had a full body reaction to the sensations around him. Heimdall was feeling all sorts of sensitive, even when he had moved his hands to catch himself, they were all tingly. 

When he heard your muddled voice call out to him for the umpteenth time, his heart skipped a beat when his brain processed your sweet words. Heimdall! What’s happening to you- Answer me! Your hands grabbed at his tunic and turned him around to see a sight to truly behold:

The Scion of the Aesir was sitting on his knees, in such a seductive and submissive pose that rattled your brain. His usual cockiness was wiped from his face and was instead replaced with bright red blush and with quite the pleading pout settling on his lip. His hands now finding purchase on gripping your clothes, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was grabbing. 

“H-Hey man, can you stand-” How he hated how your voice sounded. How it sounded like it was coated in the sweetest honey in of all the nine realms, he was easily entranced by it. From your point of view he looked hypnotized, absolutely lost in something.

He groaned when he felt the back of your hand touch his forehead, checking if he was possibly burning up from the plant’s spores. You weren’t technically wrong with that assumption because his entire body was emanating warmth, you could easily feel it when you planted your hands on his shoulders after he let out that little noise. 

“(Y/N).. please I-” He cut himself off with a pant and a down turned head tilt. “I need you.” 

He knew he would have some form of regret after this if he were rejected, whether that in your head that he was a little submissive slut or that he was so weak he got caught off guard by a plant of all things. He didn’t exactly appreciate the circumstances that led up to him on his knees. But he would soon know what you thought of this situation anyway. 

He brought his head back up to stare directly into your eyes, his bright purple ones held lust and need with parted lips. Speaking of his lips, they seemed a little bit more plump than what they normally were. You hated the fact that you knew exactly how his lips looked, from the quick snags you got when he wasn’t looking that you didn’t think much of until now. 

Shit! You just remembered he could probably read your thoughts right now. You got your answer when his lips tugged into a small crinkled-eyed smile before bringing you down by the grip he had on your clothes. His arms sliding around you to bring you into a tight hug when his mouth planted itself next to your ear.

“Please- Can I- Please may I have you?” His voice tickled your senses and caused shivers to go down your spine. It was just so desperate that you felt like you couldn’t say no. He moved himself from the side of your head only to look into your eyes again, just to read what little thoughts you had. Hues of colors were all he could see at the moment before the thought of him actually letting him have you in a jungle of all places, it was absolutely strange to you. But the look on your face told a different story. 

You would be a liar if you hadn’t at least one thought about what he looked like under all those layers, and that was all Heimdall needed to know before his hands found themselves hugging your hips instead. 

Forcing your body to grind down onto his newfound bulge. A moan erupted from his lips at the new found sensation adding onto his sensitivity. “Fu-Fuck..” Heimdall cursed while he continued to rub your clothed sex against him. The grip on your hips were harsh and it was like he was clinging for dear life, they were definitely going to bruise tomorrow.

“H-Heimdall!” You whimpered out when he grinded particularly too hard, the noise sounding like a siren calling sailors to shore. It was such a hypnotizing sound that he never wanted to stop hearing. The tingly sensation from the mutual rubbing was ever present in making his dick even harder.

“Heimdall!” You cried out his name once more. This time it actually captured his attention instead of adding to his sexual experience. He stilled his ministrations before retraining his eyes back onto yours, only to find them averted as he so desperately tried to read your thoughts.

“Are you sure of this? In the middle of a jungle..?” You barely whispered, but with his enhanced sense he could hear it as clear as day. He was reminded of his body’s blessing and curse that came from the plant’s spore when his body had moved against you by accident, a pathetic whimper erupted from the Herald of Ragnarok.

 

Your lips tugged into a small smile, you moved yourself against him just to tease him. Your shyness earlier muffled when Heimdall grinded against you once more, his lip quivering slightly as his gruff hands desperately grabbed and released your hips repeatedly. 

“Gah-! (Y/N)!” Heimdall cried out as his eyelids fluttered, his body jerking and his clothed pelvis flushing against yours. Forcing you to grind against him once more. He had panted heavily now, making you realize that he came in his pants. 

Your eyes widened when that piece of information dawned on you, you made the golden god himself come in his pants! You knew Heimdall wasn’t himself right now. He was high off his mind and you just made him come in his pants. Even when he technically consented, it still felt wrong. 

“Heimdall- I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-” You started to apologize before a weak hand planted itself on your mouth. “Just- Just stop talking.” The aforementioned god spoke with a harsh tone, you would lie to yourself if you said you didn’t feel a little hurt at his words. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you actually did quite the opposite.” His voice hinted. He brought his pelvis back to flush against your sex, you could feel your own wetness against him. You could feel him and how hard he was once more. He was hard again already?! 

“Yes. Yes I am.” Heimdall scoffed when he read your mind before a groan had caught him to keep him in check, how he was the one who was affected rather than you who was just as ruined as him but from natural causes. “You don’t mind helping me out, do you ?” He coyly asked with a head tilt just to further tease you. 

Heimdall had scooted you off of his lap so that he could stand and release the ache in his pants. Unfastening his belt and letting both his kilt and his pants hit the ground.You could only watch with a glimmer of shock, awe, and lust as his belt piles with the other clothes.  His cock was dripped in his own come, standing at attention with an angry red tip. He was also nicely trimmed and looked groomed, showing how well-kept he was. “After all, you did cause this.” Heimdall putting the blame on you was such an absurd claim, yet you couldn’t help but agree.

Heimdall couldn’t help but sigh when he did show himself, he felt so much better after letting his pants drop. But he also wouldn’t lie to himself when he thought about what you looked like underneath all those layers you wear. Coming back to you (who was still on the ground), he had grabbed the waistband of your pants, along with your undergarments, before pushing them to your ankles. Your lower half is on full display without any distractions.

It left him breathless, to actually see you. He soon shoved your upper half joined your legs on the ground, the harsh ground being familiar to you from the times when you sparred with the man. 

His fingers ran themselves through your folds, catching you off guard, causing you to squeak in surprise. You were wet, undeniably so, and Heimdall liked that. Your legs tried to crumple together but Heimdall prevented that with his polished hands 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, You really thought?” He panted out while he scooted close to you, basically hovering over you. You hadn’t really noticed until now but the atmosphere of Vanaheim really made Heimdall’s appearance glow, he was truly handsome. 

He felt particularly nice in his sexual suffering for some odd reason, his fingers feeling your pussy up in ways that you liked. You cried out when he swiped small circles on your clit, holy Hel, the touches were electrifying. It wasn’t long before Heimdall lined himself up with your hole. Giving you one last look, one of pent up lust and desire and need. His cheeks are a bright red color that paired so well with his fuschia eyes. He slipped himself in.

The warm feeling of your cunt caused him to loudly whine. Even when it was just the tip, it was just the most perfect sensation. It was like a drug implemented in his veins and he couldn’t get enough of it. Lifting your legs so that they would be planted on his shoulders as he drew himself closer, helplessly hung there while he drove his cock into you slowly.

You couldn’t help but whimper and grip the ground, the dirt digging into your nails, below as he inched himself in further and further. He eventually bottomed out, his pelvis meeting yours in a lustful stance. He had just sat there, letting you feel used to his size, it was nice of him to do so in this state when you originally thought he would just fuck into your un-prepared cunt.

But that was soon the reality when he brought his hips back and then slammed into your walls again. A howl crawled out of you when Heimdall repeated his action. Then the harsh repetition began. The pain soon washed away as your body started to get used to it. Your velvety colored walls were gripping him like a vice, and he couldn’t be any more happier. His cock fitting into your body like the perfect puzzle piece, as if you were made to be fucked by him.

Heimdall was thankful for that plant now, rather than being annoyed like he was previously, he was now glad that he could fuck your pussy into oblivion.

You couldn’t help the babbling noises of pleasure that escaped and obscured the natural sounds of Vanaheim’s jungles and you absolutely hoped that no one else was strolling nearby. You’d probably die from embarrassment if someone did, but that didn’t seem to matter at all as Heimdall slammed into you. 

He knew he was going to come. He knew you were too based on your thoughts on how you could barely hang on when he kept hitting that part inside you that made you see stars. His nails digging into your skin in small crescents, if he had dug any further he would have definitely drawn blood.

A few more harsh thrusts and you were done, your pussy contracting around his cock as you came. A loud mewl echoed through Vanaheim. Shortly after, you felt his hot load stain your body, a warm feeling spreading from inside.  

Heimdall’s hips jerked while he trudged through, trying to get the most out of his intense orgasm. Pressing himself as deep as he could from this angle, spilling his cum into you. The god was staring into your eyes the whole time, it was like an explosion that entered your mind. It was an array of bright colors that he had the fortune to see. His thighs trembled dangerously as he caressed yours. 

You couldn’t help but be breathless. You haven’t had an orgasm like that since.. You couldn’t even remember. Your thighs shook with intensity even after he fucked you through your orgasm. Heimdall withdrew from your pussy with a disgusting squelching sound and sighed heavenly.   

But that wasn’t it. He wasn’t done and he quickly recovered and developed a boner in the matter of moments even after the previous two, how the Hel was the plant’s spore still taking effect?! 

“One more, please , just one more.”

Heimdall spoke while a hand reached your face, grasping it uncharacteristically gently, and had your cunt gripping at nothing. You nodded wordlessly before being caught off guard by being flipped to your hands and knees, your ass presenting just for the God of Foresight to behold. 

Behold he did, his hands now moving your pussy to see the absolute mess he had made. He could feel his balls aching in preparation of stuffing your slit once more. Your head tilted at its side, somewhat being able to see what was behind you, only to be pushed down with a harsh shove and his dick slamming into your hole. 

A whorish mewl was drawn out. Loving how full you felt, you pressed your ass against his hips. Bottoming out once more before slamming his dick back in. The wet sounds of sex rung through your fucked mind. Your thighs slapped against Heimdall’s, he couldn’t help but enjoy it even more while your plush thighs rippled with each clap. You could barely think now, only processing the big cock inside your now abused cunt sliding back and forth at a pace you couldn’t fathom. You could only drool, rest your head on your hands, and wait to come for the second time. You did, you shook as it took place.

As your orgasm continued, you realized Heimdall was still going. 

You felt your clit get touched and you instinctively hissed, you were feeling just as oversensitive as Heimdall. The only difference being that he was powering through it, you felt like you were about to scream. 

"Just endure. You can give me one more just like you’re giving me mine.” Heimdall reassured, swiping your clit in a softer, less lustrous and more kinder than before hand, and you couldn’t help but let out a choked whine. 

He knew you came again when you convulsed and sunk slowly again. He looked into your eyes again and saw the previous show from before but it was just a bit dimmer and blunt, and he couldn’t help but enjoy it even more.  Heimdall came once more inside, quickly placing you into a mating press, the ground below you dirtying your arms and knees. The hot feeling adding onto the sexual experience. He stilled while his come squirted for the third time this session and he wouldn’t lie if this wasn’t one of the greatest times he’s fucked before.

After waiting some time, He pulled out. Watching the slimy line of his own jizz disconnect from the tunnel of shared seed mixing together, but seeing some of it drip down onto the ground prompted him to slide his fingers inside, shoving it back in farther just for you to savor it. You gave a weak whine at the action, but it's not like you can do anything about it. 

“I’ll call for Gulltoppr, just- stay here.” Heimdall stated, just beforehand he had helped you back into your pants and sat you against the very tree he fell upon. Strands of your hair sprawled from your hairline, he brushed some of said strands past and back into your hair to make it look more presentable. He himself was in his own clothes as he stood

He soon took off to look for his beloved pet, you couldn’t help but notice the stumble he had every few steps.

[arpicityandneed]

Omg I need more Loki x Thor x sister reader

But maybe in this one reader finds out that Loki is adopted and refuses to believe it and had an entire meltdown about it screaming she crying because she’s so sad he’s not her biological brother

(After re-reading your other one 73846 times I have made a theory that reader is the goddess of peace snd calm)

You don’t gotta write this btw

a/n: I may or may not have gotten carried away. enjoy and thanks for this ask!!

18+ f!reader. Dark content. Incest. Stepcest? Hurt/comfort. Implied Loki x Thor. Reader has a fit and hits Loki.

It was rare to be summoned home, especially after you were married off. Despite your brother's visiting you in your new home, despite the potion Loki gave you to give your husband dreams of a pleasurable wedding night so he'd leave you alone, you were unhappy being away from Asgard.

You missed the gardens you used to read in, you missed the glint of the sun on gold, and you missed being pampered by your brothers without having to hide.

So when you were summoned by your mother you wore your finest dress and practically ran up the castle steps, bursting into the great hall expecting to see Odin on the throne as usual.

Your smile faltered as you saw your mother standing beside the empty throne instead.

"Mother?" Your voice was small, noting the dark circles under your mothers eyes and the way her mouth was pinched with worry.

"The AllFather has fallen into the Odin Sleep. We need our family close at this time of strife, so you will be staying with us until the issue is... resolved."

You were going to respond when you heard raised voices coming closer. You frowned, Thor and Loki fought often but never with such coldness in their voices. They came through the doors without even noticing you at first.

"She has a right to know her brother-" Thor's booming voice was bordering on a growl, but Loki surprised you more.

"I'm not her brother!" He roared, and for once Thor fell silent.

"What?" The word was barely a whisper as it left your lips, looking between Thor and Loki's faces. Desperately searching for some sign that this was a sick joke.

"Oh mother didn't tell you?" Loki's bad habit was on full display, pushing people away the moment he needed them most. He smirked at you even as you saw the pain in his eyes. "I'm not your brother. I'm just another relic in Odin's collection. A frost giant's child he wanted to use as a pawn for his own gains." Loki spat, an ugly sneer on his handsome face.

"Mother, say it isn't true." You whirled around, your gaze growing blurry with tears as you begged your mother to right this horrible wrong.

"Your father loves you Loki, no matter who sired you. You are my son." Frigga spoke calmly, but her voice was full of pain. "Now, look after your sister. I must attend to the AllFather." Frigga left without looking back, her pain and worry evident in every line of her body.

"No." Your voice shook, and you swore you could hear the sound of your heart shattering into a million pieces.

"Sister," Thor started to reach for you but you pulled back.

"No. It can't be true!" Tears streamed down your cheeks as you looked to Loki accusingly. "You're lying."

Loki merely bowed mockingly before he started to shift before your eyes. His eyes became blood red and his skin was an icy blue, and you saw his true form for the first time. You knew if you touched him you'd be burned by the frigid cold emanating from his skin.

"Frost. Giant." Loki purred, and you lost it.

You flew at him in a rage, kicking and screaming and biting and scratching. "You're mine, take it back! You're mine!" Distantly you felt Thor trying to pull you off, and the cold of Loki's blue skin beneath your hands. But you were lost in your despair and grief, great sobs wracking your body as your anger suddenly drained out of you.

Thor held you as you fell to the floor, exhausted and hollow as you faced the reality of it.

Loki wasn't yours.

~

You locked yourself in your room for days. Thor would bring you food and try to cajole you to come see the gardens, have some tea, visit mother. But nothing appealed to you.

The world wasn't right, and it would never be right again. Food tasted like nothing, you couldn't sleep without nightmares of being abandoned and left out in the cold.

Loki hadn't come to see you once.

Looking back he hadn't even fought back, he'd merely stood there while you slapped him and clawed at him, hands behind his back and his eyes full of heartbreak.

Sometimes you'd hear yelling outside your door, and sometimes you even thought you'd heard Loki's voice. But every time you went to the door the hallway would be empty.

Until one night you woke with a scream of Loki's name on your lips. Another nightmare, faceless figures taking him away with nothing for you to do.

"I'm here." Loki murmured quietly. He was sitting on the edge of your bed like he'd always been there. You had no idea how long he'd watched you sleep.

"Are you?" You asked bitterly, hugging your knees to your chest.

"Y/n..."

"You won't even call me sister now, and you expect me to answer?" You glared at him. "You should leave, I'm not allowed to have strange men in my room." You knew you were being petty, but every bit of distance he put between you hurt more than you could bear.

"Look. I can't go back and change things, alright?" Loki sighed, running a hand through his raven hair. His voice dropped and you could hear his sincerity. "But if I could I'd be your brother in every other lifetime."

"And this lifetime? What about us now?" You asked quietly, painfully aware that you were only dressed in a sheet and the object of your obsession was only an arms reach away.

"You'd truly still want me, even knowing I'm a monster?" His voice broke on the last word and he turned away from you. Understanding dawned and you crawled over to him, settling your naked form in his lap and cupping his cheeks in your small hands.

"You're my brother in every way that counts. And you are not a monster. You have protected me, taught me everything I know about magic, and loved me better than any husband ever could. You and Thor are the only ones who have my heart. My body. My soul. I'm yours. Your sister." You were quiet but firm as you spoke, and eventually you felt him put his arms around you.

"If we have a child, you won't be able to pass it off as a full blooded Asgardian. Your husband will know." Loki reasoned, and you opened your mouth to answer before Thor spoke. You and Loki had been to caught up in each other to notice as he came to check on you after hearing you cry out.

"Then we get rid of her husband." Thor said as if it were the obvious solution, coming to sit on the bed beside Loki. He punched his brother's arm firmly before muttering. "I told you she'd forgive you if you just talked to her."

You cuddled into Loki's chest as he held you, reaching out to take Thor's hand and shrugging casually even as you plotted your husbands assassination.

"My husband is starting to develop feelings for me, I'm sure he'll try to touch me soon anyway." You mumbled and Thor growled.

"Maybe my potions are a bit too well made." Loki chuckled before he groaned, your mouth latching onto his neck as your desire to be closer to him took over.

"You still have to atone, brother." You murmured against his ear just to feel him shiver, grinding your cunt down onto his lap as you nipped at his earlobe. "You were mean to me. Made me cry."

"She's right Loki, you know better than to be mean to our baby." Thor was angry, possessive, and more than a little desperate to make sure Loki knew who he belonged to. "And as the oldest, I think it's only fair that I decide what your punishment is."

Loki looked between the two of you with a faint smirk on his lips.

"I submit to my punishment then."

~

A few months after the announcement of your pregnancy, your husband had a hunting accident. The AllFather awoke from his deep slumber to find his daughter queen of a foreign land just as he intended. He allowed you to come home as soon as you decreed to your subjects that you would be joining with Asgard as one nation, his desire for power and more land fully satisfied.

You spent the remainder of your pregnancy under your brother's careful watch. You never lifted anything heavier than your silverware when you ate, and even then it was a rarity. No, you were more often found in one of their laps as they hand fed you.

And when the time finally came, your son was born with night black hair and eyes that switched between deep blue and bright red depending on his mood.

[diejager]

Bittersweet Devotion pt.2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Cw: angst, heartbreak, mention of cheating, mention of death, no happy ending, apology, tell me if I missed any. wc: 9.3k

Previous

Your universe, Earth-XXX, was a parallel one to Earth-616 in some sense. You had a Peter Parker, a Gwen Stacy and a Mary Jane Watson, it had everything down to the death of Ben Parker and the devastation it brought to your friend. It was the same year as Spider-Man 616’s world, it had the same political standing and same history. Your world, like many others, was a near carbon copy of 616, down to the smallest things; but like others in the spiderverse, you had differences. Some were minor changes in the course of its canon story, others were major changes in the characters and the era.

You - like Miguel, Miles, Jess, Hobart (he liked going by Hobie), Patrick and Patriv - were one of those major deviations in the original canon. You didn’t exist - or so you thought - in Peter B. or Peter’s universe even though you lived in the same year. The reason might be that in the reality, the sum of all potential universes that paralleled each other, created the multiverse - the Spiderverse. 

The concept of it seemed strangely unlimited, the infinite possibilities to a different ending or a different start for its world. The multiverse was, in some sense, as old as time, a culmination of everything made imaginable by man. Found in ancient texts - the Puranas, ancient Hindu mythology - that expressed the infinite number of universes with their gods and principles. Whereas Persian literature - tales - touched the idea of learning about alternate universes that were similar, yet distinctly different from theirs. 

Misconstrued by many, the strangeness of it was deemed a danger, the unknown possibilities were feared by people of older age, but venerated in the past as it was in the present for the unfathomable possibilities. It exists in fiction, where they borrowed the idea of many worlds within a reality from myths, legends and religion. Heaven, Hell, Olympus and Valhalla were all reflections of a familiar world, a material realm for the blessed, the sinful, the gods, and the worthy. The similarities sometimes frightened you, how close the people were to knowing of the reality you all lived in. The tangibility of crossing worlds and bringing about chaos to every string, every realm, every material form of the multiverse. 

They, after all, were real, Hell as much as Heaven in your universe. Gods from every religion, either monotheistic or polytheistic, some you’d personally seen are Thor and Loki, brother and sons of Odin the Allfather, and the God of Thunder and Mischief respectively. Another was a big crocodile lady, Ammit, from what you’d heard from the all-knowing Dr. Strange. From God to Norse and Egyptian gods, from angels and demons, and from humans to mutants, your plane of existence was as wide as it could go without drifting off the edge and causing a mass domino effect within the multiverse.

You were curious, naturally so for a scientist, exploring the worlds that felt familiar to you but you hadn’t truly grasped -  different, yet similar. You hadn’t given a second thought to exploring yours. After all, why explore yours when your horizon was as broad as you imagined it, unperturbed by any limits when it came to the multiverse? The eternal and unlimited growing number of realms in your expanding reality.

Perhaps that was the reason why you hadn’t known your universe had its own Miguel O’Hara. You rarely came back for anything, you had everything you’ve ever wanted in Nueva York, Earth-928. You have friends who could truly understand you, people who stood beside you when you fought, youngsters who looked up to you for mentoring and a dream- or it was a dream. Dreams, not dissimilar to wishes, were hopeful, naive in a way, they came and went. Some dreams would come true, while others fell, like the fallen stars that crossed the night sky.

Yours simply happened to be a fallen one, one not meant to happen and become greater. You let it go after he dropped you, after he turned his back and let his mouth run unperturbed. He brought her up, someone he swore he would remember but left in the past. A new chance to become something, to become whole again, and Miguel took it. He wanted to start anew, fresh with someone he never met, you wanted the same; you both had what you wished for, until he put his foot down, cutting the thin web that connected both your lives.

It broke your heart. Months of patience and anxiously stepping around each other, nervous about breaking the trust freshly built between you both, lost in a few weeks. You were brittle, heart fractured and threatening to fall further apart if someone was any crueller to you. The smallest glare, the tiniest scoff or the weakest remark would send you reeling into the abyss of heartbreak and the throes of anguish. Yet somehow, you found yourself being led away by a copy of the Miguel you loved. 

He mumbled apologies as he held you tightly, his arm over your shoulder as he cradled you under his umbrella, hastily urging you to follow his guidance. If it were any other person, you would’ve been wary, cautious of any strangers that touched you so closely and chaperoned you so quickly; but this was Miguel, a man you trusted and that you still trusted wherever he came from. Earth-XXX’s Miguel O’Hara was still similar to the one you knew, someone you could trust. You did.

He led you to his flat, someplace near Alchemax’s building in Manhattan, a safe neighbourhood for the richer citizens of Manhattan. A cozy place of neutral tones and muted colours, yet warm as he welcomed you - a stranger as of yet - into his home. He had machinery strewn around, reports stacked on his coffee table and smaller things he had been tinkering about decorating his home. As a geneticist, he liked to play with machinery, having drawn his designs and models, built his creations from scratch and worked from the base programming to make something better. At least Miguel from Earth-928 did, and it seemed this one did as well. 

You stood in his shower, where he left you in a frenzy to bring you dry clothes, drying out your hair with the towel he motioned you to use. You doubted that he had anything your size, his broad shoulders and his towering height, nothing he had in his draws - and the boxes he stowed away in his closet - would fit you. They would drag down your ankle and sit low on your collar. Granted, you were soaked down to your socks and had no temporary clothes to cover yourself with during your stay. 

You had stripped from your soaked clothes and patted down your wet skin, shivering from the cold that clung to your bones even after Miguel had increased the heater in the small confines of the bathroom. It was small but big enough to move around and stretch your arms comfortably. You hadn’t felt the cold until he brought you to his bathroom, the numbness of the past months weighing heavily on your shoulders and the bleeding of your heart made everything seem so meaningless. The colours draining from the world around you, a once bright New York turned grey, the monochrome tones of black and white mixing and interlacing to form even more boring shades. 

The vibrancy and life you once saw around you dulled and died suddenly, like the winters brought by Demeter’s devastation and sadness when her daughter was taken from her, stolen from the berth of flowers she liked frolicking about. How Demeter doomed the world to see her pain, to feel how she felt in the moments her daughter had to return to her husband than stay with Demeter. You felt laden by your faults and his actions. Doubtful of your relationship, of what led you both to such an ending. Had you been clearer or more forthcoming about your emotions, or had you confronted him for his behaviour, would you still be in his arms? 

Were you at fault for missing something you had relied on as comfort and safety? Could you be blamed for his reaction to your meddling in his affairs in the Society? Could you blame him for dropping those words on you? After all, being reminded or compared to a past lover was anything but gentle, the gut-wrenching envy and betrayal you felt flash through you was nearly drowning. It made you feel lacking, to be reminded of his old flame, the one he was about to marry and the person he seemed to love before all. Could you even compare to what she was; what she did? (Dina had cheated on him, you knew that, but he was truly happy in their moments of pleasure and domesticity. They were a family until she died.)

You were drowning in your self-made sorrow when his voice called you, grounding you to the room. Standing before a door, naked and shivering, arms wrapping the damp towel around your shoulders. He called again, cracking the door open to pass you the - his - clothes he thought would fit you. He coughed as you took your temporary wear, your cool fingers brushing his warm ones. It was a sudden and jerking contact, you pulled back jerkingly, a shamble of an apology and a thank you flew from your tongue. His chuckle was a reassurance in the complete quietness of the flat, his low voice reminding you of better times. 

The sweater hung loosely around you, dipping down your collar to expose your shoulder. It was warm, the cotton used to make it still soft after being stored away and the soothing scent of spice and pine deeply integrated into the fibres. The pants were stretched around your hips, the tight fabric thin and flexible under stress, hidden under the long shirt. The legs, however, swayed loosely around your limbs, too big for your calves, but tight enough to hug your thighs. He had certainly made sure to bring you clothes that would fit your frame. You hadn’t attempted to smell his pants, you thought it would’ve been too intrusive and disgusting to do so if only to smell a remnant of Miguel on his as you did on the sweater. 

Miguel was waiting for you in the kitchen, his back turned to you as you ambled towards him. His shoulders loose and back relaxed in the presence of a stranger made you appreciate how good-natured he was in most universes you’d been to. He turned his head, gesturing you to sit on the chair facing him on the island as he returned to something he was making while you changed. 

“I hope you don’t mind hot chocolate,” he started, voice light and hopeful as he turned to you, cup in each hand as he moved to stare at you. “I’m not one for tea.” He slid the warm mug into your hand, eyes watching your expression as he slowly sipped on the hot beverage. 

His eyes squinted slightly when your lips curled upwards, a smile hidden by the steaming mug. You cupped the mug, feeling the warmth of the freshly brewed drink, the steam rising in soft curls and melting in the cooler atmosphere. Tentatively, you brought the rim to your lips, slowly tilting the cup. The powerful taste of chocolate hit you strongly, the sweet and dark liquid melting the tension in your muscles until you could curl over the table with an appreciative sigh. 

“Thank you…” you knew his name, wanting to call him, but his reaction would be unwanted, the shock, fear and suspicion that would fill his beautiful, brown eyes. So you slurred your words, dragging out your voice until he could tell you his name himself.

“Miguel. Miguel O’Hara, ” he nodded, cocking his head upwards, pointing at you with his chin. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Hey every time I want to call you.” His lips broke into a cheeky smile, teasing you when he saw that you’d comfortably melted into the drink and his island chair. He wanted to ease the tense atmosphere from before into something much calmer, to help the accumulated tension in your shoulders to fall like the rain that clouded the streets of New York.

You let out a hoarse chuckle, your throat still fresh from crying, and told him your name, trying to stabilise your shaking tone. His cheeky smirk tugged at your heartstrings, you hadn’t seen Miguel laugh or smile this freely in months. You missed it. The casual banter you shared and the on-and-off insults you’d hurl at one another, all good-natured insults meant to rile him. 

“Thank you, Miguel,” you nearly choked when you uttered his name, the wound still so fresh and bleeding it slip from your tongue easily. It brought up so many memories, both painful and joyful. Your eyes glazed over, tears threatening to fall once again, to paint your cheeks with agony that you - him, or perhaps both of you - had brought on yourself. “Thank you…”

Miguel hummed sympathetically, eyes staring down at his drink, deep in thought. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to invite you to share your problems, to tell him why you broke down on the street in stormy weather. Or maybe he was thinking of the fastest way to kick you out, to get rid of the mess you became. The silence, however, was reassuring, calming the nerves that followed the eerie calmness of Miguel’s den or the loud, hectic atmosphere of the Society. His warm, worrying gaze grounded you, the softness behind his concerned stare was heartwarmingly nostalgic.

“Difficult breakup?” His words seemed hesitant, unsure of his conclusion to the cause of your appearance. Unknowingly, he had struck gold, pinning down the right problem in your life with a few observations. Of course, he was observant and aware of his surroundings, why else was he so willing to bring you into his home? 

“How’d ya know?”

His sigh was telling, the deep, concerned and tired breath was only used when he knew that you wouldn’t tell him what ailed you, like the groan of a disappointed, yet worried father. 

“Because I know how it feels,” he says slowly, pensive over his words, picking them carefully to not damage you further than your ex had. He knew the pain of a harsh breakup, the pain and sorrow that followed, like a dark cloud that hovered over you whenever you were awake. 

“Why?” You croaked.

“Why?” he parroted, frowning at your question.

“Why did you invite me in? I’m a- a stranger to you, you don’t even know me. What if I’d been acting to mug you or potentially kill and steal from you? What’d you do then, Miguel?”

“I know the risks, but you didn’t, didn’t you? And wouldn’t, you don’t look like the person to harm another.”

You scoffed at his words. Didn’t and wouldn’t didn’t mean you would not do it later after gaining his trust, to stab him in the back after he helped you and nursed you. The simple, naïve idea that you didn’t look like a violent person was mind-blowing, it was stupid. How could he know if you didn’t mean harm later on? Like how Miguel never meant to harm you - he loved you - and yet in the end, he had. 

“That’s naïve,” you muttered, eyes closed as you drank the cooling beverage, the sugary drink trickling down your throat. 

“I’m confident in my ability to read people.”

He did seem confident in his ability, the straight back and the strong gaze in his eyes showed; and, maybe because you knew from experience that Miguel was observant and careful, he hadn’t gotten where he was by simply trusting people and following the herd. He tested and made mistakes, he learned from them each time and found a way to use it to his advantage. The Miguel you saw in every universe was similar in some ways, their good nature, their cunningness, their bravery and their intelligence. All aspects known to characterize Miguel O’Hara in all universes he existed in. 

You conceded to his will, head bowed and shoulders slack. You breathed shallowly, swallowing the lump in your throat:

“Yeah, what gave it away?”

You thought it would be the last of him you’d see in your life, you wished it wouldn’t, that you’d see him over and over, to feel what the Miguel from your universe had to give, but you knew it was wishful thinking, a wish thrown to the stars. Logically, he had no reason to call or text you after exchanging numbers days prior. He promised to call you, and he made you promise to call him if anything ever resurfaced, be it pain, anger, heartbreak or hate. You, instinctively, believed his word. 

You hated yourself for falling so easily to another Miguel, how you bent to his words and the sweet promises he uttered that night. There was no sign that he would keep his word, that he would see you again after your breakdown, except for his words and your belief in him. Then it wasn’t misplaced, all the trust and belief you had, since he called you, asking to meet up at a cafe. Miguel had set up a place and time for you when you replied with a croak, still feeling down. He had whispered reassuring words to you, urging you to meet him - he explicitly told you he’d feel offended to be stood up - and spend some time outside. The air was fresh and cool for an autumnal month, it wasn’t too cold that you were forced to wear a thick jacket, but it wasn’t warm enough for you to go out in a simple shirt. 

You were hesitant to take him up on his offer, knowing how easily you could rebound. You’d crash into Miguel’s open arms, searching for the love and affection he fed you like a lovesick puppy, but, then again, Earth-XXX’s Miguel was similar, yet different from his variant. It would be a lie if you told yourself you didn’t miss him, the soft smiles, the gentle touches and the affectionate words. You had spent so much time as his right-hand Spider that it felt odd not seeing him the following morning. It was a routine you’d formed: waking up in his bed, kissing him good morning, getting to work together and eating together. Everything you’d done in the past years was with Miguel from Earth-928 the routine, the rigidity, it was grounding, it was the only semblance of normalcy in the world you lived in.

Now, you had to face the possibility that you were too broken to see another Miguel, to hold a casual conversation and form coherent and normal sentences. The purposefully slow steps you took to the cafe picked after having a moment outside the glass front were telling in itself. You swallowed the little amount of saliva in your throat to soothe its dryness and walked through the doors of the quaint establishment. It was painted in calm, brown tones, rustic in design with a warmth that rivalled the comfort of your bed. It lifted a bit of the tension you had, shoulders slumping slightly as your eyes searched for a familiar mop of brown hair.

Laying against the brown sofa, he stared out of the wide window from his booth. The warm, morning lights caressed his cheeks, lighting up the sharp edges of his jaw and nose. He was sculpted in perfection, like the youthful beauty of Adonis, crafted with the meticulous and attention-catching hands of an artist that created what was thought to be a god’s beauty. You could spend your days watching him, catching every little detail of Miguel’s face under the changing lighting, but you were standing near the entrance and he was waiting for you. His words echoed in your mind: “Don’t forget about next week, I miss seeing you.”

His eyes flickered to you, blinking as he turned to you, flashing a smile. You returned the sentiment, a shaky smile lifting the corners of your lips. You sat across from him, eyes wandering the cafe to stare at anything but him, lest you wouldn’t be able to stop the rush of emotions that would light your face in a flush. He uttered your name, greeting you in a friendly manner. You nodded back, muttering his name, pushing down the wince whenever you said it. 

“Chocolate.”

The still-warm cup stared at you, light steam wafting over the reflective liquid. It was full, unlike Miguel’s cup, and drank down to the middle of the container. 

“Thank you.”

He probably wouldn’t let you repay him for the hot chocolate he bought you, the smile he gave you told you as much when your eyes flickered between his and your cup. The hot chocolate was a reminder of your night in his flat, where he lent you his shoulder to cry and his ears to listen. Embarrassment seemed to flash whenever you recalled the memory, how vulnerable you were to him, your walls broken down and your heart open. Though, Miguel didn’t seem to mind your fragility, giving you as much time as you needed. 

“How are you? I wanted to give you a few days to think before meeting again, I thought you might’ve needed the time alone.”

You nodded lamely, fingers curling around the warm porcelain, back slumped into the booth to hide from his knowing eyes. He was right, you had needed the time alone to clean yourself up, scour through your memories and tend to whatever mess you made of yourself. You were thankful. The last few days had brought revelations, how - both of - you had ignored the signs of a rupture in the relationship and continued to push on, like crossing a crumbling bridge. 

“‘M doing better. How- and how are you?”

He smiled at your attempt, you were trying on your own after a few - forced - encouraging words from Miguel. Maybe you’d learn to live with the pain, coexisting with the numbness that filled you until it dulled to a point where it would be barely acknowledged by you or anyone in your vicinity - where it wasn’t painted on your face with bright colours. Or the pursuit to forget it, pushing it into the farthest corner of your mind and heart, painting over the crack with glue. As long as you wouldn’t drown in your sorrows, ending up playing with dangerous substances to stay afloat while your mind sunk deeper into addiction and denial. 

He wouldn’t let you get that far, Miguel understood you and he lived through it as you did. Although his was a more violent breakup - she had cheated on him, his explosive reaction was natural - than yours, he hadn’t relied on anything but self-meditation and a lot of thinking. Like a friend - you were one by his standards, he’d invited you to his flat, you’d seen his organized chaos and ranted about your life while he comforted you with his shoulder and a cup of hot chocolate - he would stay by your side, hoping his support would be enough to help you.

“Great so far.”

His grin - somehow - grew even larger, enthusiasm gleaming in his eyes. 

Oftentimes, Miguel would be the one to call you, your phone ringing in the afternoon of the day prior with his soothing voice on the other end of the line. He spoke easily, finding the time to invite you out for the simplest reason, to talk, to make a drink, to have fun, and - your favourite by far - to see you. His initiative had you trying to double your efforts to heal, reaching outside of your boundaries and texting Miguel whenever you had a moment to yourself. You felt guilty that he was always the one to plan these outings, so you promised yourself that you’d become a better friend than you currently were. You even remembered his teasing tone when you called him for the first time:

”Aye, finally. I thought you’d never call me, chica. I felt neglected, thought you had forgotten about me for a second there.”

It started with the first coffee date, bickering about who would pay, pushing your card before the other while still seated at your table, frowning stubbornly and throwing promises about letting the other pay next time. Either way, Miguel rarely let you pay, coming atop as the winner of your little fight with his strength and height (you couldn’t exactly put all your force into your push, it could break bone and bruise the skin.).

Then it would be random meetings on the streets that would lead you to a random bench at the park, basking in the other’s presence, retelling your day and him nitpicking anything he could with a ridiculously criticising frown. He was playing, you knew he was. You did the same after you’d gotten more comfortable talking to him, it became easier to see him as a different - as his own - person. A few hits on the shoulder left and right, but it was mostly laughter at ridiculous expressions made to emphasize your disdain for a certain event.

The months that followed were a blur to you. Rather than going to a cafe or the park, you went to restaurants and crashed at one of your flats, yours if he wanted to play games and lounge about with food and drinks, and his if you wanted to watch movies (he had the best television you’d ever seen, such high definition and speed.) and tinker away at his inventions and theories. He was certainly happy that his new friend was another scholar in the field of genes and engineering (you were mostly into engineering than genes, but you knew a few things that you’d found interesting.). You could both gush - scientifically - about the possibility of gene splicing and lab-generated mutations in humans, like the mutant superheroes. 

You’d taken some liberties and went drinking, meeting at the same bar biweekly to relax after a few hard days at work. It served to loosen your nerves until either of you felt comfortable to chat up a storm about the most random subject. It’d been about the odd dent on the rim of his glass; then it’d be about how the sky was grey this week, there weren’t any warm, yellow rays blaring down on you when you went out; or it’d be about the distasteful cut of a man’s moustache. Drinking loosened your tongues, some words were said and some sentiments were shared, but none were truly taken seriously knowing you were tipsy - nearing drunk - those nights.

Every time you saw Miguel, you felt like you were rediscovering a part of yourself as well as him, the thing that made him so distinct and loveable. Miguel was expressive and honest, he slowly and gently let you down from whatever high you were, the pillar you needed to stand again after falling. He was so much different. It used to pain you how much they looked alike, but character-wise, they were like the two sides of a coin. It made you appreciate the delicate intricacies that made the multiverse.

You won’t - can’t - deny that you’ve grown fond of this Miguel as you did with the other one, but you couldn’t let yourself love him. He didn’t deserve someone broken and hashed into many lives: the masks you wore, the things you did, the secrets you hid, and the things you could do. He didn’t deserve someone who could bring him to his death; dying simply because he was connected to Spider-Woman; beaten simply because he knew Spider-Woman; kidnapped simply because they deemed him useful as leverage. All things that could go wrong haunt you. Miguel was human, he wasn’t a Spider, he wasn’t a superhero, and he wasn’t a vigilante. He was Miguel O’Hara, the geneticist working at Alchemax, with a brilliant mind and a kind heart. 

You cherished every part of him. That’s why you can’t let your heart lead, dedicate how you’d react to Miguel after the months you spent together. He was so close, yet so far; he was touchable, you could hold him, kiss him and hug him, but he was unattainable, you couldn’t tell him how much you loved him. You watched him with hidden love, showing your affection as platonic, a friend watching another. You had hardened yourself to your heart’s cries, for loving Miguel was a dangerous game-

“I- what?” you gawked at Miguel, wide eyes and mouth agape. You were shocked at the words that left his mouth, his soft, wet lips moving as he repeated the words.

“I love you.”

His cheeks were flushed, burning a soft red, it trailed to his ears and nape. His open collar - his jacket hung on the back of his chair and his shirt clung below his collar, a skin-tight shirt that hugged his sculpted chest sinfully, it hid little to the seeing eyes of the crowd and your drunk self. His sudden words had all but sobered you, shaking you into clear lucidity of his confession.

“You… love me?”

He blinked dumbly at you for a second, as if taking the time to absorb what he told you and what you repeated. Miguel was tipsy, not drunk. He smiled and nodded, a bashfully affectionate grin on his beautiful lips.

“Yes, is it so hard to believe, chica?”

He often called you chica, you thought it was a friendly term of endearment between friends (truthfully and regretfully, you knew little of Spanish, even with being in a committed relationship with an Irish-Mexican.). You just realised it was his pet name for you. All this time, he had given you his heart, and yet, you had denied him of yours. He was more playful and less burdened by life, it made him more teasing and smiling. The term chica somewhat made sense, a cuter and more playful way of calling someone you loved than the deep-meaning ones like mi cielo and mi vida, a play of words like a small secret between you. This secret hid behind names given between friends, a well-kept one, close to his chest but gifted to you. 

It might’ve once been - started - as friends, but it grew and festered in his heart until he found the time to express himself, to tell you how he truly felt for you - how he grew to care for you. He deemed this moment fine, bordering tipsy and nearing drunk, he’d be open, brutally honest but still aware of the words that left him. He wasn’t a lightweight anyway. 

You wanted to tell him you also loved him, but you couldn’t do it, mouth slightly open and eyes glazed with heartbreak, you simply stared at him in hesitancy. You opened your mouth once to reply and closed it, open and close, again and again until all you could do was stare at him. How were you supposed to answer him after the bomb he dropped? 

”Yes! I love you too!”

”Oh, Miguel, I love you too.”

”I- I love you as well.”

There were so many ways to express your feelings to the man who confessed, but none seemed to convey the true emotions that lay in your heart. You wanted to tell him you learned to love again thanks to him, that the time spent with him had made you open your eyes to the beauty that you were blinded by the pain and you slowly grew to care for - love - him as much as you did with Spider-Man 2099. He had the same smile, the same mind, the same heart, but he was more innocent, less burdened by disaster and happier. 

So you simply nodded. It made his smirk grow.

“Aye- would it be better if I called you ‘mi tesoro’ instead? It’s more straightforward, no?”

Even now, his words were light and playful, his tone affectionate as he leaned closer to you. You could see the mischievous glint in his warm, chocolate eyes (you thought that was why he liked serving you hot chocolate, it reminded you of his eyes.) and the curve of his lips as they moved to form words. You were transfixed by his beauty, mesmerised by the comforting hues and the sharpness of his cheeks, missing how close he was to you. 

“Or maybe-”

Softness caressed your lips, a plush, warm feeling that made you flush. He was kissing you, those pretty lips on yours. Your breath stuttered and you froze, but it didn’t stop Miguel’s initiative, a hand cradled your nape, holding you in place as he pushed himself closer to you. He moved against you, tongue slipping from his mouth and tentatively laving over your bottom lip, asking for something. 

He was so warm, so caring. You could just close your eyes and follow his lead - you did. He pushed harder, yet the kiss stayed soft and passionate, he lightly nipped your lip and soothed the stinging with his warm tongue, beckoning you to open your mouth for him. Your lips parted, opening up for Miguel to dive in, muscle meeting yours halfway and curling over yours. He still cradled your head, fingers running through your loose hair and tilting your head backwards, giving him more space to show you how much he loved you. Your arms, somehow, found themselves wrapped around his neck, pulling him as close to you as he was pushing himself against you. 

His kiss was loving, his hold was careful and his touch heartwarming. You almost regretted having to pull away, but you had to breathe, your lungs starving for air after having been devoured by Miguel’s adoring kiss. The moment you opened your eyes (you didn’t know you had closed them while you kissed), his smile greeted you, a lovesick one bubbling with unending joy. You almost choked from how it fit so well on him. 

“That’s- that’s one way…” you spoke between breaths, chest swelling with every erratic pant, matching his similarly worn-out breathing.

That was all he needed from you. Your kiss was enough for him to know you loved him the same, a patient and gentle love he was willing to give you. Your heart pulsed strongly, lips curving and eyes squinting, you pushed yourself closer to his heat, his all-encompassing warmth that wrapped around you when you wanted to feel safe and loved. Your world couldn’t be any brighter, like the vibrant colours of blooming flowers when Persephone was given to her mother, where the snow melted and colours washed over the lands once more, painting the blank white and dead grey in joyous tones. It glowed brightly and warmed you like the summers that followed the melting ice, the clear, blue skies of Olympus and as freeing as the soaring hawks and skipping elks.

Letting go was far harder than loving. To let the person who you let in leave felt emptying, it left a gaping hole in his heart. Where it was once calm, struck a raging storm of rejection and regret, crashing waves the size of Poseidon’s rage and violent storms the strength of Zeus’ retribution. It hurt watching you walk beside a variant of himself, a happier and lighter version of him without his mutations or duty. You were the Spider-Woman of your universe so there wouldn’t be a second one unless there was a catastrophic canon divergence. 

He hadn’t followed you at first, respecting your wishes of being left alone. He had to give you that much, at least, after those months spent beside his ignorant ass. He hadn’t seen it until it was too late, lost under the weight of his duty and fears that he’d forgotten he had people who cared, who felt, who loved. It was too late, it was always too late with him. If he couldn’t fix his first mistake, who’s to say he could fix this? He couldn’t save his first daughter or his second’s universe because it was falling apart. He couldn’t save anyone because he hadn’t realised his mistake in interfering in canon events, and he lost you because he couldn’t stop his vitriol, his violent temperament that had pushed you away. He always took things for granted until they were lost to him. 

Was it two or three weeks before he decided to check up on you? He didn’t know anymore, the weeks blurred until he finally amassed the courage to go against everyone’s words. Through the flat hologram of his orange screen, he watched you lament on your own, body curled into itself and shoulders shaking. Your sobs were heart-wrenching to watch while he had no means of contacting you; you would’ve reacted more strongly and aggressively if he’d contacted you after leaving. 

So he watched.

You stared vacantly from your window and left only for the bare necessities or to act as Spider-Woman. Crime never slept so you couldn’t stop even in your time of need. You swung from building to building so gracefully that Miguel was hypnotised by your grace. He watched these moments as a reminder of the missions he took by your side, webbing and catching anomalies all across the multiverse with fearsome speed and accuracy. You both had made a fearsome team, but that time was over, it was a memory long forgotten. 

So he watched.

Your flat was cold and empty, the space filled with spectres of memories, the cool rooms vacant of life that used to fill them with warmth and happiness. It was saddening from his perspective - the observer, the watcher and the reader of your story - of your time spent alone. He wanted to tell you that you weren’t alone, that he was watching you from afar, a silent protector that would only act if you were in imminent danger - as long as it wasn’t part of the canon. 

So he watched-

Besides you was Miguel - not him, another one - and he looked much too comfortable by your side for his liking. His variant seemed much too close for a friend, moving from sitting before you to beside you, arm slung over your shoulders and leaning back and, sometimes, towards you at a breath’s distance. He turned green with envy, a vicious monster brewing inside his body with the threat of bursting out, clawing at his chest. The other was too close to you for his liking. 

He watched as his variant bought you drinks - always, however long and loud you’d complained and fought, he never let you pay in the end - and paid for your dates. He abhorred it. How happy you looked with the other him. How calm and satisfied your smile was. How close his variant was to you. He wished he was at the other’s place, taking his rightful place beside you. He would kiss you, smother you in love and give you whatever you wanted, whether it be a hug, a kiss or his time, he would’ve given them to you. He wouldn’t dance around the edge of your affection and his love like he was doing, like a man unsure of his feelings and anxious to act on it. 

He thought the other Miguel was a coward - though he knew he wasn’t. He wanted to blame his variant and find fault for anything he did, but they were still the same person. He was Miguel O’Hara as much as he was. He wanted, but couldn’t, especially after seeing how both loved you the same, having a similar type. They were so much alike that he could’ve replaced his variant, yet so vastly different in other manners that he would’ve stood out. His history, his trauma, his curse, the other had none of them. He was normal while he was Spider-Man, a stronger, more brutal version of Spider-Man. 

Granted, he loved you with every fibre of his being, but he had never showered you with as much love and affection as the other, having his character muddled through long hours of work and long-lasting tragedy. You were another of his tragedies, where he found love again and lost it by his own making. He would have left too if the Society didn’t depend on him, leaning towards him for support and help in protecting the multiverse. It was something he couldn’t sacrifice for his whims.

So he kept watching and let his heart crack and envy fester.

He watched you grow even closer to him, shoulders and hands occasionally touching, making you jump and blush. He watched you move from simple coffee dates to full-blown restaurants and bar dates, drinking and eating at your leisure - something he could’ve never provided you. He watched you wobble around when you were drunk, your arm over his shoulder and his around your waist, supporting your drunk weight. He watched you kiss, the other pressing your bodies together and you reciprocating the loving embrace you had once given to him. 

He felt like crying. He was crying, silent tears rolling down his sharp cheeks in slow, thundering waves of his heartbreak. He clung to the desk, claws unintentionally popping out and bending the metal under his fist. The sound ripped through the silent room like the image that ripped through his heart. He was alone in his grief, shoulders slumping and arms shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He had locked the door, barricading it with a busy, do not disturb sign, warning the others that he was occupied and wouldn’t be reached unless there was an emergency. 

“Miguel…”

He’d forgotten Lyla was here - she was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, with your help he had given Lyla an upgrade in her system that gave her access to every Spider that had the watch. She had access to every file in the database and his secrets. Lyla was loyal to him as much as she was to you, respecting your words with a promise of her own to leave you alone. That, however, didn’t mean that she wasn’t privy to his pains, watching him while his eyes were stuck to your universe’s screen, giving him some comforting words that were meant to lift his spirit. It never worked but the intention was there. 

He couldn’t look at her, still facing the hologram of you kissing. He felt the surge of too many emotions to be able to think clearly, his self-control tethering on a thin line of fragile web. If he turned, he would explode on Lyla, giving her the brunt of his suffering even though she didn’t deserve it, she felt and laughed as much as any other human. He remembered programming in emotion with you, laughing about how much she would be as teasing and annoying as you. Lyla was another gift to him by you, so it would hurt him more. 

“Miguel-”

“Don’t- Do not say another word.”

For a man in tears and pain, his voice was curt and stoic, playing the leading figure he’d taken for so long. It betrayed his shaky figure, fingers crushing the metal loudly and shoulders jerking with ever-wrenching choked sob. His world was crumbling around him, rippling and cracking from the seams and folding into itself. The control of his state was failing miserably as he kept staring at your mirthful smile after the kiss. It tore him apart knowing he pushed you further away and into the arms of another. It hurt him deeply. 

Through everything, he heard Lyla whisper a small sorry before she popped out of existence, her small holographic body vanishing along with her orange light. Gone was her familiar light, gone was the nostalgic memory of programming her, and along her, was the support of another person. He was truly alone in this moment, to fall on his knees and let himself drown under the weight of everything. 

If your love was a tangible thing, he would’ve cradled it between his warm palms, holding it tightly to his chest to feel the soothing effects you had on him. Like a balm to burns, you cooled the searing pains that the world inflicted upon him, the warm blanket that covered him when he needed rest and the pillar that held him when he fell. He’d lost something he couldn’t gain a second time, clutching his head in his misery, drowning and howling.

It felt surreal until it wasn’t until it all sunk in. He truly couldn’t grasp the utter loss and betrayal he felt. The realisation that he truly lost you to none other than himself. The irony of it all slashed deeper, how he drove you closer to another him by his own doing, making you love a Miguel with more gentleness, more kindness and time than him, Miguel O’Hara, the Spider-Man from Nueva York, Earth-928. Everything he had was lost in time, his spiralling thoughts of loss and misery clouded his vision, bringing tears forward in bigger waves. 

Was he doomed to lose everything he cared about? Was he bound to love and lose? Why couldn’t he have a happy ending like everyone else? Was it because he was different? Perhaps it was, there were other O’Hara Spider-Man, but none were mutated like him, a product of self-infliction and sabotage - none had their DNA spliced and mixed with a spider’s. He was simply too different from the others, they were lean but still had a strong musculature, muscles tightened to create more strength and defence; none were big and broad as he was, with rough edges and mean streaks. They were nice and happy, faced losses of their own, but always came out on top (there were some minor - sometimes major - variants of Spider-Man here and there, but they all had some similarities in their stories of becoming.). He saw the devastation and grasped onto the thinnest silver lining he could find, holding onto it to stay afloat while others thrived where they were. 

Maybe it was truly because of him. He was realistic - near cynic -  he couldn’t see things optimistically, life had made him that way. The silver lining he saw in things was small, nearly extinguished by his near-pessimistic way of life. Did that have an impact as well? It most likely did, at least partly. Fate had given him a bad hand in things, he couldn’t be completely blamed for how things turned - or so he thought, hoped. A man wasn’t only the result of what he’d done, but also of what he was given. When push comes to shove, Miguel acted in a way he thought meant well for him and the others even if it didn’t seem like the right decision at first. He rarely doubted his actions while he did them, only after, could he let himself face the consequences of what he’d done. Miguel simply didn’t have the pleasure of waiting. He needed to act when it was called.

If he had waited, if he had been patient and sought out others for support, if he had spent time thinking before acting, would he still have his little girl beside him? Would he still have you in his arms? If he had shown you more affection, would you have still loved him?

Did you still love him?

Miguel didn’t know what he was doing. Standing before your apartment door in civilian clothing and a bouquet of twelve, beautiful white tulips - the meaning not lost to him. It was an attempt at apologizing for his mistakes, a desperate one led by heartache. He brushed his hair back, trying to look as kept as he could in his situation: dark bags and sickly skin, tense muscles and sore back. This was a daring move from him, it would end up catastrophic if the Miguel from your universe saw him at your front door; but he checked, making sure his variant was elsewhere before opening a portal to your place. 

He hadn’t moved in a while, listening to you move around your flat, the sound of your soft steps shuffling from behind the door, a wall between you and him, reminding him that he wouldn’t be able to cross it unless you welcomed him. He held the bouquet in one hand and knocked with the other, his knuckles hitting the wood softly and hesitantly. There was a pause between every knock, drawn by his nerves and the anxiety that gripped him. 

You moved and closed in on the sound at the door. He saw your shadow dance under the small gap on the floor and pause. You knew. You knew it was him even without peeking through the peephole, your spider-sense aiding you in recognizing the unknown. Although your hand rested reluctantly at the knob - perhaps still too raw from your break as he was - you opened the door for him, figure small and apprehensive. 

“Miguel,” you muttered his name, greeting him with a slow nod. You stepped back and opened the door wider for him, he took it as a good sign that you let him in rather than shut the door in his face.

He nodded back, saying your name. He took a step forward, foot breaking the barrier to your flat. The second one ensured he was fully invited, both feet strongly rooted on your side of the door. He wanted to make himself smaller, to appease you, but he knew you wouldn’t have liked that. He squirmed under your stare, a mix of curiosity and concern. 

He nearly sighed audibly when you gestured at him to sit and he moved to the sofa he remembered sleeping on with you, cuddling under a warm blanket while you watched a movie. He knew your home by heart like you knew his, the memory washed over him with melancholy. You sat on the armchair to his left, your back to the kitchen. He swallowed thickly and handed you the bouquet, freshly cut tulips glistening with pearly drops under your lights. 

Your shoulders shook as you leaned in to take the bouquet, jolting back when your fingers grazed him. Feeling your skin felt invigorating, it breathed back life into him, even slightly. You thanked him with a slow nod, seemingly unsure of what to make of it. Was it a gift? Was it an apology? Was it a farewell sign? He figured your mind was running in circles trying to understand the meaning of the pretty bouquet he handed you. You were always an overthinker, but your mind worked brutally well. That’s something he always appreciated about you. 

“I-” Miguel started, seemingly stopped by something that he couldn’t get out of his throat. Maybe a ball of dread or needles of anxiety, but it held him from giving you the words he spent nights thinking over, to give you the message he built from the deepest crevice of his heart. “I’m sorry, (Name).”

You stared at him, understanding that he needed a moment of silence to truly convey his feelings. You hadn’t uttered a word since he first started, expression neutral, not betraying whatever brewing storm you locked inside of you. He was grateful, truly. 

“I know- I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I’m really, really sorry, mi vida.”

He sensed you tense, the muscles of your back contracting and rippling under your shirt. Every unseen fibre moving was bare to him, he could see and feel better than most, if not, everyone else. 

“I acted out of anger and lack of sleep, but that doesn’t mean you deserved that- never. I just, my mutation makes me more animalistic, more… aggressive than the other, and I hurt you. You didn’t deserve any of that and I can’t always blame it on my mutations. I should’ve been able to control myself. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you in those ways.”

He lowered his gaze to his hands, the calloused pads of his fingers rubbing his palm, trying to coax himself into relaxation. Although your breathing softened, a calm breeze in an atmosphere thick with tension, he didn’t dare look up and see the face you were making. 

“I was a bad boyfriend and a horrible friend. I’m- I’m not asking you to forgive me, I don’t want you to forgive me, but- I just needed to tell you how much I regret hurting you. I want to apologise, I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know how to fix this.” He breathed deeply, collecting every ounce of confidence and honesty to brave your reaction. “I’m sorry, mi cielo.” 

He shuddered, body rippling with his pained breath. He hadn’t realised how painful it would be to face you with his fears and confession, with the threat of abandonment and rejection fresh in his mind. He was a man of pride and strength, rarely facing anything with trepidation and hesitance. 

“I’m really sorry, mi cielo. I’m so, so sorry.”

He sat in silence, letting it hang over him like the blade of a guillotine, silent and brunt. Perceiving the flash of the sharp blade before it fell on his neck, sentencing him to a quick downfall with a long, lasting agony that would sting his neck as long as it would hurt his heart. The French used it for executions, the thing that spelled people’s end. At its height, it was used as an apparatus to behead traitors or people who were deemed dangerous to the people of the new republic. Down the blame went and off the head popped, like it would happen to Miguel if he wasn’t prepared for it. He truly didn’t know whether he had prepared for his rejection, for the death of his heart, to watch the flickering sparks of his flame wither out.

“I’m sorry too, Miguel-”

The rope strained, knots twisting and rippling in the tightness of the pull. It shook, whipping in the air as it straightened completely, held closely by the hand of the executioner. The wind blew but it was sturdy, withstanding the violent gales that slammed against the body of it.

“-it means a lot that you came here to apologise- ”

The crowd was filled with silence, the emptiness of the area a mock of a ghost town. Abandoned to be sentenced to death without anyone to witness. They deemed him not fit for their acknowledgment before his death, before the sparks of his life extinguished. His fate wasn’t worth their time, unlike the poorest criminals who stole for money, unlike the richest pigs who fed from the poor with their silver spoons and golden crowns, unlike the cruellest killers who gutted and left men, women and children to bleed out, and unlike the guiltless innocents cursed for something they hadn’t committed. 

“-but, I can’t.”

The rope was let loose, its tail flying and whipping in the air as the blade descended with its weight. The wood chafed against its support beams, yet it flew gracefully and rapidly, singing the doom of its prisoner. The blade gleamed under the moon’s bright light, the silver whispers of peace and sleep deaf to his ears.

“I can’t love you anymore.”

It cracked down on him, his life flashing before him as it cut into him. Severing his control over his body, putting out the dying embers of hope. He clung to desperation in his last moments, wishing to relive the moments of happiness, bright oblivion and cherished love. 

He wished that he could’ve seen your shadowed figure hidden in the darkness, tears lining your cheeks as you watched him take his last breath. The only person who came to see him leave, the one who he would’ve burned the world for. In the end, after everything he’d done, you still gave him a small moment of your time to witness his fall, you deemed him worthy of such an act. You offered him your kindness. 

My extensive tag list of extremely patient people pt1.:

@iseizeyourmom @raynerainyday @etherealton @sciencethot @coffee-obsessed-freak @thesecretwriter @beepboopcowboy@bontensh0e @aikoiya @allysunny @fandoms-run-my-life @brittney69 @aranachan @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @konniebon @starlightaura @redwolfxx @aniya7 @alicefallsintotherabbithole @bvbdudette @wwwelilovesyou @wwwellacom @akiras-key @bobafettbutifhewasgay @opiplover @rinieloliver @uniquecroissant @yas-v @xrusitax @blkmystery @darherwings @ariparri @notivie @vr00m-vr00m @battinsonwhore05 @irishbl0ss0mz @mivanda @saint-chlorine @livelaughluvmen @battinsonwhore05 @notivie @lililouvre @giasjourneyblog @ykyouluvme @skullywullypully

[thebunnyslibrary]

Movement

summary. You are the visiting princess of a kingdom in need. Instead, Loki will come to the aid of your needs. Having been searching for an element of sweetness for a spell, he finds himself drawn to you, especially when he senses a dark aura shielding your true self.

characters. Loki x Plus Size!Reader

word count. 7.4k

warnings. Asshole Parents, Death of a Sibling, Fatphobia, Dirty Talk, Use of Magic for Bondage

Masterlist

It was yet another frustrating day for Loki. He’d been trying for weeks to perfect a new spell, but for the life of him he couldn’t determine what the issue was.

The recipe in the tomes called for an element of sweetness. He’d tried every sweet element he could think of from every realm, but nothing worked. And now there was this visitation from an allied kingdom to deal with. Dawning his helmet, he took his step on the dais, next to his brother and behind his mother.

                “Everything alright Loki?” Frigga asked.

                “No worse than usual. Just a finicky spell.” Loki replied.

                “I noticed my supplies were disappearing faster than I was using them.”

                “My apologies, mother. I’ve been searching for an element of sweetness and cannot figure out exactly what the spell needs.”

                Frigga smiled a knowing smile and gave Loki’s hand a squeeze before resuming her royal stature. Loki glanced at Thor, who still looked fairly hungover from the previous evening’s rabblerousing revelries; despite it being long past the morning hour. Loki rolled his eyes and resumed his stoic-ness to prepare for the visitors.

                A visiting king and queen were appearing before the All-Father. He knew not why, only that they needed help with their daughter. Loki knew nothing about her. Nobody seemed to have anything to say besides 'Her eyes are nice.' He was half expecting her to just be a giant eyeball. Far stranger creatures had walked the halls of Asgard.

What he was not expecting was the goddess who entered the great hall behind her parents, looking only at the floor. Her rubenesque figure had Loki's hands clenching into fists at the thought of her thighs wrapped around his head. But Loki also sensed a dark, sad energy. This girl carried a true heartache, but why? Loki could not resist looking inside her mind.

Smile. Stand straight. Don't speak unless spoken too.  You repeated all this to yourself while trying to make yourself smaller; not an easy feat to do with your wide hips and round tummy. Your parents were the king and queen and it was your duty as a princess to represent the future of your kingdom. Especially after the reputation your older brother had set.

He'd deserted the throne, choosing instead a life of debauchery, opium, and in the end, crime. 2 years ago, news had arrived that your brother, the once crown prince, was found dead in a tavern; leaving you the only child of the throne. Now, with your parents growing older, there was talk amongst the kingdom of what would happen when their reign ended.

Your father and Odin spoke for some time, with Odin expressing condolences for your brother and your father explaining the depth of your kingdom's now precarious situation. But your father was not entirely truthful, choosing instead to weave a story of how your brother died heroically in battle.

"All-Father. We seek your council. We have always been good allies, a healthy tradeship, and now… we seek the hand of one of your sons for my daughter. To carry on our legacy." You looked between the two princes. Prince Thor, who seemed only half paying attention and had barely glanced his eyes at you before your father’s request, was now eyeing you with distaste; something you were used to.

The other prince, though, his face was set and his eyes were calculative, planning. But something about him seemed to draw you in; Almost in a warm and comforting way. You knew less about the younger prince, but you felt connected to him, if only because of his position as the second child. You wondered what his reaction to you is…

A husband?? For you??? Loki's heart raced at the thought. Surely your parents would most likely want Thor. Loki turned to the great oaf who was looking at you like a bug beneath his boot.

Loki however, couldn't help admiring you like art. He kept his face controlled and regal like a proper prince, but inside he felt something drawing him towards you. Maybe it was the sadness he felt coming from you. Your face was very neutral but he could feel an aura of sadness around you. But something was looking to escape; Loki could not determine what, only that it made him feel lighter than air.  Loki turned to Odin, awaiting his decision.

"And what does she have to say?" The All-Father asked, inviting you to speak for yourself for the first time since you’d entered the hall. His question surprised you, but your father beckoned you forward; a stern look on his face, reminding you not to say anything stupid.

"I want…what is best for my kingdom" You said, speaking the truth. There were many other things you wanted. You wanted to spend your days drawing, painting, reading, indulging in all of life's pleasures, as you believed all in the kingdom who wish to do so should be. And you weren't dumb by any means, you could easily engage in conversation for hours about literature and philosophy, even policy. But still your parents believed you were not disciplined enough to rule. Especially not with how people talked about you, particularly your figure.

Your mother and father were not exactly small people, and somehow their genetics had combined to give you broader everything, hips, waist, though not as much your chest. This all meant you often drew comments about selfishness; especially with your parents ever increasing taxes.

You truly wanted what was best for your people. And your parents decided this was it. To marry a strong king whom your parents trusted to rule the kingdom while you played the role of silent wife.

The All Father considered you a moment before nodding "Very well. I would like your daughter to stay here in Asgard for a week and allow my sons to court her. So long as everything goes well, a marriage will be arranged." Hearing this, your parents were overjoyed, holding each other closely; but not looking at you.

"Oh thank you All Father!" your father cried. Odin stood up, declaring "Tonight, we will celebrate with a banquet." You froze.

Oh no. Not a banquet. A loud noisy party with too much food. You swallowed your dread as your mother said to you.

“Come, we’ll get you dressed.”  You looked back to the younger prince before you exited the great hall, seeing what looked like a smirk playing at his lips.

As soon as the doors closed, Loki had a sudden spark of inspiration in the back of his head. Even though your parents did not see, he'd seen your eyes light up, and the darkness around you flashed…green.

“And where are you off to, my son?” Frigga asked.

“To prepare for banquet, of course.” Loki replied mischievously.

An hour or so later, you were tucked into a slightly ill-fitting purple dress, a corset making you appear somewhat thinner and pushing your chest up (though nothing hid your voluptuous behind). Your mother did her best to comfort you, but she was still in mourning of your brother. Her moods fluctuated between looking through you and criticizing you. Tonight unfortunately, she’d chosen to criticize.  

“There will be a lot of food tonight. Remember you do not need to sample anything.”

Your father also took his chance to get a few harsh words in “You may not be able to reel in Prince Thor but the younger son would work too. I’ve heard he’s smart. And strategic.”

“What is his name?” you asked.

“I don’t remember.” Typical of your father, never remembering the details. “I will advise you to be wary though. The younger prince is a master of magic, I’m not sure whether it for bad or good.”

“Stop fidgeting.” Your mother said as she smoothed out your dress, trying to hide anything she deemed ‘too fat.’

“The maids said he had a nickname…Silver Tongue? They said it’s because he is…well, charming.”

“The maids are a bunch of whores and gossips.” Your father said, rolling his eyes. “They call him Silver Tongue because he is a master manipulator. So keep your wits about you. …what little you have. Now, be down in the banquet hall in 25 minutes.”

Your mother gave you one sympathetic pat on the shoulder before they left you alone with your thoughts.

Once again you’d been fooled and your father made you feel like you were mentally incompetent. It wasn’t really your fault though, you just wanted to try to make friends and couldn’t tell when someone was deceiving you. It came from your good-natured heart.  But Loki, there was something about him that made you want to truly open up. You wondered where he was, how he was preparing for what you were sure was going to be a disaster of a night.

Loki looked around corner into the kitchen; and the only person there was the head cook, stirring away at some pot for the banquet, muttering about how Odin would throw something like this on her at the last minute. Perfect, so focused on her own issues she never saw Loki sneak up behind her and wave his hand, opening up her mind to suggestion.

“My prince, is there something I can do for you?” She asked him, a faint green glow in her eyes.

“Yes actually. I believe that extravagant chocolate cake of yours would be a perfect desert choice for tonight. Don’t you agree?” Loki said.

“Of course, my prince.

“Oh, and make sure this makes its way into the princess’s serving.” Loki handed her a small green bottle. A concoction of his own brewing.

“Of course, my prince”

“One last thing, forget I was ever here.”

                The cook blinked and she was alone in the kitchen, with no memory of the last few moments. All she knew was she had to get to work on chocolate cake for the banquet. And ensure wherever this potion had come from, it was in the princess’ dessert.

The banquet looked immaculate, given the last-minute plans. Banners of your kingdom had been hung alongside those of Asgard, hoping to bring good luck to a potential union. And as you’d dreaded, the food all looked so exquisite and tempting.

                Asgardian diet was very protein and fat heavy. Meats, cheeses, mead. There were more grapes in the wine being served than physically on the table. There were a few lighter options, but they were more meant as palette cleansers than actual food. You’d taken the smallest serving of meat and potatoes possible, but your stomach growled and your mouth watered at the delicious sights and smells; longing to partake in every one of them.  The food was certainly the highlight of the banquet so far.

                You’d danced with Thor before dinner, though he barely engaged you in conversation. He had asked about your kingdom, but when you’d started to talk about the kingdom’s people and the cultures, Thor rudely interrupted to know about your country’s resources, their exports, and you clammed up. Thankfully the dance ended there, saving you from having to answer.

While you knew the country’s resources, you believed more in the sharing of cultures, rather than just buying and selling of things. You couldn’t even enjoy the feeling his strong arms around you because he moved you with no care, as if loading a cart.

                After dinner was dessert and then you were supposed to dance with the other prince. He hadn’t come to ask you to dance yet, leaving you to sit and stare at what had to be the most amazing chocolate cake you could ever dream of. It was 3 beautiful layers of sponge with crème in between each layer and fresh raspberries on top. But you knew if you had a bite, you’d never hear the end of it from your parents.

 Somehow it seemed your piece was almost double the size of the ones of your parents, making them stare at you accusatory, but you hadn’t done anything. It wasn’t as if you’d asked for a larger piece.

                “Why, my lady, you haven’t touched your desert.” A smooth voice broke through your thoughts and you looked up into piercing green eyes. The prince was staring at you. He was dressed as he was earlier in the great hall, including his golden horned helmet and his flowing green cape.. You stared in awe at the way his helmet shined in the light. Until you realized you’d left him unanswered.

                “N-no, your highness. It’s alright though. I’m not hungry. And I owe you a dance.” You insisted.

                “Oh, princess. I wouldn’t dream of taking a woman from her desert. Especially a chocolate cake as delicious as this.” He said, temptingly. He came around the side of the table to sit in what was now an empty seat to your right. He took your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips, making sure to meet your eyes so you could see the fire burning in them. “Prince Loki, at your service.” You gave him yours, feeling your face heat up as he repeated it back to you, rolling off his tongue like poetry.

                He picked up one of the golden forks, and taking a generous sized bite.

                “You…you’re going to feed me?” you asked, astonished.

                “I am at your service, after all.” When you didn’t react, still hearing your mother’s voice in your head. He took a kinder smile, his eyes softening. “Entertain me one bite, princess. I simply have to the see the look on that face when you indulge in …something sweet.”

                Loki was watching your face indeed, and your aura. He knew if you took one bite of the cake, the potion he’d mixed would release your inhibitions and you would be your true self, the self that Loki was dying to meet behind your beautiful eyes and bountiful curves.

                You looked around, seeing your parents were busy talking to the All Father and Mother.

                “I suppose one bite would be alright.” And you weren’t sure you could deny Loki, the name was different to you but it seemed playful and fun, certainly as much as the man looking at you now. He hadn’t asked you a single question, hadn’t even asked for his dance but was instead urging you to…have cake? You opened your mouth and he slipped the fork between your lips.

The taste was anything far better than you’d imagined. The cake was made with rich Asgardian chocolate that legend said was the aphrodisiac used to conceive the gods. The sponge of the cake itself was pillowy soft. While the tartness of the raspberry managed to cut through all the sugar to compliment the edge of bitterness that gave way to a sweet aftertaste as the silky frosting melted in your mouth. You couldn’t stop the moan that let loose from your lips.  

                You covered your mouth in shock. “Please, forgive me your highness. That was highly inappropriate.”

                “Perish the thought darling. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I certainly did.” Loki said. You looked at him confused. Surely he was jesting? “Come, I believe I’ll have that dance now.”

The feeling of Loki’s arms was much different than that of Thor’s. While Thor handled you like a bag of flower, Loki held you with great care. Making you feel safe and secure. While not as bulky as his brother, Loki seemed to possess a different kind of strength. One meant to fight to defend, not necessarily attack.

                A sweet soft song filled the room as the musicians began to play. You’d never considered yourself a dancer, always worried what someone would say of your form. But now, with Loki, you felt like a leaf drifting in the wind. With Loki leading, you felt free to just enjoy yourself in the movement.

                “I suppose you want to talk about my kingdom’s resources? Thor certainly did.” You said.

                “Believe me I am nothing like my brother.” You could relate to that. “And you don’t seem all that interested in talking about resources, though.” He looked at you inquisitively. And though your instincts ordered you to clam up and nod, you couldn’t help yourself from saying

                “No, I believe we should use our resources to help our less fortunate. Keep some to trade as needed, but I believe we should exchange cultures, not currency, first.” You froze in disbelief; you couldn’t even imagine how stupid you sounded.

                “I agree.” Loki’s velvet voice shook you from your self-doubting. “Royalty must think of the people; otherwise they’re likely to lead a short rule with a bloody end.”

                “Something my family has had to re-learn; for example, ignoring a kingdom to focus on one royal member.” Despite your newfound willingness to keep talking, you did give pause when the conversation started to shift to your brother.

                Loki sensed your usual instinct weighing out his potion and decided to change the subject. “I completely understand. Tell me about your kingdom instead.”

                “We were once a society that valued great art.” You explained, wistfully.

                “Once? No longer?” Loki inquired.

                “No; our kingdom has unfortunately turned selfish and judgmental, choosing to value a high standard of beauty, not just passion and creation for passion and creation’s sake.” Your angers and frustrations flowed so willingly; despite the years of repression your parents had forced on you.

                “I see.” Loki pulled you closer to him. You two were quiet for a minute, letting you admire his face. You knew plenty about his eyes; sparkling like a thousand emeralds in a dragon’s hoard. But now you were close, you could see the pink plushness of his lips, the angular jaw of his chin, and you could feel his inky black hair tickling your fingers as you moved your hand up his back slightly. Not to mention the solid muscle you felt underneath his fine Asgardian leather.

“It’s such a pity that a kingdom who cannot see beauty when it’s right in front of them.” He certainly lived up to his nickname. You were sure he was just being polite, playing his part as royal prince. “Tell me, princess, do you value great art?” His question caught you off guard.

                “I-I certainly do. In fact, one reason I was excited to come to Asgard was to see the great gallery.”

                “Perhaps you will allow me to give you a tour of them?” he offered.

                “Allow? Your highness, it is my understanding that you are to be in charge.”

                “And it is my understanding; that I am far more interested in what you want, princess. And I’ll hope you want to call me by my name. It sounds so lovely coming from your luscious lips.”

                “Y-Yes Loki.”

                “Good girl.” Those two words; you’d read them plenty of times in the books you squirreled away from the royal library (grateful that the elderly librarian was your confidant). But you’d never dreamed that someone, especially someone as handsome and with a voice like Loki’s would actually say them to you. Hearing them sent a shiver down your spine that settled in your core, making you clench your thighs.

                “Are you an artist yourself, princess?” Loki asked, carrying on as if nothing happened. But he knew, Your aura was glowing a brilliant bright green. You were his element of sweetness.

                “I…I do like to paint sometimes. But I’m not very good.” You admitted, finally finding your voice again.

                “I’m sure they are lovely, princess. Even so, if you enjoy something, good or bad does not matter. Only that you have enjoyed it and put yourself into it. That is what makes ‘good’ art. I’d certainly love to see it.”

                Loki’s words were a far cry than what you’d always heard. People mocked your art, believing it childish and unprofessional.

                “What else do you enjoy?” he asked.

                “Well, I read.”

                “What exactly do you read, princess?” Loki asked with a waggle of eye brows that had you giggling like a school girl.

                “Poetry, preferably. But anything and everything I can. At least when I am able.” You caught your mother’s eye across the room and though she looked approving, she still gestured at you to keep your smile “gentle” as she called in, meaning not too big. Your smile faltered and Loki noticed, as well as the reason why. In an attempt to re-lift your spirits, he said

                “Well, I shall have to show you the library on that tour as well.” His voice sounding genuine and full of promise.

The song ended and Loki escorted you back to your seat, pressing his lips back to your hand one more time.

                Your mother took your other hand and squeezed it lovingly, seeming proud that you had somehow managed to intrigue Loki; which also left yourself in a slight state of disbelief. You weren’t quite sure how’d you’d done it, but all you knew was that you were craving more of his touch and presence.

                Loki had left you, not by choice but nature called even to royal princes. As he returned to the dining hall, he made eye contact with you instantly; and was more than delighted to see you rise, say a few words to your mother and start to come towards him. But his mood changed as Thor moved into his field of vision

“Loki I’m surprised. You cannot be genuinely interested in that princess, can you?”

“And why would that be, brother?” Loki replied, his voice tense on the last word.

“Surely you see her Loki? She’s not worthy of being a queen. A queen has to present a beautiful image to her people and she’s…not.  I suppose if you were king you could take a consort. Or perhaps a COW-nsort.” Thor said, starting to laugh boisterously at his own joke. Loki was going to brush Thor aside when he saw you standing right behind the brute, and knew that you had heard every word. Your aura, which had been shining brilliantly green when Loki had left you, returned a dim grey. Even though your face showed no reaction.

Loki however, reacted before he could stop himself, drawing his arm back and landing a solid blow to Thor’s face, knocking him back and onto the floor. All eyes were now on the scene; including your parents, who were looking at you accusingly and you wished the floor would just swallow you up.

                Instead, you felt Loki grabbing your hand.

                “Come with me, princess.” Before you could say a word, he was pulling you out of the banquet hall and through the corridors of the palace until he pulled you into corner. Now that you were alone, the last few moments finally caught up with you.

“Loki, you punched your brother.”

“Trust me, it is taking all my strength not to go back and doing it several more times. And a few other things.”

“But why? I’ve heard far worse about me.” You explained and Loki’s eyes seemed to fill with sadness hearing this before they lit up with an idea.

“Would you like to see my garden?”

“What?”

“Would you like to see my garden? It might be best if I hide for a little bit considering what I’ve done and my garden is the most secret place in the whole palace…except maybe my mother’s.” You could hear what sounded like guards coming towards you and nodded quickly. Loki took your hands and you felt a warm gust of wind blow over you.

When you opened your eyes, you were not standing at a garden but at the edge of a forest. Loki waved his hands and the trees seem to part.

“My garden has a secret entrance at the end of this pathway. I could have teleported us directly, but it is such a lovely night. I was sure the moonlight would make you look even more beautiful.” He offered you his hand and feeling as if you were in a dream, took it and allowed him to take you down the road. The full moon overhead cast everything in a dim light, along with some bioluminescent plants, bathing the scene in a romantic mood.  You couldn’t believe it; things like this didn’t happen to you.

Along the way, Loki continued to ask about your passions and interests, Even when you rambled too much about your favorite books, or at least what someone else might’ve called talking too much, Loki hung on your every word. And you in turn were intrigued by his stories of Asgard, answering every one of your questions, even if he had to pause his story to do so, but showed no annoyance.

Finally, you two came to a large clearing. In it were all varieties of flowers in a rainbow of colors; including a group of roses that grew in an actual rainbow. The flowers emitted such a strong aroma that it made your hear feel light as a feather. Several small bushes bore exotic fruits and what appeared to be an herb garden caught your eye. A small hut sat next to a river at the far end of the clearing.

 “I built a small workshop out here for when I need to get away from the palace to research magic.” You came to a beautiful wooden bench at the edge of a river, with lavendar growing along banks. The bench itself was surrounded by glowing flowers and it seemed to have formed between two trees. The backside was carved intricately with Asgardian designs and runes.

                “Come, sit.” Loki offered you a seat which you gladly took, admiring the breathtaking view. Before Loki sat, he removed his cape and wrapped it around you, leaving his arm over shoulders. He waved his hand and a beautiful golden rose grew up towards you. A small gasp in awe passed through your lips as Loki smiled.

“Tell me, darling what would you do if you were the queen?” Loki asked you.

“What does that have to do with defending me?” you asked In return.

                “Well, would you not expect your husband to defend your honor?” That last word took you aback.

                “I suppose but…”

                “So, what you do if you were queen?” And you paused for a moment, never having given a lot of thought, because you thought it would never be.

                “I don’t know. Make sure the people were happy?”

                “How would you do that?”

                “Let people do what they want, so long as they’re not hurting each other and the kingdom is not in flames.” You shrugged half-heartedly.

                “And what would you do to punish those who were hurting other people?” There you had pause. You wanted to be fair and just; wanted to take care of your citizens. But you knew there were people like your brother out there; those who would hurt just for harm’s sake, no matter how anyone tried to help.

                “I’m not sure, honestly. I suppose the obvious answer is jail, but it’s more complicated.” You sighed. “It’s always more complicated.”

                “You speak from experience?” Loki asked. The pause was pregnant. You could reveal the truth now, but would it bring shame on your house as your parents worried? 

                “My brother. The story my parents told is not entirely true. He is dead, but not from battle. From a life of debauchery. He cared for nothing but his own selfishness, no matter who it harmed. Leaving me to bear so much responsibility." Loki squeezed your hand.

                “I can understand that. You might’ve noticed Thor is not exactly the most graceful.”

                “That’s putting it mildly.” You smiled weakly. Loki cupped your cheek with his hand, gently guiding you to look into his emerald eyes which gleamed in the moonlight.

                “I know my apology does not seem much in the way of things, but I want to tell you how sorry I am. Not just for Thor’s behavior, but for how life has treated you. And that I see you; And I wish to give you everything you have ever deserved. You have a thoughtful brain, a strong but warm heart, and a passion that is simply intoxicating and admittedly contagious. I want to indulge you in every of life’s pleasures.” Loki cupped your other cheek and brought his lips to yours in an amazing kiss.

                You were stunned at first, but as what you’d been thinking about all night suddenly became real, you let yourself melt into it. His kiss reminded you of the winter snows back home, brisk but it made you enjoy the warmth of his hands on your face all the more. Finally he pulled away and you could not help the tears that sprung to your eyes. Loki’s faced was instantly concerned.

                “Are you alright, pet?”

                “I am. I just…I’m convinced this is a dream. I’ve never been, wanted like this before.”

                “Does this mean you are a maiden?”       

                “Not…exactly. There was a member of father’s guard once. But he never spoke to me again afterwards. Left the guard entirely. And told all his buddies I ‘wasn’t worth it’.” Loki’s temper flared, but he focused back on you.

                “Forget about any past experiences, pet. I cannot wait to spend hours making you moan and quiver at my touch. I want to explore every inch of you with my hands…and my tongue.” He said, his voice low and raspy and you squeezed your thighs together. “Do you like that idea pet? If we were to wed, maybe I’d have you sit on my lap during court sessions. After all you do want to let people…do what they want, don’t you? So long as they’re not hurting anyone.” You bit your lip, considering the idea. It was almost as if he could read your mind. He placed a kiss to your forehead.

                “I can pet.” He said with a smirk.

                “What? For how long” You asked, covering your face in embarrassment.

                “Since you were hiding behind your parents.” Loki cupped your cheek, bringing your face back toward his.  “And I heard all your pain and heartache. But beneath it I saw a guiding hand, needly only a strong sword to wield. Or…perhaps a dagger.” Loki smirked. “If you’d like, I could be that dagger. I know Thor is destined to be All-Father, but I could settle for being a king with a beautiful queen. What do you say?”

                What did you say? You could hardly believe what he was saying. It was all too good to be true, but as you looked in his eyes, searching for any hint of malice, and finding none, decided to throw caution to the wind and you leaned in to kiss him now, wrapping your arms around him. “I say your father was right about planning a wedding.” You and Loki both chuckled.

                “It would be more proper if I sent you to bed, but I am afraid before I become king I must throw propriety to the wind at least once.”

                “You don’t seem the type to care for propriety, kinghood be damned, Loki.”

                “You’ve caught me. But that only means I will have to show you how fun being improper truly is.”

In a flash you were back in Loki’s chambers. A beautiful bedroom with a massive wooden frame and green silk sheets. There was one door that must’ve led to a bathroom; and two double doors that probably led to the rest of his space.

                “Now, I promise I did not dig too deep into your mind, darling. But I could certainly tell what you were thinking when you look at me." Loki waggled his eyebrows, and your face warmed. "I think I know exactly what you need. And if you are uncomfortable at any point, I will stop. But I think you desire someone to take charge in the bedroom. Not to control but to take care of you. Is that right, pet?”

                “Yes, please…my king.” You said, smiling sheepishly. Without warning, Loki bent down to scoop you up and throw you over his shoulder, making you gasp. “Loki! No, you can’t…”  But your words were cut off with a yelp as Loki brought his hand down upon your ass in a sharp spank.

                “Can’t what, darling?” Loki asked, incredulously.

                “P-pick me up. I’m…I’m too heavy.” You whined as Loki spanked you again.

                “I’m sorry kitten did you say something?” Loki’s tone daring you to say something else bad about yourself.

                “No, my king.” You whimpered, the blood rushing to your head making you slightly woozy.

                “Good, because if I thought you were doubting my abilities to take care of you, by say, suggesting I am not strong enough to support and love every inch of you, I might have to punish you.” You got the message from his tone and tampered down any further injections.

                “Yes, my king.”

                “Good girl.” Loki carried you over to his bed, and you certainly appreciated not just the feeling of being carried, as you’d read about in so many books but only imagined for yourself, but the great view of Loki’s backside. Since he’d shed his cloak you could see how the fine Asgardian leather clung to his back. He was not nearly as bulky as Thor was, and you were glad of it. Loki’s strength wasn’t for show, but he still made you feel safe and secure.

                You landed on his bed with a soft oof but could barely relish how soft the sheets were before your arms were tugged above your head and your ankles spread wide. But Loki wasn’t even touching you. He waggled his eyebrows playfully.

                “Did you know your king was a master of magic, pet?”

                “I had heard you had some powers…and I’d heard your nickname…Silver Tongue.” You said the last words in a hushed voice, scared of finding out people had been messing with you again.

                “Oh you have heard correctly.” And I’ve been thinking about showing you why since I first laid eyes on you” Loki crawled on the bed, making the top half of his armor disappear, leaving him only in his trousers. He was kneeling between your legs. “First, I need to see what is hidden beneath this beautiful dress. I can’t wait to see you bathed in my colors.” He waved his hand and your dress suddenly vanished. Leaving you only in your corset and silken panties.

“Fuck, you’re better than any yuletide gift.” Speaking to his metaphor from earlier, Loki summoned a dagger into his hand and slowly ran the blade up your chest, slicing off each individual button to release your flesh. The sight of the blade in his strong hand as he held it so carefully, combined with the freedom as the corset fell away you sucked in a deep breath made you try to clench your thighs. But Loki’s magic bonds held strong. 

“I promise my pet, from now own, corsets will be your choice to wear; not so you have to hide this luscious body from me.” Loki’s hands grabbed your hips, and you were half hoping he’d leave bruises, then ran over your stomach, tickling you slightly, before moving to your breasts.

                Your nipples had perked up at exposure to the air and Loki’s hands were now cold as he tweaked them into even harder peaks. “Loki…my goodness…your hands are like ice…”

                “Sorry pet, I couldn’t resist playing with you just a little bit. You’re so adorable. And there is one more thing I must confess to you. You are familiar with the frost giants of Jotunheim?”

                “Just in name only.” Loki let out a small sigh in what seemed like relief. Before your eyes, Loki’s glimmer faded for a moment, revealing blue skin with rigid marks all along his face and chest. “I too know what means to be judged by appearances.” Loki paused, scared of your silence. But his fears washed away when you spoke.

                “I only wish I were untied so I could trace every one of those markings on your chest, my king.” Your kind heart, the innocent way you looked at him, without a hint of fear or disgust. Loki could feel his magic flare and he felt something feral within him snap. He returned his Asgardian glimmer.

                “Fuck darling I have to make you mine, now.” Loki growled, pressing his face between your legs. He tongue was indeed cold as silver, but it only made you moan louder as he seemed intent his promise and explore every inch, starting with your pussy. “Your little cunt is absolutely dripping for me, pet. And you called me improper.” He resumed his ministrations, moving his tongue to circle your clit and pushing two fingers into you and curling them up, causing your hips to buck into his face

                “Someday soon, I will have to make you show me how you touch yourself, my pet. So I know how to better please my queen.”

                “Y-yes my king.” You panted out as Loki added a third finger; the utterly sinful noises coming from between your legs were only driving your arousal further. Not only did Loki seem determined to make you cum, but to make an art out of it.

                “Good girl, pet. You will have two thrones. One in public,” He grinned wolfishly at you, green eyes flashing with power. “and one in our chambers.”

                “Uhm-I don’t…I don’t think…” Loki’s other hand smacked your clit hard, making you cry out.

                “If you can still think about denying me, or worse, INSULTING what is mine…I clearly haven’t done my job right.” Loki growled as he withdrew his fingers from you, making you clench around nothing. He brought his fingers his lips and made a show of lewdly slurping your juices off them. “Oh yes, far sweeter than anything I have tasted in my lifetime.”

Loki leaned down to kiss you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. You were amazed at how powerful and confident his kiss made you feel. It was almost like you could feel his magic flowing through you. And it was driving you crazy with want. Especially with the way Loki was rolling his hips against yours.  He moaned into the kiss. “You can feel my energy can’t you, my powers? That’s you, My sweet little pet.”

“Wha- what do you mean?” your head was swimming in pleasure you’d never experienced before and here was Loki speaking in riddles.

“You’re the final piece to my latest spell, my element of sweetness.”

“What spell?”

“To make my siedr stronger; allowing me do things like keep you pinned to this bed and much more. There’s a spark inside of you that I’ve been able to draw out.”

“I have…magic?” you asked

                “Not exactly, pet. But you make a wonderful conductor. And I know what’ll the sparks really fly.” His lips found yours in a kiss that made you understand true passion. Your toes were curling and you were pressing your body against his as much as you could against his magic bonds.

                “Whatever your heart desires, it is yours pet. I shall pluck every star from the heavens, raze any planet to ash, I am your dagger, my queen. Wield me at your command.” Loki promised, his voice heavy and lustful.

                “Loki, please…fuck me.” You whimpered out, his words, the feeling of his cock grinding against your cunt, it was all so overwhelming and you were beginning to feel like you needed him like you needed oxygen.

                “Since you begged so sweetly.” With a wave of his hand, his trousers were gone. You gasped when you saw his cock. It was twice the size the guard’s had been, and far thicker. Dribbles of pre-cum ran down the side. You found yourself licking your lips, having never been a fan of the act before, now you were imagining Loki using your throat to warm his cock while sitting upon a throne.

                “Another time, pet.” Loki chuckled. “Right now, I must claim you as mine.” He leaned in to kiss you again as he pushed his cock inside you. He moved slowly at first, gently rolling his hips and allowing you to adjust to him. When he pulled his lips away, your heavy breaths turned to moans as you relished in the feeling of him. It was far better than your fingers had ever been able to reach and when he finally bottomed out, Loki used his thumb to rub small circles around your clit, making your pussy clench around him.

                “Oh my pet, you feel so warm and perfect around my cock. Like you were made for me. Made to be my beautiful queen, and my slutty fucktoy.” Suddenly he grinned and his eyes flashed with an idea… “In fact…” He snapped his fingers and your shoulders felt instant relief as you were able to move your arms; but only for a moment as Loki leaned down to grab your wrists in each hand. Before you could question him, you found yourself being turned over so you were looking down at loki now. “Now, my sweet little toy. Bounce for me.”  

Your wrists were tugged behind your back again by his magic, leaving Loki’s hands free to fondle your curves. When you didn’t move, he gave your waist a playful pinch. “I said, bounce, little rabbit.”

                “But won’t I…hurt you? I mean, I’ve never had a partner want me in their lap cause I know I’m…” your words were cut off by Loki squeezing your cheeks. He brought his face so close to yours you could smell your cunt on his breath when he spoke.

 “My gorgeous, beautiful, queen; If I hear another word from these perfectly plump lips that is detrimental to your shapely figure; I shall be forced to keep you bound to my bed until you can’t remember a single thing but your own pleasure. Is that understood?”

                “Y-yes, my king.” You said, not sure whether you were more scared of his threat, or how pleasurable the idea sounded.

                “Now, I believe I gave you a command, little bunny.” Loki reminded you, pressing a surprising chaste kiss to your cheek before resuming his hands’ ministrations.

                You slowly started rocking your hips to move up and down. The position wasn’t easy on your knees, but when your clit brushed against the hard chisel of Loki’s body, nothing else mattered. Loki kept one hand on your hip to help guide you while the other rolled your nipples between his fingers pulling every now and then and making you grind down on him hard.

                “That’s it, my pet. I shall show you how to walk the edge between pain and pleasure.” His hips were rising to meet yours as he chased his own pleasure. “Your quim is perfectly fit for my cock; and you are a true call to motion. I will have to have you painted like this.” His words were poetry that only drove you towards your climax faster.

                “Loki…my king…I need to…”

                “Yes, yes my pet! Cum for me and feel me filling you up. The first of many times to…come.” He said before his own orgasm grabbed hold of him; contorting his angelic face in pleasure while crying out your name and pushing his hips up, somehow forcing his cock even deeper within you.

                You swore you were seeing genuine stars behind your eyes as your climax crashed down over you. You could feel Loki’s cum inside you and running down your thighs as he rutted into you a few times, riding out his own orgasm. When you both were stilled, your arms came free and you were able to let yourself fall onto his chest.

                Loki’s arms engulfed you and he held you close to his chest. Your mind raced as your finger absently minded drew shapes on his chest.

                “Pet, I promised I wouldn’t read your mind, but I still can hear the thoughts twisting around.” He placed a kiss on your forehead before using his index finger lifted your chin to meet his eyes. “What troubles you?”

                “I just…I have never been the chosen favorite, the one actively pursued, But the way you look at me… I suppose I still worry that the rug will be pulled from beneath me.”

                “Oh my pet, When you move, I could never define all that you are to me. You are the rite of movement. When you move, I move. And your movements drive me to do impossible things, all for you.” Loki promised with another passionate kiss.

                “Rest now, darling. When we wake; we will have a wedding to planned.” He drew you in and you considered his words. When you move, I move. You smiled, allowing the truth of Loki’s devotion to you to wash over like the ocean and you resolved to be as devoted to him.

                “Yes, my king.”

[holdmytesseract]

Hello sweetie!!!

Good to know that you've opened requests because do I have A WONDERFUL request for YOU!

Okay okay, of course for me I'm going to request Loki so here goes...

Loki and Reader are arranged to marry and have never met before (either Reader is a princess or just a lady). The day of the wedding, reader suggests a first touch with her fiance - how could Frigga deny that? So they do it. Then, when they see each other at the altar, it's as if the world stops for them both.

I left it a bit vague so you can expand but I am so excited to see what you make of it! I love you so much and please do DM me if you need something 🫂🥰❤️

~LRM

Marrying a Stranger

Loki Odinson x fem!Princess!Reader

Summary: You are arranged to marry Prince Loki of Asgard. Fear and pre-wedding nerves get the better of you and you can't help but ask Frigga for help. Of course is the good-hearted Queen more than willing to help out...

Warnings: arranged marriage? angst, fluff, sweet Loki

Word Count: 2,5k

a/n: I actually wanted to post a new chapter of 'Through the Years' today, BUT the birthday of my wonderful friend @lady-rose-moon is definitely more important. 🥰 Therefore, I'd like to post this lil' oneshot as a gift. 😊 Again, happy (belated) birthday, friend!

Ps. I'm also incredibly sorry that his took me so long to write... I hope you like it nevertheless! I love you, too! 💚

Tags: @lady-rose-moon @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbsblr @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @theaudacitytowrite @jennyggggrrr @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @valencia-rou @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @lokiforever @anukulee @multifandom-worlds (Continuing in the comments!)

Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist

The day had arrived. The day you looked forward to in excitement and anticipation, but also with fear and nervousness. Your wedding. Your arranged wedding, to be precisely.

You were a princess. Only daughter of the king and queen of Vanaheim. And due to the royal blood pumping through your veins, you were not allowed to choose the man you'd marry. The man would be chosen for you. At first, you didn't approve of this and were literally appalled by the mere imagination of marrying a strange man you had never seen before, but your mother and all your tutors had quickly put you in your place.

There was no way out of this - and you had to accept that. It was your fate. Your destiny. The destined path for a princess.

This is not of importance, sweetheart. You don't have to meet your future husband, in order to marry him.

A few centuries ago, when you had reached womanhood, your marriage was arranged and announced within the kingdom. You were bespoken to king Odin's and queen Frigga's youngest son... Prince Loki of Asgard.

Throughout all the years you had never met your betrothed.

That is the man I shall marry?

That was what your mother had answered to your question if you could meet the prince you were going to marry.

So, the topic was off the table. You had been taught to obey your mother, so why would you dare to ever ask her again? The decision was made. No meant no. You only ever heard stories of your future husband... That he was quite special - and not in the good way. Most people spoke of his mischievous and cunning nature. Some even said villainous, brute and rebellious. To hear those words scared you.

You had dreamed of true love and romance. Of being courted and wooed. You dreamed of a sweet, kind man who would treat you like you deserved - and not of a brute who would treat you like his maid. You spent endless sleepless nights within your chambers, thinking about your future with Loki. What if he truly was just a harsh, mischievous scamp? What if your dreams were about to shatter?

And now, suddenly the moment had come...

But then you started to hear other stories of Loki Odinson as well. About how charming and witty he is. How gentlemanly and eloquent. And how utterly handsome he shall look.

You were torn. Torn by every story they told you - and the worst part was that you never got to find out what the truth was and which talk was cheap. At least not until the day you would marry him. It left you a mess.

You were standing in a huge chamber in the royal palace of Asgard. The room bustled with maids, who were preparing everything to get you ready for the wedding ceremony. You nervously fumbled your fingers; constantly tugging at the soft fabric of your wine red dress. Your mother had just left the room along with your father; leaving you and your troubled mind alone.

From the first encounter with Frigga, you could tell that she had a heart of gold. She was so kind and lovely. Perhaps the most good-hearted person you ever met. You got along with your future mother-in-law instantly. She had welcomed you with open arms. And right in that moment, you couldn't picture another way out.

You couldn't deny the anxiety any longer. It hit you full force; realisation dawning on you like the sun... I can't marry a man I never saw in my life.

So, you decided to order a maid to fetch the only person you hoped would be kind enough to help you. Queen Frigga. The Allmother. You and your family had arrived about a week ago and even in that week you never got to see Loki. Only the king and queen. Not the princes.

Frigga gently took your hands in hers and led you over to the bed; sitting down with you. "What is the matter, dear? The fear within you is stronger than your nervousity. I can feel it." You swallowed hard, "I- It's... It's just..." and had to take a deep breath. "I'm afraid of marrying a man I never saw in my life. I-I know that this is not of importance and probably even forbidden, but-" A radiant smile forming on the queen's lips interrupted you. You furrowed your brows; were confused. Even more when she started to chuckle.

Only a few moments passed, before the young maid returned to your chambers; following the queen.

"Y/N, my dear..." She immediately walked up to you. "You called for me?" You just nodded; anxious eyes meeting Frigga's beautiful blue ones. "I-I did. Could we... Could we talk in private?" "Of course!" She reassured you, then clapped her hands twice. "Would you all please leave and give us some privacy?" All the maids stopped in their tasks and immediately rushed to leave your chambers.

"My son requested the exact same. Barely before you called me to your chambers, I sat with Loki and spoke about this with him as well. I guess you are quite similar in that case." She chuckled again and reached for your hand again. You just stared at her; not quite believing what she just said. "I understand you, dear. I couldn't do such a thing either. Back when I had to wed my husband, I demanded to at least see him and share a few sentences with him beforehand as well. It helped me to adapt to the situation I was in. Therefore, I can't deny yours, neither my son's wish." Frigga stood up and offered you her arm. "Come on."

You swallowed hard; feeling your heart beat rapidly against your chest, as you approached the little pavilion.

You blinked; were utterly speechless. You knew Frigga would understand you, but that... That wasn't something you anticipated to happen. Still a bit stunned, you stood up and took her offer. She led you out of your chambers, down several hallways you had never seen before, until you were outside the palace and had reached a beautiful garden. She stopped, nodding towards a small pavilion quite a few meters away, which was surrounded by rose bushes and cherry trees.

"My son is waiting for you in the pavilion." Frigga let go of your arm and gave you a smile. "You have about an hour before the maids will return to get you both ready for the ceremony. Make sure to be back at your chambers by that time." With a wink and a soft pad on your arm, she turned around and left.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Carefully - almost shyly, you peeked around the corner.

A man was standing in the middle of the small pavilion, with his back towards you; hands clasped behind his lower back. You could see that he was wearing a green tunic and black leather boots. Gold accents highlighted his whole outfit.

He had long hair - as black as the feathers of a raven. It fell in soft curls over his shoulders. Your gaze climbed up and down his body. He was tall. Norns, he was so tall - and his hands were big. You could tell. They would swallow yours whole.

"H-Hello?" A dark, smooth and slightly high-pitched voice spoke. "A-Are... Are you Princess Y/N?" You could tell by his voice that he was nervous, too. Probably even afraid - just like you.

You didn't even notice how your mouth fell agape. Or how you made another small step forwards; totally enhanced by the God you saw standing in front of you.

Barely after you set one foot in front of the other, a small twig snapped underneath the weight of your body. You flinched - and the man quickly turned to face you; flinching the slightest bit as well. The gust which was created by Loki's quick spin was sent directly into your direction and no second later, his scent hit you; invaded your nostrils... Leather, something dark and musky, charred wood and a slight hint of mint and something fruity. It smelled so rich, so divine, but also so addictive and cosy. You almost fainted.

You needed a moment to get yourself together. "Y-Yes, I-" Your words faded into a gasp as your eyes met his for the first time ever. He had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen. Blue like water and as deep as the oceans. They held so many emotions. Nervousity and fear, but also curiosity and excitement. But above all kindness - the same kindness which sparkled within his mother's eyes.

Loki smiled and took a few cautious steps towards you. "It is my utmost pleasure to meet you, my princess." He gathered a bit of his bravery and hesitatingly reached for your hand, taking it gently in his. With a soft bow, he bestowed a small kiss upon your knuckles; soft, smooth lips brushing against your cold skin. A shudder rippled through you.

"The- The pleasure is a-all mine, my prince." You more or less stammered out, now utterly distracted by his chiselled facial features. High cheekbones, sharp jawline and a perfectly shaped nose. Norns, you thought. He looks like carved out of marble.

Loki gave you a smile. "Thank you for agreeing to this little... secret meeting. I-I just had to see you before the ceremony, I-" You gave his hand - which still enveloped yours a soft squeeze. "I know. I felt the same way." A nervous chuckle left his lips, followed by an even bigger smile. "That makes this situation so much easier..." You reciprocated his smile. "Indeed, my prince."

You took a seat on the small, cosy bench and decided to use the time you had left to talk and get to know each other at least a little bit, before you'd become husband and wife. It was exactly what you - and Loki needed. But especially, it calmed your fears of marrying a brute, despiteful man. They had been wrong... Oh so wrong. Loki was not like that. He was like you hoped he'd be. Kind, gentlemanly, sweet - and utterly romantic. His heart may be battered and bruised, but you could feel that this man would do everything to be a good, loving husband for you.

The hour flew by way too fast; within the blink of an eye and soon it was time to part ways - for now.

"Thank you, my pri-" "Loki. Please... It's Loki for you." That made you blush even more - if that was even possible. "Thank you, Loki." You smiled. "I can't believe I'm going to be wed to such a handsome, polite and sweet man either."

"Again... Thank you for agreeing to this." Loki said; voice soft. You shook your head. "No need to thank me. I wanted this, too, you know..."

Silence settled over the both of you, until he let out a soft, breathy chuckle. "I can't believe I'm marrying such a beautiful, kind-hearted woman in barely a few hours." You blushed in the darkest shades of crimson at his words; suppressing a girlish giggle to slip past your lips.

That caused Loki to blush.

A nervous chuckle bubbled from deep within his chest. "Thank you-" "Y/N." You interrupted him. "Y/N." The way he rolled his name off your tongue almost send you into another dimension - you were sure of it.

His words hit you straight into your heart. You could swear it was aflame by now, burning for this man you knew so little, but were going to wed in a few hours.

"Are you still nervous?" Loki asked then; eyes soft. You nodded. "Y-Yes, I- I'm afraid it's going to get worse..." You giggled nervously; desperately trying to play it cool, but failing.

He took your hand in his again; gently caressing the back of your hand with his thumb. "I know this is normal. I-I am nervous, too, but... Please don't worry. You are not alone in this. I'll be there - and I won't ever let go of you."

You took deep breaths; smiling brightly. Now you could say that you were really looking forward towards your wedding. For the first time in centuries.

"T-Thank you. That is really reassuring to know. I-I won't let go either." Loki smiled, "That's good to know, my darling." and leaned in for a delicate, small peck on your lips. It was gentle and barely lasting - but it felt so right. So good.

Before you were able to answer something, his hand slipped from yours as he was passing you by; stepping out of the pavilion and out of your sight.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart." Your mother said with tears in her eyes. She placed her pointer finger underneath your chin. "It's time for you to enter the next chapter of your life. A lot is going to change, I know - but your whole life was spent preparing you for exactly that moment. You're a strong woman, Y/N. Never doubt that. And Loki is going to be a wonderful husband. He's the perfect match."

By now, you had to fight off the tears as well.

Your mother leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. "I'm so proud of you, just like your father. I love you." You smiled; swallowing hard to get rid of the lump in your throat. "Thank you, mama. I love you, too." She gave you a loving, motherly smile and left to sit with the other wedding attendants.

You took a deep breath and with the sounds of the fanfare, you stepped through the golden doors and slowly walked down the red carpet towards Loki - who stood at the altar; dressed in his ceremonial armour, waiting for your arrival.

All eyes were on you, but you only had eyes for your prince.

When his eyes landed on you, they widened immediately; his mouth falling agape. He watched how your wedding dress swayed softly with each step you took.

She looks absolutely beautiful, he thought; feeling his heart beating rapidly against his chest.

It was all you needed in that moment.

You walked slowly, gracefully - like you've been taught. It felt like an eternity, until you finally reached him.

Loki immediately stretched out his hands for you to lay yours in his - and you did. The moment you touched, it felt like you could finally breathe normal again. His skin was so soft and warm; giving you the feeling of warmth and comfort. For you, his touch was a safe haven. He was anchoring you; preventing you to get lost in the sea of no-man's-land.

You looked up. His endless blue eyes met yours for the second time - and time seems to stand still around you. In that moment, it was only you and him.

You smiled and finally weren’t afraid anymore of the future. Not if it involved the man right in front of you.

[joyful-enchantress]

Jól Never Be Alone | Loki x Fem!Reader

banner created by the amazing @springdandelixn

A/N: Hello! Enjoy this festive oneshot that I wrote as a gift for @smolvenger for this Secret Santa event facilitated by @fictive-sl0th. I took inspiration from a request submitted by @smolvenger and also from the Old Norse jól (pronounced yule), a midwinter festival which celebrated the passing of the longest days of winter, and fertility in the coming year. Happy Holidays!

Genre/Warnings: Arranged marriage, mild angst in the beginning (with a happy ending, I promise!), hurt/comfort, fluff, thirst, pining, smutty thoughts, language

Word Count: 3k

Three damn days.

That’s it. That’s all the time you had to pull yourself together.

To clean up the mess that you’d become these past weeks and be what the people of Asgard expected you to be. Needed you to be.

The shining star of the upcoming jól feast. You were to be the gem of the midwinter celebration as their newest princess.

That is, after all, what you were. You were married into the Asgardian royal family just over a month ago, joined in holy matrimony with Odin’s youngest son. The dark prince. Loki. A man — no, a god — that, for centuries now, had maidens everywhere falling over themselves just for the chance to spend a night warming his bed. How lucky you were to be his wife, right?

Though it wasn’t exactly a love match. Your marriage had been arranged by those that claimed more of a say in your lives than either of you did. Loki’s father and your own had devised a scheme — years in the making — in which you’d become Loki’s wife to strengthen the alliance between Asgard and your home realm, Vanaheim.

Yes, unfortunately, your love story felt less like a romance and more like a political drama.

It certainly didn't help that Loki has been cold and distant since the betrothal. He was always keeping to his own side of your shared living quarters, the physical walls between you serving as a constant reminder of the figurative one that loomed —towering and unsurmountable — between you. Short, clipped greetings are all that fell from his lips to welcome or acknowledge you when your paths did cross. Roommates with fancy titles... that's all you were. The dark, handsome prince, your husband, was never disrespectful — far from it, actually — but he never showed any true interest in you beyond what has been required during public appearances.

You couldn't blame him, not really. This couldn't possibly be what he had hoped for, when he would daydream about his own future. Trapped in a loveless marriage with you, likely feeling like little more than a pawn in his father's political chess games. No, it was no wonder why he kept his distance as much as the nature of your entanglement allowed.

There was a time, not so long ago, when you had allowed yourself to dream of a future where you sat beside Loki, as his wife. But not this way. Not like this.

Since childhood, you'd had a crush on the younger prince. Once you were old enough to accompany your father on his delegations to Asgard, where he'd speak on behalf of the Vanir at the council meetings, he was sure to bring you along. In hindsight, you realized, he only brought you with him so that you could become acquainted with Asgard before he secured your place there, within the royal court. But oh, how you looked forward to those trips! And a certain mischievous god was to blame...

Loki caught your eye the very first time you met him. How could he not? With those sharp cheekbones and chiseled jaw that you swore were sharp enough to slice through your dignity. The silky curtains of raven curls that framed his stupidly handsome face, always looking absolutely perfect, no matter how unkempt and mussed they were. Then there were his eyes, glistening like two polished emeralds against the alabaster planes of his face. You had frequently wondered what it might be like to lock eyes with him during the throes of a passionate night of lovemaking... meeting his gaze as you're writhing in the sheets underneath his lean, sculpted body, appreciating the length of him — of his neck, his limbs, his cock as he buries himself inside you.

Perhaps it was foolish, but you spent those years pining for him from afar, dreaming of what could possibly be someday. Sure, you spent time with him during your visits, enjoying strolls together through the gardens or his personal library, sharing details of your lives and bonding over your joint love of books. He definitely wasn't a stranger to you. In fact, you’d say you knew him well. But you never made your romantic feelings for him known; you never hinted at the desire that scorched through your veins like an untamed fire every time he was near.

You'd tell him someday, you'd tell yourself. You would tell Loki your feelings and with any luck he'd be yours... and it was that thought, that hope, that fueled your daydreams and pushed you through until your next visit to Asgard.

But before you ever got the chance to share the true nature of your feelings with Loki, you were both called into the throne room where your fathers informed you of the arrangements that had been made. You were to be married. In three fortnights.

And your dreams of a fairytale romance with the handsome prince were thwarted in an instant. You wanted him, but not like this. You wanted something real... you wanted Loki to want you.

Now you were homesick and, during a time when you should be feeling surrounded by love and holiday cheer, you had never felt more alone.

Jól was in three days. And the midwinter festival was supposed to be magnificent — a giant feast honoring the gods Odin and Freyr and celebrating a hope for peace, sunshine, and fertility in the coming year. Your place of honor at the celebrations was especially anticipated, not only because you were Asgard's newest princess, but because you were from Vanaheim — you were Vanir, same as Freyr. And, you were one of his descendants; his granddaughter, in fact. Yes — Loki was Odin’s son and you were Freyr’s granddaughter. Your union was a jóltide dream. The people of Asgard were abuzz with excitement, chattering about how special this year’s festivities would be… thanks to you.

You and Loki had been seen in public before, of course. You had endured your wedding and the celebrations that followed and managed fairly well. But that was a formal affair; beyond a few pecks on the lips throughout the day's festivities, you could go through the motions with little more than the occasional formal dance required, as far as physical contact.

The expectations at the jól festival were entirely different. It was to be a wild and sensual affair, with you and Loki performing a dance as the centerpiece of the fertility celebrations. This dance... the sensuality was not something that could easily be fabricated. You couldn't just go through the motions. The two of you would be chest to chest, eyes locked in a passionate stare, hands roaming and exploring each other's bodies. Your performance was meant to inspire not only yourselves, but all in attendance to go forth from the feast and be fruitful.

The thought twisted your stomach in knots and made your heart ache. How were you supposed to make it convincing? And if you did give in to the burning desire you had for Loki to put on the show that the people of Asgard were expecting, how were you supposed to protect your heart? Knowing that it wasn't the same for Loki; it wasn't real for him, too...

You had been training for this dance with an instructor for two weeks now, learning the basic steps. Having grown up in the royal court here, Loki was already familiar with the dance, so he didn't require the same training. But now it was time for rehearsals to begin. With only three days until the festival, you had to practice the dance with your actual performance partner... with Loki. You had to get a feel for each other during the dance; see where it felt natural to add in those caresses of your nose on his cheek, his fans of hot breath on your neck, the wandering touches on each other's bodies that linger just a whisper too long...

And your first rehearsal was in two hours.

You needed to get some air.

As you step outside, the frigid air engulfs you and steals your breath away. It’s a welcome feeling — a cleansing feeling. And it’s exactly what you need to clear your head and collect yourself before this dreaded rehearsal. You make a beeline for the palace gardens without much of a thought, your usual walking route essentially muscle memory at this point.

Your footsteps were nearly silent on the fresh-fallen snow that blanketed the path beneath your feet as you strolled throughout the garden, admiring the pops of color provided by the hardy winter flowers and berries that were currently growing there. As you approached the crocuses, you stopped to appreciate their bright purple blooms and the way the snow clung to the delicate petals.

Despite the harshness of the current environment, the flowers were thriving, refusing to let the cold and the ice dampen their beauty and light. A single tear rolled down your cheek as you resolved to do the same. You wouldn’t let your situation dampen your own light any longer.

“Darling…?” A familiar voice sounded from just behind you, seemingly out of nowhere. The snow must have muffled the sound of Loki’s approach.

What was he doing here?

“Oh, hello, Loki! You startled me; I didn’t expect to run into you out here.”

You quickly made to wipe the tear from your cheek as you turned to face him, but you weren’t quite fast enough; nothing got past Loki’s sharp gaze.

“So sorry to alarm you, I just came to the garden for some calm and quiet. The bustling in the palace as everyone prepares for the festival can get overwhelming.” He paused for just a moment, his brow creasing ever so slightly as if considering whether to continue before asking, “Is there anything troubling you, Y/N?”

Yes. So many things, you have no idea.

“I’m alright, Loki. I… I think the frigid air is just making my eyes water.” You managed a weak smile as you lied to your husband.

His eyes softened at your words; they beheld more warmth than you’d seen from him since before your forced betrothal.

“You know, Y/N… I know this hasn’t been easy. On either of us. But it doesn’t have to be this way between us forever. You don’t have to hide your feelings from me just because you don’t… just because we’re not…”

He struggled to find the right words to finish the sentence, but the implication was a shard of ice to your heart.

“What I’m trying to say is that you can talk to me. Ours may not be a marriage of love, but it still is a partnership. I can tell that something is wrong, that something has been wrong since our fathers broke the news of our arrangement to us. It was like, at that very moment, the light inside you was snuffed out. The woman that walked out of the throne room that day was not the same woman that entered. You’ve been a shell of yourself ever since you learned that you’d been sentenced to spend your life with me. And I’ve tried to give you space… to give you time. I didn’t want to pressure you, or suffocate you, so I’ve kept my distance. Waiting for you to be ready to speak to me again; perhaps even to spend time together again, enjoying our shared interests. But it has been more than 10 weeks now and I don’t think I can wait any longer, darling. Talk to me, please. I… I miss what we were before that day in the throne room.”

You blinked at him, flabbergasted. At a loss for words.

Set aside the sheer wonder of the sight before you: the tall frame, hung with lean muscles that strained against the fabric of the emerald tunic he was wearing. A note of gratitude crossed your mind that his Jotun ancestry allowed him to forgo any bulky outerwear to protect him from the elements, so you could enjoy this view, unobstructed. Even the way the snow clung to his dark, luscious locks and reflected the garden lights like a glittering crown had him looking every bit the winter king.

This man — this god — missed you. He mistook your heartbreak for… disgust.

As if you could ever find any part of him disgusting.

“Loki, I…” Your eyes darted frantically, looking everywhere but at him. Searching the winter blooms, the snow-covered tree branches, the festive garden decorations for a sign… for a whisper of encouragement. A murmur of reassurance. Was this it? Was this your moment?

When you finally met his gaze again, you saw nothing there but patience. Kindness. But also… longing?

“I love you.” You blurted it out, pushing the words from your lips before you could change your mind.

Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears; you actually said it. Nervousness enveloped your body like fresh steam, causing you to sweat despite the cold temperature.

“You…what?”

To say he was taken aback would be an understatement. It was clearly the last thing he expected you to say.

“I love you, Loki. I have for a while now.”

“Then why —?”

“Because I was heartbroken. Shattered. You’re right, Loki, the light inside me was snuffed out that day. Extinguished in an instant. But not because I was appalled or disgusted at the thought of spending forever with you. On the contrary, I had been dreaming of that very notion for years…”

You saw his eyes widen and his breath hitch before you continued.

“The light went out because I lost the hope that carried me forward; I never got to tell you how I truly felt about you — how much I cared about you…how much I wanted you.”

His eyes darkened almost imperceptibly at hearing you confess your desire for him.

You swallowed your own budding lust and pushed forward. “And so the delicate and, perhaps, foolish hope that we might have something real someday crumbled. Then, when I saw how much you withdrew from me, I… I was sure you had no interest in me. And that broke my heart even further, Loki, to know that you didn’t feel the same way about me and yet, we were trapped together in this marriage. I’ve never felt more alone than I have these past 10 weeks.”

“Darling…” he sighed as he closed the distance between you, reaching out his fingertips to softly caress the side of your face before brushing them under your chin and tilting your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze.

The small gesture stole your breath away. It was the first physical contact you had with Loki since the wedding, and certainly more intimate than any touches you had ever shared. This wasn’t a public appearance; there was no audience. There was only him. And you. And the hammering of your heart.

“It appears that we have both been foolish.” A smile slowly crept across his lips as he muttered, “a pair of hopeless, lovesick fools.”

By now the smile had wholly taken root and a full grin had bloomed on his face, casting a light there that you hadn’t seen in months.

Oh, how you missed that smile.

“Loki…” you gasped. “Are — are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I love you too, wife.”

You couldn’t think straight. You could barely breathe. You had to be dreaming.

Loki could tell that words were beyond you, so he just continued.

“I’ve adored you for years, Y/N. Admired you in secret like an adolescent with an unattainable crush. Because that’s what you were to me: unattainable.”

“Loki, you’re a prince, a literal god… you’ve had a horde of maidens throwing themselves at you for as long as I’ve known you. If one of us was unattainable, it was you.”

“They were only ever interested in my body, in my array of talents between the sheets.”

A warm flood of arousal washed over you, hearing him talk so casually about his own sexual prowess.

“But you, darling… you saw me. You showed interest in my mind, my ideas, my company. You asked me thoughtful questions and you actually listened when I would answer them. I was so convinced that I didn’t deserve someone like that. Someone like you. And so I kept my feelings hidden.”

“Well…” you began with a shy smirk, “I am interested in your body and your carnal talents too, you know.”

“And I don’t know if there’s anything that could delight me more than learning that about you tonight,” he said with a mischievous smile and lust-darkened eyes that lingered on your lips before darting back to your own hooded gaze.

“Kiss me, Loki, please…” you breathed.

Without hesitation, he leaned down toward you, brushing his lips against your own. Featherlight at first, but soon growing more assured and confident, claiming your lips as his. And you were more than willing to let him stake his claim.

When he finally broke the kiss, you opened your eyes to see him staring down at you reverently.

“I love you, my darling wife. And as long as my heart is beating, I promise you’ll never be alone; you’ll never feel alone again. Perhaps things in our relationship have occurred… somewhat out of the preferred order, but by some generous twist of the fates, we’ve been thrust into each other’s arms and allowed to spend the rest of our lives with our one true love.”

Your heart swelled as you stared up at him. You felt that light within you reignite, shining brighter than it ever had.

“I love you too, husband. With my whole heart.”

He bent down and claimed your mouth once again, his tongue sliding against your lips, which you happily parted to allow him entry. All of the love and desire that you’d both been harboring all these years was finally unleashed and it was conveyed in the intensity of your kiss, and in the way his hands now began to explore your body. At least, as best as they could, over the coat you were wearing.

Suddenly, you found yourself looking forward to rehearsal.

And to the jól festival.

And to the rest of your life with Loki.

Below is the request I received from @smolvenger - I hope I did it justice, my lovely! Happiest Holidays! 🎄

Secret Santa 2023 Taglist 🏷️ @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

[holylulusworld]

Unworthy (2)

Summary: Thor doesn’t think you‘re a good friend to his brother.

Pairing: AU!Thor Odinson x fem!Reader, AU!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader (platonic/best friends)

Warnings: past addiction, mentions of drug abuse/addiction (Loki), angst, classism, Thor being an ass, BBF trope, mentions of spiked drinks

Catch up here: Unworthy (1)

Unworthy masterlist

“Stop her then, son. If she told you the truth, we should find out more about what happened,” Odin feels like he just threw his daughter out of his house. “I shouldn’t have listened to you. Why did I not double-check your information.”

“Husband, not now,” Frigga places her hand on Odin’s shoulder. “Do not make another mistake. Maybe she is innocent, but we need to investigate further first. Thor, follow her. She’s the best source of information.”

“Right,” Thor huffs but turns to follow you. “I’m not sure she told me the truth. Some people have the ability to sell you any lie.”

Thor walks away to follow you. He easily catches up on you with his long legs and determined steps. “Wait—” He calls your name. It’s more an order than a request.

You move toward the exit, ignoring Thor walks next to you. “I said wait.”

“What else do you want to accuse me of?” You stop for a moment to glare up at Thor. “Maybe I sold drugs to Loki, huh? Maybe I was the one getting him addicted. Just leave me alone, Odinson.”

“If the guy spiked your drink there should be a police report…right?” He cocks a brow. Thor is not as good as his father at reading people, but he can see the fear in your eyes when the memories of that night come back.

“My friend called the cops after bringing me to the hospital. I gave a statement, and they promised me that he wouldn’t get away with what he did to me. I believed them,” you laugh bitterly.

“What happened?” He steps closer to tower over you. Thor is intimidating, with his sheer size and figure dwarfing you, but you won’t cower in front of him.

“What always happens,” you shrug and try to balance the box in your hands at the same time. “He came from a good family with old money. My words against his. I was the outsider allowed to walk their holy halls because of a scholarship.”

“That’s awful,” Thor sucks in a breath. If what you’re telling him is true, he understands that you always despised him, the golden son having it all. He never had to work for anything.

“It didn’t matter that my friend, the doctor, and the nurse gave a statement too. They tried to pressure me into taking my statement back, but I refused,” you sniff, and look away. “I didn’t matter, though. He got away with it because his parents knew the right people. Suddenly my test results were gone, and the guests at the party didn’t remember shit. I was lucky to not lose my scholarship. If we are done here, I’d love to leave this shitty place.”

Thor doesn’t stop you when you walk away from him. He has a lot of information to stomach. Thor hopes you’re just a good liar, and he was right about you. But he has a hunch that every word you said was true.

“That’s all, huh?” Hela looks up from her laptop to glare at Thor. He thumbs through the papers and pictures on Hela’s desk. “You didn’t find more?” He asks.

“Stop nagging,” she snaps at him. “You should thank me instead of moping. I got the statement from her friend and the doctor. The nurse withdrew her statement right after she bought a brand-new car.”

“Sounds fishy,” Hogun grumbles. It wasn’t in his plans to sneak around your apartment and follow you around town. “I don’t think the sweet girl is a criminal mastermind. All she did was to buy groceries and look for a new job.”

“Hey, it’s still my turn,” Hela glares at Hogun. “We wanted to talk about her past before we get to the present and future. A shame I didn’t get the chance to interrogate her.” She smirks at her brother. “I bet the sweet girl would’ve been putty in my hands.”

Thor curls his upper lip. “What did you find out?”

Hela leans back in her chair and crosses one leg over the other. She takes her time to inform her brother.

“I found more questions than answers. But I can tell you that the guy spiking Y/N’s drink is a piece of shit. Over the years his parents tried to cover all the shit he pulled. Luckily, they did not succeed. He crossed one too many lines and they turned their back on him.”

“Interesting,” Thor grabs one of the pictures taken at the hospital. You look scared and his heart hurts seeing the tears run down your cheeks. “Anything else?”

“No well done from you?” She huffs. “Always the same with you and father.” Hela snaps at her brother. “I tried to talk to his parents, but they refused to talk about the incident with Y/N. If you ask me, their son did exactly what Y/N said.”

“Says who…?” Thor questions. He’s still not convinced that you told him the truth and that you are innocent. If so, he’d be the worst person ever for ruining your career and friendship with his brother.

“How is he? Where is he?” You pant heavily as you try to find Loki. “Duke, where is he?” You ask Loki’s sponsor. “Duke!”

“He’s in a bad condition,” Duke’s features soften at your worried look. You’re out of your mind because Loki’s AA sponsor called you in the middle of the night. What if Loki is relapsed or is injured?

“Did he have a relapse?” You clasp your hands together to silently pray Loki didn’t do anything stupid because of what happened. “Duke?”

“No,” Duke shakes his head. “He needs you. Loki asked for you the whole time. I didn’t want to call you, but he wouldn’t stop. He’s vulnerable, Y/N.”

“I need to see him.”

“Loki’s inside my office,” Duke gently pats your shoulder. “Take all your time, Y/N. If you need a ride home, I’ll drive you.”

“Loki?” You walk inside the office, heart lurching in your chest. Loki sits on the ground. His long legs stretched out, and his head hanging. “Darling?”

“Y/N,” he murmurs but doesn’t look at you. Loki believed you gave up on him. Thor, his father, and Frigga didn’t tell him the whole truth. When one of your co-workers told him that you got fired and showed him the pictures Loki knew, Thor did this to you to get you out of his life.

“Hey, beautiful,” you sit down next to Loki and wrap one arm around his shoulders. “How’s my pretty boy tonight?”

“Not good,” he leans his head against your shoulder and sighs. “I almost fucked up again, Y/N. I was bad tonight. I…I…” he sniffles and wrings his hands. “I almost bought the poison.”

“Did you buy it?”

“No.”

“Good. See, you’re stronger than you thought,” you peck his hair. “I knew you could do it, Loki.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your job and my brother?” He murmurs. “I could’ve helped you.”

“Your brother is an asshole, you know that” you try to cheer Loki up while your world still lies in ruins. “He tried to find something to hold against me and succeed. It’s not the end of the world to lose a job, darling. I’ll find something soon.”

“Hmmm…” Loki thoughtfully hums. “Maybe I can lend you some money.”

“I got spared money, Loki. I’m not your friend because of your money, darling.”

“You are my friend because of my good looks, right?” Relieved that you are not angry at him for the things his family did, Loki sighs.

“I’m your friend because I love you, darling,” you pat his thigh. For a moment you are both silent. “So, you came here for a meeting?”

“Three,” he says. “I’m sorry Duke had to call you.”

“I told you a long time ago that you can always call me, Loki. Day or night,” you softly say. “Did you eat today, darling?”

His growling stomach answers your question. “Not much,” Loki admits. “I wasn’t in the mood for food.”

“That was the most awful rhyme I ever heard,” you laugh. “Come on, darling. I’ll take you home and we can eat my leftovers.”

“You want to take me home?” He purrs. “You can’t wait to get your hands on me, huh? I bet you waited for me to call.”

“You’re a little bitch, Loki Laufeyson.”

“I love you too, Y/N…”

You watch Loki’s chest rise and fall. Still worried about your friend you didn’t leave his side.

Finally at peace after hours of suffering and self-hatred, he sleeps peacefully on your bed.

He greedily stuffed your leftovers into his mouth and even burped because you wanted him to eat dessert too.   

You talked for half the night, assuring him that his father and brother can do whatever they want to. You will stand by Loki’s side. Whether they like it or not.

“If you don’t stop yelling at me I’ll hang up,” you snarl into the phone. “I only called to tell you that Loki is safe and didn’t have a relapse. He’s asleep and I’ll drive him home after he had breakfast.”

Thor yells into the phone. He throws profanities at you while his sister watches him with amusement. She chuckles and listens to your explanation. “Thor, calm down. She took good care of him.”

“You don’t have a say in this,” Thor grunts. “She gets fired and then…” He growls and grunts while you listen to his rant.

“Are you done?” You ask. “I’m going to hang up now. I don’t want to wake Loki. He needs his sleep after everything he’s gone through last night. If you need to know more, ask his sponsor who called me, knowing I’ll be the one getting Loki out of the hole he fell into once again.”

You hang up, already regretting that you called Loki’s family. All you wanted to do was make sure they won't worry all night because he didn’t come home.

You harrumph and walk back inside your living room to switch through the channels. Sleep is out of the question after the call. Thor once again made you furious, and you hate the feeling.

Next time he dares to show his face, you’ll knee his balls and give him a piece of your mind…

Part 3

Tags in reblog.

[muddyorbsblr]

relinquish the crown: under one condition pt1

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: Season 1, Episode 14; immediately after 'what could be done'

Summary: With Prince Damien's proposal looming over like a dark omen, Loki rushes to do what must be done to save you from a life of misery in Alfheim

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: themes of incest (he's adopted but still); Odin

Things to be aware of: stressed Loki hours; this is basically 'terms of surrender' (Prologue, Part 1) in Loki's POV

There were too many emotions, too many thoughts, coursing through Loki's entire system right at this moment.

Anger. Over how seemingly excited Odin sounded over the idea of finally getting to enact the bloody tradition that he'd agreed to, so that his own father, the former Allfather Bor, would approve of his marriage to Frigga. To determine his 'rightful' heir meant to have all eligible individuals engage in a battle. Where it could only end with death or surrender.

A somber acceptance, that if he were not here right at this moment, making known the decision that would change the very course of not just his life, but yours as well? Had he not just announced that he wished to relinquish his claim to the throne? If he were to engage in the barbaric tradition, then he would have to come to terms with the knowledge that that duel with his brother would be the day he met his demise. And he would leave you behind, vulnerable to any lecherous suitor that might win Odin's favor and approval for your hand.

Fear of what could and would happen had that duel come to fruition.

But overpowering them all by a wide margin…fear of what was to come next. Out of this conversation. Out of his surrender and his terms for it.

The god would leave this room with everyone in his life, including you, thinking differently of him than when he entered. They would all know, you would know, of the affection that he'd been harboring for you for well over a decade, ever since that first encounter within the palace halls where you put your dagger to his throat.

Norns, she might very well do it again after today, he thought to himself. And you would very well be in your right to after your mind completes a lecherous image and all your memories with Loki would be painted with a starkly different brush. He was quite certain that earlier today, in the library, had been the last time he would ever hear you utter the words "I love you" towards him. Now that you knew the true weight of the sentiment when it came from him.

And still he knew, with every fiber of his being, that the only right thing for him to do was to stay this course. Even if it meant shattering what relationship he had with you in the process, even if it meant you resenting him for making you his wife. For it meant that at least you would be able to resent him in the safety of your home. It meant you would be free to live your life the way you saw fit.

He could be content with this reality. And he would simply love you enough for the both of you.

"My son, I beg your pardon?" Odin spoke, visibly perturbed at the words he'd just heard the god of mischief utter, brows knitting together and the wrinkles on his forehead becoming more prominent with the action.

"There will be no need for a ceremony to determine your heir, Father," Loki repeated, speaking slower than he did when he entered the war room. He had no intentions to be misunderstood from speaking in a rush. Not in a moment as crucial as this. "Because I choose to surrender my claim to the throne. I relinquish my status as an eligible heir."

"Brother, are you certain of your decision?"

He looked at Thor from across the table, a mixture of concern and relief coloring the blond god's expression. For as long as they had known each other, Thor had always known him to be calculating and careful even when his actions seemed far from it. Even when others believed him to be impulsive. And this particular move, to an untrained eye, would seem like the rash thing to do in such a situation. To commit an irreversible action in the name of avoiding the showdown that would yield even more permanent and irreversible consequences.

And much as Loki would often jokingly refer to his brother as an 'oaf', he had his moments. This seemed well on its way to becoming one of them, with the just slightly elder god undoubtedly coming to the realization that no…Loki did not impulsively come to this decision just moments ago. He knew exactly what he was giving up and he was determined to stay this course regardless. His question of whether he was certain was simply to avoid misconstruction from any parties.

Loki simply nodded at his brother slowly, already dreading the next few moments as he would begin to be questioned of his motivations.

The Allfather spoke next. "Loki, this is not a decision to be made lightly. You cannot rescind your offer once I have accepted it. Do you understand, my son?"

He tried to picture another way to somehow liberate you from your inevitable betrothal to the wretched elven prince of Alfheim. One that didn't involve him potentially shattering your perception of him irreparably. Short of helping you outright flee the realm to escape Damien, there truly was nothing. And even if somehow you succeeded in fleeing, there was the risk of you being charged with treason for betraying or neglecting your duties to the Realm.

His mother was right. This was the only way.

"I understand perfectly, Father," he answered, taking every ounce of his strength to not allow his tone to waver or tremble as he spoke. "I will hereby relinquish my claim to the throne of Asgard." The raven-haired god clenched his fist under the table, his nail digging in to the skin of his palm as he took a deep breath before uttering the words that would seal his fate. The ones that would turn him into the lech that he'd been rumored to be for eons. "If my terms are accepted."

The next words that Thor spoke worsened at the constricting of his heart. Made even harsher with his relieved and jovial tone. "I will agree to whatever terms you state, Brother, if it means I do not have to face losing you in battle," he stated, so quickly it was as if the words were racing to come out of his mouth. "Name your terms.

You will regret your words in a few short moments, Brother. I swear it. I can only hope you can try to see from where my intentions truly lay, Loki thought to himself. It didn't take long for him to launch into the speech he prepared to present his case, bracing himself for the incoming derision. The seething judgment. The hatred.

"I wish to return our family's reign to its former glory. I've traversed the Nine Realms and the consensus is definite: They think our power weak ever since Father rose to the throne. At least those generations that had been around to witness its former glory for themselves. The people not only feared us, but they respected us." He turned to face Odin, a mixture of concern and displeasure evident in the elder god's eye. "Now they question your leadership since you were so willing to break an age old practice. They question my claim as legitimate due to my Jotun blood. I wish to dispel any qualms about future generations."

"Loki," his father spoke, caution rife in his voice. As if he were warning him to choose his next words very carefully. "What are you implying?"

Is it not obvious, Father? All these centuries of believing me capable of such mischief and depravity and you choose this moment to feign ignorance? To strive to see me as anything more than the title you thrust upon me? he thought to himself sardonically. Very well then, if you must insist on keeping to this facade, then you've left me with no other choice than to lean in. Become the depraved lech you allowed the Realms to believe that I am.

"Surely you do not mean to say that--"

"Y/N," he cut his father off, digging his nail further into the palm of his hand as he darted a glance at his brother and saw the utter  heartbreak and betrayal in his expression. Keep going, the rational, calculating voice in his head urged him. They may all despise you at the end of this, but remember what you are doing this for. Remember who you are doing this for. For her. For your fated. Keep her safe. No matter the cost. "Wed her to me, so that we may restore our family's reign's integrity and show the people that we know when to break, and when to keep, tradition. That we have the wisdom to do so."

"Brother there was a reason for that tradition to be abolished. So that Father and future generations may choose who to wed out of love." Thor's response tore at him further, forcing the god to fight back tears as he held on tight to the secret that he'd held for years. Wanting nothing more than to hold back the very words he swore to himself he would never utter aloud in the presence of anyone.

"Isn't that exactly what I'm doing?" He couldn't look at anyone in the eye. So he chose to instead look past them, focusing on the wall to keep his expression as invariable as he could manage. "I am choosing who to wed…out of love?" He took another breath, now looking his brother straight in the eye and feeling his heart sink at the blazing rage he saw in the now icy blue orbs, his fists laid on the table as his entire body shook from processing the words. "You said to name my terms. That no price is too steep," Loki kept on, holding on to hope that somehow this plan of his and his mother's would succeed and at the very least burning this bridge would not have been for nothing.

If this is the price for your safety, little Princess, then it is a price I will readily pay.

"I will relinquish my claim to ascend Father's throne after he passes, in exchange for Y/N as my wife," he finished, praying to the Norns that he would hear anything other than a resounding 'no' from either god.

"So that you may ascend the throne with her and become King when I die?" Thor fumed, visibly looking as if it took all his strength not to lunge across the table and strangle his brother with his bare hands.

You both would wish it could be this simple, wouldn't you? Loki mulled over silently. Somberly. If only it were.

"I will not be King," he declared, more than ready to put his words into writing if need be. "I will be her consort. She will rule when you pass, unchallenged and with my unconditional support. As her husband."

Thor took a moment to carefully look at his brother's features and right then there was a glimmer of an epiphany in his rageful eyes. Finally you see it, Brother. I would not have jeopardized my life and my relationship with all of you so flippantly. This is not for power or cowardice or lust. This is just as I have said in its purest form. This is relinquishment. This is surrender. This is sacrifice.

"I did not want to lose you in battle, Brother. And I still do not wish to." Loki could finally breathe a touch easier knowing that, at least for now, his brother still wished to see him live. "But Y/N will not understand any of this. That this was once our ancestry's tradition."

He felt a soft smile gracing his face, his mind wandering to fonder memories with you as he said his next words. "She's more brilliant than you give her credit for, dear Brother." It truly took him by surprise that he'd been allowed to present his case for this long, and he cautiously took that as a sign that perhaps this plan truly could work. That his claim to the throne was enough to trade for your hand. In the name of your safety. One last push. Just to finish your case, he told himself. "She's quite intelligent. I can guarantee you that our children will be a beautiful mix of your strength, Sif's ferocity, and our combined wits and wisdom. You've said it many times before: No man will ever be good enough for her, and you've also said that I am the best man you know in all the Nine Realms, I--" His breath caught as he uttered his next confession. "I am not good enough for Y/N, on that we can both agree. But wouldn't you also agree that among all the men in the Realms, I'll come closest?"

The next few moments had Loki's heart thundering in his chest. First Odin gave Thor a single nod, as if telling him that ultimately this decision was to now fall in the thunder god's hands. He would defer the decision to your father. And then he saw the thoughts beginning to form in his brother's mind.

How he knew in his heart that your current suitor would have no qualms or concern about your happiness, and would most likely tear you away from the Realm to isolate you from those that loved you most. How Prince Damien would swear no form of fealty or fidelity to you and how this courtship was simply a play for the power that many coveted across the Realms.

And how despite the way it churned his stomach, the thought of being the one to sign away your privilege to marry for love, at least he would do it knowing that it would be to betroth you to someone that had historically cared for you when you yourself would forget to. Someone that came close to bridling your recklessness when he chose not to match it. Someone that did his best to cater to your needs.

Someone that would move the Realms themselves if that was what she asked of me, he swore to himself.

Finally he heard it. His brother's sigh as he weighed the options and made the decision that would set into motion the shattering of your relationship with not just him, but with quite possibly every person in this room.

"Fetch Lady Y/N," he told the guard. "Fetch my daughter."

A/N: Well I can't believe it…we're finally here. I finally got this series to get back to where it started…at Loki's surrender. I decided to split this into two parts since the chapter as a whole was nearly 6k words long, so the other half of 'under one condition' will be coming this weekend 🎉🎉

On the writing block at the moment is a chapter from 'one look and they'll know', so there's also that to look forward to, and then after that (hopefully) I'm finally starting 'back to you' after idek how long I've been teasing that one.

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @lokidokieokie

@superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist @alexakeyloveloki @lulubelle814

[writerdarlin]

𝘈𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤 - loki laufeyson

A/N: This is one that's been in the drafts forever and I finally came around to finish it since I have this writer's spark at the moment so enjoy.

Summary: The mischief king reunites with the one being in his life who understood him growing up, the one being who loved him for him and all his flaws, and the one being he thought he would spend the rest of his centuries with. You. Now that you were in front of him, would he walk away like he did all those years ago or would he finally run into your arms? He could not decide or at least he did not have the option to when chaos started crashing all around.

Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

Warnings: Angst - Mentions of death and wounds.

The battle was relentless.

For a split second, your eyes met his across the chaos of the war-torn refugee ship, and in that brief moment, you saw something—a flicker of what used to be. Loki was barely holding on, his body betraying him with each staggered breath. He was trying to fight through the exhaustion, his mind still sharp, but you could see it. He was struggling. And so were you.

It had only been ten minutes since your last fight alongside him, his brother Thor, a Valkyrie, and a green, scrappy beast who had turned out to be a scientist from Midgard. That battle had been brutal enough, but now, this surprise assault from Thanos—the Titan who had once manipulated Loki for his own gain—was enough to shatter any hope of escape.

Loki. Your love. Or, perhaps, your ex-love.

The memories rushed in—your first meeting with Loki, when he had dared to challenge everything you knew, pulling you into his web of intrigue and chaos. You remembered the highs, the laughter, the times he’d made you feel like the world was yours to conquer. You remembered the trust, the intimacy. And you remembered the day everything fell apart. You had been the soldier. He had been the conqueror. When he betrayed Midgard, it was you who stood against him, the soldier bound by duty, not love.

You had watched from a distance as Heimdall updated you on Loki’s movements. You had witnessed the day he was dragged to Asgard’s prison by Thor, shackled and broken, just as he had broken you when he turned his back on everything—on you. That was the day he was lost to you.

Now, years later, you were standing on a burning, shattered ship—the last remnants of Asgard crumbling beneath your feet. The cries of the fallen filled the air, mingled with the sounds of explosions and metal ripping apart. You could hear the labored breaths of your comrades, Thor struggling against another Titan, his hammer swinging with the force of a god's fury. But all you could focus on was Loki.

There he was, barely standing, his once-glorious armor tarnished with grime, blood, and exhaustion. Loki Laufeyson, son of Odin, god of mischief. Even in this moment, with his body pushed to its limits, he wasn’t giving up. His resolve was still there, buried beneath the chaos and bloodshed. And you couldn’t help but wonder—what had really changed?

The last time you had seen him—truly seen him—he had been a broken man in chains, lost in his obsession with power, consumed by the need to prove himself. He had hurt you in ways you never thought possible. And yet… despite everything, you still loved him.

And even now, with everything falling apart, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him.

A shadow fell across him—a towering, familiar figure. Thanos. The very same Titan who had twisted Loki’s mind, used him as a pawn, made him believe that he was nothing but a tool for destruction. The same man who had exploited Loki’s deepest insecurities.

Loki’s eyes flickered with a familiar dread, his mind racing. You could see it—the desperation, the fear of being a pawn once again. The rage in your chest flared, too hot, too fast. Not again, you thought. Not again.

“No!” you shouted, pushing yourself free from the tangled wreckage of the ship, your legs shaking with the effort. You couldn’t make it to him in time. You knew that. And yet, something in you refused to accept it.

But then something happened.

Loki raised his hand. Not in surrender. Not in defeat.

But with cold, defiant power. His fingers twitched, the air around him crackling with magic, green light beginning to pulse like fire. You saw it—the shift. The genius that was always lurking behind his eyes, the trickster’s mind at work even as his body betrayed him. He was pulling himself back up.

The world seemed to freeze for just a heartbeat. Thanos, that towering figure of destruction, faltered. His twisted grin momentarily vanished as he realized what Loki was doing. But it was too late. Loki’s magic surged around him like a protective cocoon, lifting him from the debris, his form shimmering and shifting with the raw power only Loki could command.

Your breath caught in your throat as Loki’s green magic surrounded him like a shield, pulling him up from the ground despite the blood and bruises. He wasn’t going to let Thanos win. Not this time.

And then, in a flash of green light, Loki was gone.

You blinked. The next moment, he was standing in front of you, hands gripping your shoulders, pulling you close with an urgency that took your breath away. His face was inches from yours—bloodied, exhausted, but still alive. Still here. Still him.

“I wasn’t going to let him have you,” Loki rasped, his voice hoarse, thick with pain and something darker. “Not again.”

You stood frozen for a moment, heart racing in your chest, the world still crumbling around you. His eyes locked with yours, green and desperate, and you could feel the weight of everything—the years apart, the hurt, the old love, the old betrayal.

“What have you done?” Your voice broke through, but you couldn’t hide the anger that surged up inside you. Loki had saved you. Again.

“I saved you,” he said, voice thick, strained. There was a rawness there now, an unfamiliar vulnerability. “I’m not walking away this time.”

Before you could process his words, the ship groaned under the force of another blast, and debris started to fall. Loki’s magic flared again, and with a snap of his fingers, you both were thrown into the air, landing several yards away just as the ship’s destruction intensified.

The chaos resumed. The battle raged on. And yet, amidst it all, you found yourself once again standing beside him.

But there was no time for gratitude. No time to process the raw emotions that had surged between you. There was only time for anger.

“Don’t you ever do that again!” you shouted, shoving against his chest, your breath ragged. “You’re not my savior, Loki. I can take care of myself!”

Loki blinked, surprise flashing in his eyes. His hands dropped from your shoulders, but his gaze didn’t leave yours. He seemed to recoil slightly, as if your words had cut deeper than any blade.

“I—” He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came. His throat tightened as if the apology he wanted to give was lodged somewhere deep inside him.

“You left me,” you hissed, your voice trembling with the force of everything you’d held in for so long. “You walked away. You broke me, Loki. And now you think you can just come back and save me like nothing happened?”

Your words hit him like a storm, the rawness of your pain sinking into the space between you. Loki stood there, for a moment, silent, his usual quick wit gone, replaced by a painful, heavy silence. He didn’t know how to respond.

“I didn’t—” His voice cracked. But before he could finish, another tremor shook the ship. The floor beneath your feet groaned, and debris started falling again.

The moment was lost.

But as Loki turned toward the battle, his back straightening, you realized something. Despite everything. Despite the hurt, the betrayal, the years that had passed, you were still standing beside him. And you realized—maybe, just maybe, he was finally ready to fight for you, too.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

RoR x Cheshire cat reader who has the personality and abilities as the Cheshire Cat from Alice in wonderland. The reader always has a grin on their face and likes to talk in riddles. Likes to play tricks on the gods and humans (but never could do it on Eve).

-You were definitely a unique person in Valhalla, and that was saying a lot, basing it on the other oddball people that inhabited, but you liked these other oddballs- you fit right in.

-There were those that you enjoyed pranking and teasing, harmless pranks like being invisible and appearing in random areas, scaring them, teasing them with your riddles and never giving a clear answer, but there were a few that you didn’t do anything like that to- and by a few, you only meant one person- Eve.

-Eve was a kind person, one who found your antics and riddles adorable, it… was unusual for you- you weren’t used to having others laughing and smiling over your antics. However, she was the only one to defend you, hugging you close when others try to yell at you, “Don’t you yell at my funny baby!”

-You didn’t hesitate to use that to your advantage, running to Mama Eve when you would get into trouble, something that others did find rather amusing.

-Some of your antics were amusing to others, especially with the more stoic members of Valhalla, Thor and Odin being your favorite ones.

-You spotted Thor, Odin, and Loki having tea together and you instantly grinned, turning invisible and you approached your target, Thor.

-Loki turned to Thor, to ask him a question and he instantly froze before he sputtered and busted into laughter, pointing as Odin looked at his son, finding a giant grin that was not his own over his lips.

-Odin rolled his eyes, “Y/N.” you floated away from Thor, who saw the grin and he glared slightly as you appeared, looking like you were lying on your belly, “Now you see me~ but I saw you first.”

-Loki grinned up at you, offering you a cookie which you took, Loki enjoyed your pranks, finding them funny while Odin spoke, “Is there something you needed, Y/N?”

-You rolled over, floating on your back, “Something or nothing~ I wonder if there is such a thing~” he groaned softly, annoyed with your actions before he lifted up the plate of cookies, “Just take some and leave- we don’t have time for you today.”

-You only took two more cookies, “I have to wonder what you have time for then, if you have no time for me?”

-He glared lightly and you grinned, disappearing, leaving only your mouth, “I’ll swing by at a later time. Now, then, or when?” Odin sighed softly, rubbing his one good eye lightly, “Stop laughing Loki!”

-You were definitely an oddball, but this was your home, with all the other oddballs.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Secret Affairs

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~600

Warnings: implied smut at the end

Summary: You and Loki have. secret relationship but maybe it's time to come clean to his parents, especially when his mother keeps interrupting you two.

Squares Filled: "unfortunately, i'm turned on by that." (2021) for @lokibingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Loki’s hand runs up and down your legs which sends shivers up and down your spine. If his hands aren’t turning you on, it’s his lips on your skin. You want nothing more than to grind down on him but anyone can walk inside his room and catch you, and then you’ll really be in deep shit.

Loki moves his lips from your mouth down to your neck while still keeping you on top of him, and you close your eyes in pleasure. His cock grows from underneath you and you pull away from him with a frustrated sigh.

“We can’t go there. Your mom might come in.”

“Let her.”

He pulls you back to him and kisses your neck.

“Baby, I wish but sneaking around is just too much fun.”

It’s hard to pull away from him completely but you get off him. He watches you walk into the bathroom butt-ass naked to take a shower that’s long overdue. You take a very quick shower and put on one of Loki’s shirts that happens to be lying in the bathroom. The shirt is big enough to cover your ass but short enough to show the bottom of your cheeks. You leave the bathroom while drying your hair, and Loki groans from the bed.

“What?”

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

“And?” you chuckle.

“Unfortunately, I’m turned on by that.”

You know you shouldn’t be doing this but you climb into bed and straddle his waist once more. He grips your thighs to keep you there but you don’t plan on going anywhere that isn’t in his bed. You lean down and kiss him, and he moves his hands from your thighs to your clothed nipples. He grips both of them between his fingers and tugs, making them stand to attention.

“Loki? You awake?”

His mother knocks on the door and you jump off him in a panic. No one knows you and Loki are dating. In fact, everyone believes you two hate each other. Your family and his have bad blood so if your parents knew you were dating a royal from Asgar, they’d have your head.

You scramble underneath his bed just as Frigga comes in. Loki shifts on the bed and moves the covers so she doesn’t suspect his boner. He has to hide his smirk at your behavior.

“I have invited the Y/L/N’s to dinner.” She walks over to his window and draws the curtains open to let in natural light. “Do me a favor and be nice to Y/N. I think she has a crush on you.”

Frigga doesn’t care who her sons date as long as they are happy. While she and Odin have issues with your parents, that doesn’t mean Loki has to have issues with you.

“Really?” Loki smirks. “I had no idea.”

This motherfucker.

“Of course, you don’t,” she sighs and walks to his bedroom door. “Get ready. They’re coming as soon as it’s dusk.”

When she closes the door behind her, Loki busts out laughing.

“Shut up,” you grumble and hit the underside of his bed. You crawl out from underneath it and stand over him. “You’re an ass, you know that?” You crawl into bed and lay beside him underneath the covers. “It’s filthy underneath there. I’m not hiding there anymore. We’re telling your mother.”

Loki continues to smirk and gets on top of you, moving the covers so it’s not bunched around you two.

“Later. Right now, I’m hungry. I haven’t had my snack yet.”

He slides underneath the covers so that he’s hidden from view, and you chuckle at his crude words. However, that chuckle turns into a strangled moan when his tongue touches your clit.

x

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[anika-ann]

Ochranuj me (Protect Me) - S.R.

Part 1/2

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; a part of this pseudomedieval-fantasy AU

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 8,6k

Summary:  Your practice of magic is punishable by death. Your love is forbidden by law; and yet it has been blessed, more than he knows.

When the crown prince is poisoned, Knight Steven Rogers is faced with a choice: will he risk a war or the love of his life?

And what of you? If asked… shall you risk it all? For the lands where you live… for your knight?

Warnings: attempted murder, poisoning, blood, mentions of death, polytheism, mentions of pregnancy (reader/OFC), Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Actual title is Ochraňuj mě (Protect Me) ...tumblr cannot handle a ň in their title 🙃 DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; fits after the events of the previous instalments

A/N 2: This is one less smut and more plot, forgive me 🤭 I hope you'll enjoy anyway. Yes, the Merlin inspo is real here. Inspo also from Bílá laň by Vesna. For music, check it out here, for visuals here.

Chodila, chodila za tebou bílá laň lásky se napila navzdory všem přísahám. Prosila pány lesa ať ji pustí za tebou zažít si, jaké to je jít za srdce ozvěnou.

Tady je tvůj háj, tady je tvůj ráj, jinam nepatříš. Jako bílá laň svoji duši chraň, ať záři neztratíš.

Tady je tvůj háj, tady je tvůj ráj, jinam nepatříš. Tak ať nepotká tě kříž. (kříž, kříž, kříž) - Bílá laň by Vesna

Boisterous laugh. Wine poured in gallons painting cheeks nearly just as ruddy as the warmth of the torches illuminating the high halls of the Starkerbürg castle painted the walls. Rich aroma of butter, oils, meats and spices flowing in the air, clinking of the most precious silverware and a distant sound of flutes as the musicians tasked to raise the already high spirits could be barely heard over the noise of the feast.

Under the watchful eye of the gods or the only God it was now believed there was, a celebration of peace was raving, everything but peaceful and serene; loud and overwhelming instead, a whirlwind of emerald green threaded with gold welcomed by the steady colours of rich crimson and gold. An anniversary of the peace made between the kingdom of Asgard and Starkerbürg, a party led by Thor Odinson, the king of the lands, honouring the deal his late father King Odin had made right before his passing.

The high table with King Howard sitting at the centre, his son Anthony, the crown prince, by his right, along with the woman he was courting, Pepper of the Potts; on her right, King Howard’s daughter, Princess Morgana. On the king’s left, the guests of honour; King Thor, his wife Queen Jane, and his brother Prince Loki. Knights and warriors of the highest ranks, lords and ladies of nobility joining the celebrations, servants all but running around the hall to tend to everyone’s needs.

Then, a sound of a chalice hitting the stone floor, one that would have been met with more laughter, had it not fallen from Prince Anthony’s hand, suddenly scarily pale and trembling. Cold to touch too, a terrifying contrast to his burning forehead glistening with sweat. Body sliding down the chair, barely even faint frantic motions to his chest.

Brief, deafening silence.

The traitorous calm before a storm would hit and leave nothing but death and destruction in its wake.

Chaos.

Swords drawn.

A wave of threats of violence.

A thundering voice of the King of Starkerbürg himself.

Calls for the royal physician Banner.

Images of peace and joy shattered; a single inconspicuous calm face among the sea of others in the face of a tragedy in making.

“Poison. I cannot determine what kind as of yet. Carry His Royal Majesty to his chambers!” the physician called out, not bothered by the fact he was ordering around knights and other nobility. “At once! There is no time to spare!”

Knights practically tripping over each other to tend to their prince, to their future ruler, to their brother in arms even as by rank he stood high above them. Rustle and grunts; a whisper of skirts as the culprit slipped away in the midst of disarray and cries of fear for the prince and the future of both kingdoms alike.

To think that an attack at the crown happening during the presence of a party of another kingdom – one similarly strong – was but a coincidence, would have been foolishly naïve.

Oh there were no such coincidences; this was but the first step towards a war.

And the perpetrator would be treated with that in mind.

“Aconite, most likely,” sounded the verdict, the words solemn on the physician’s lips as he fearfully raised his gaze to the King hovering over his shoulder as he inspected the second most important patient of the kingdom at the royal chambers.

The dark note in Banner’s voice snapped Steven from the haze as he, Sir Barnes, Sir Barton and Sir Wilson stood along the walls of Anthony’s chambers, tall and menacing, but just as helpless as Prince Anthony’s betrothed seated in the corner.

Whatever poison the physician was talking about, it was not known to Steven; but the message written in Banner’s expression was clear as day and terrifying like a night to be spent in the woods with rumoured presence of ghouls.

Inevitable death.

It was true that King Howard Stark might have yet to comprehend, despite his long years of ruling his lands, that one might catch more flies with sugar than vinegar, gain more by threading his actions with kindness than by spitting threats of violence; but he was no fool. He perceived the solemnity of the announcement and received it with a shadow over his already distorted features.

“This… aconite, Banner. What kind of a poison is that?” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest, but not bending. Not under the weight on the crown on his head, nor under the weight of the tidings he might be scared to receive. His face was but a mask of stern indifference; a silent warning to Banner to choose his next words carefully.

As if stating the patient’s condition was a choice, Steven thought darkly, his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage as he exchanged glances with his best friend standing by his side. When he looked back at the physician, he could see him swallow dryly even from the several feet distance. Yet, the brave man faced the King with his head held high and his expression filled with sorrow.

“A deadly kind, Your Royal Majesty,” Banner said slowly. Rage flashed on the King’s face, Steven’s stomach dropping at both the sight and the worst tidings brought. Death. “It is made from the nectar-filled blossoms or the tubers of the Aconitum lycoctonum flower. There is… no cure known to man.”

A sniffle sounded in the corner of the room, completely ignored except for Sir Barton’s compassionate glance towards the woman who was on the brink of despair at the mere thought of the man she had clearly already learned to love leaving this world forever.

The King beckoned to the guards standing by the door, making them instantly step forward with their spears ready, heading for Banner menacingly.

Steven’s feet twitched as he wanted to step forward to protect the physician, outrage rising at the injustice even as fear twisted his stomach.

Sir Barnes brushed his hand discreetly to stop him.

Steven gritted his teeth, but stayed put for now, watching the scene unfold with disdain.

Sir Barnes was correct in one thing: Anthony being poisoned and having his life hanging on a thread was horrible enough, and rash decisions and actions such as standing up to the King would only make it worse.

A raging man was an unwise man; and the King was only a man too, even as he compared himself to various deities and had nearly as much power as them – which only rendered him more dangerous. There was no point in scaring the physician to death or even hurting him, but such was the King’s power. Such was his God-given right to punish whoever as he pleased. It mattered little that Banner could barely be blamed for-

-for the crown prince’s impending death, apparently.

“Then I advise you, Banner, to find one fast,” King Howard sneered as the guards stood behind the physician now. “Otherwise, you shall meet the same fate as whoever of Asgard dared to try and rob me of my son.”

The guards grabbed the man’s shoulders and Steven’s hand instinctively went for his sword again; and he was not the only one. Still, the knights stood, hesitant to disobey their King even in the face of the glaring injustice, fighting an inner battle between honour and goodness of heart and the oath they had taken. Their loyalty was to the kingdom and the King represented it most of all, after all; even if he seemed to threaten it the most of all, too, at the moment.

Well, not on Steven’s watch.

“Wait!” he called out as he stepped forward, earning a hard glare from the King himself that should have told him to keep quiet and fall in line, but he could not. Not even for Bucky’s audible sigh behind him. Not when-

“Is there anything we can do for him as of now, is what we are trying to ask,” Sir Wilson spoke up before Steven could, moving to stand next to him.

Steven took a deep breath as his gaze flickered to his comrade, finding his face arranged in a carefully crafted humbleness – as it should be in the face of the ruler even when he was addressing the physician.

Banner’s words were kind, his voice firm and regretful.

“I am afraid there isn’t, good Sir.”

“The Royal Guard and all the knights have a clear mission given by the crown, Sir Wilson,” the King barked as he gestured for the physician to be dragged away, the poor man allowing it without a protest. King Howard’s gaze fell on his son’s pale face as he lied on the bed with nothing but soundless whimpers on his lips, before he snapped back to the four knights present. “Arrest all servants and nobility of Asgard. I shall have the King and his brother for myself. And should my son meet his forefathers, I shall have their heads on a spike by tomorrow.”

With those words, he turned on his heel and stepped out, his leave abruptly followed by Anthony’s wife-to-be rushing to her betrothed’s side, cheeks damp with tears.

Steven regarded the scene unfolding, frozen with horror and unease greater than anyone.

He feared the death of his friend, naturally, as they had just dragged the one single person with any chance of curing Anthony in the whole kingdom away from his bedside.

But Steven feared a lot more deaths too. Should Prince Anthony die, King Howard would unleash pure hell on Asgard and as a consequence, on all Starkerbürg as well.

All the knights knew that; everyone knew that. They all had a heavy feeling in their stomach at the mere thought, their feet slow and unwilling as they left the chambers one by one. Yet, Steven’s heart was heavier.

The thought had occurred to him when he had wondered what exactly the King was expecting from Banner.

To turn back time so the prince had never got poisoned?

To pray to the gods for a miracle?

To perform a miracle himself and cure what was considered uncurable?

The last idea had squeezed his heart in an icy fist, nausea clawing up his throat.

He knew someone who could achieve things as close to a miracle as possible in this realm. He had felt such miracle in his own blood, tissue and cells; he had felt the wonders strong magic was capable of when in the hands of the kind-hearted. He was still breathing solely because of it; and he knew the person who could achieve this closely, intimately even, mind, body and soul, the depth of the goodness of her heart.

Perhaps you would be able to replicate the feat of saving Steven from certain death.

Perhaps your magic was powerful enough to save thousands lives by saving one. Powerful enough to prevent a war.

But hope and miracles were not to be trifled with. Magic was not to be trifled with. Being seen practising magic meant a definite death sentence.

But would it? If it saved the future king’s life?

Surely, he couldn’t risk it; he couldn’t risk your life. Of all the things he had seen in his life, of all the things he had ever had the fortune to hold, you were the most precious one to him. If he brought you here, he could lose you. He could lose you, by his own hand no less, and that would be the highest price to pay for peace he did not even know would settle or not in the end.

No.

That was the one price he couldn’t pay. He’d much rather pay with his own life – but not yours. Gods, never yours.

But if you only could… knew a potion, could do anything at all…

As he marched with his comrades to arrest the innocent – for it could not be the work of all Asgardians at once – his jaw was tense, the dilemma occupying all his thoughts, feeling like it might tear him in half.

Until it hadn’t.

If he did nothing, the war was be inevitable. If he did nothing, he would lose you anyway.

A raging man was a dangerous man and King Stark would burn the world in the wake of his anger and grief, heedless of whoever would burn with it.

Steven stopped dead in his tracks, Sir Barnes nearly colliding with him as a result.

“Steve, what the-“

“I must go,” Steven said in a hushed voice, swiftly changing direction; or attempting to. Sir Barnes’ hand was quick to grab onto his elbow, stopping him, heedless of other knights continuing their path.

“Steve, what in heavens do you mean by that?”

“I must fetch someone. I believe she could help.”

Sir Barnes bewilderment would perhaps be almost comical had it not been for the dread pooling cold in Steven’s gut.

“…she? What—the woman you have been sneaking off to see?” Sir Barnes enquired, causing a startled and utterly confused expression to appear on Steven’s face, a small alarmed sound pushing past the man’s lips despite his effort to remain composed.

Hold on, hold on-- Bucky knew?!

The look Steven received back was unimpressed at best – of course Bucky knew. He knew Steven almost better than he knew himself.

“Save the surprise for another day. How could she possibly help? Is she a physician’s assistant? Or even an apprentice for some insane reason?”

Had Steve had the capacity, he’d glare at Bucky for the offensive tone with which he had asked the question; however, he did not have it and in the brief moment he spent pondering, he realized that Bucky was not opposed to the idea itself. It was simply the ways of Starkerbürg: to try and take a woman as a physician’s apprentice was insane indeed. King had the God-given right to appoint physicians – and King Howard would certainly never approve of a female one.

But that didn’t matter, because that was not who you were.

“She’s… she is a healer.”

“A healer?” Sir Barnes echoed pointedly, doubt colouring his words. “What does than even mean? We do not have time for this.”

Steven huffed, trying to tug his arm free from Sir Barnes’ grasp as his impatience grew along with the number of doubts whether it was ever a good idea to consider your aid; but there were no options. No time to search for them. No time to waste and no time for finesse. He needed to go and he needed Bucky to understand – and more than that.

“She saved my life, Bucky. Back when I fell from the crags into the river… when you thought I was dead-“

“You must have been lucky, fell into deep water. You had superficial injuries. This is a poison. One the best physician of the court claims to have no antidote for.”

Steven swallowed thickly, the heaviest of feelings in his stomach as he chose to reveal his greatest secret as to make a point and be released to act before it’d be too late. “Bucky, I had much more than superficial injuries. She… she helped then. She might be able to help now, but… I will need your help with protecting her should it come to it.”

Bucky looked at Steve as if he had just grown a second head, glancing around nervously as guards and knights alike kept passing them, casting strange looks at them for their stillness. Sir Barnes lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper.

“Are you saying you were wounded much worse and yet she was able to tend to you? In such short time that you were missing then? And that she might be able to help here, now, with a poison that has no known cure?” Sir Barnes demanded hastily, bewildered and clearly irritated. “Are you hearing yourself, Steven? What kind of a healer would she have to be to-“

The almost sardonic voice suddenly fell silent, all blood draining from Sir Barnes’ face when the horrifying realization finally dawned to him. His hand fell limp, finally releasing Steven’s arm.

“Steve, this is not a subject for joking.”

Steven swallowed heavily, heart thundering in his chest, blood pounding in his temples. He shouldn’t have told – but he had to. He had to, right? Bucky needed to understand-

He sighed quietly, whole body strung tight in expectation of his friend exploding in rage – rage he had no time for.

“I am not joking. And you are right, we are losing precious time, I should-”

The sudden grip on Steven’s his shoulder, appearing as to stop him from leaving, was much more brutal than the hold on his elbow had been, fingers digging into flesh even over the layers of clothing.

“You— have you been… lying with a--”

Steven’s voice was quiet, but as sharp and dangerous as the sword resting in the sheath on his hip. “Choose your words carefully, Bucky. That is the woman I love and owe my life to. I would die for her, and I would not have been standing here had she not healed me.”

“That could be exactly what she wants you to think!” Sir Barnes sputtered. Steven fought the urge to roll his eyes – the absurdity of such statement was glaring.

“Oh for heavens-- I might be a fool sometimes, but I am not an idiot-”

“Debatable!” Sir Barnes whispered as madly as if he was in fact yelling. “As you’re proving it this very moment!”

Steven shook his head, the feeling in his gut growing more gnawing by the second, every frantic beat of his heart feeling like a waste of precious time.

“Bucky, you said it yourself – we do not have time for this! I must go. I will get her, but… please. Help me protect her if the King is blind to the fact she uses--- it to do good.”

Sir Barnes simply stared back, the halls empty by now as much as his gaze, however inquiring.

The grip on Sir Rogers’ arm loosened.

Silence stretched. Precious second ticked by, grains of sand in hourglass no one could turn back falling; and with each and every one, Steve’s stomach tightened further with creeping horror.

Surely his most precious, most loyal friend, having been standing by his side since childhood, would not abandon him now? Surely he would not betray him in moments that might be deciding his fate, the fate of his beloved, of the whole kingdom?

“Bucky, please. I swear-- I’m begging you. I need to-- I need to protect her. At any cost.”

“What of your sword?” Sir Barnes asked dully, appearing indifferent to Steven’s desperate pleas.

What of your knighthood? Are you willing to give up that, if you are forced to leave in the darkness of the night and never return to bring your beloved to safety? Are you willing to leave the path of the honorary knight to become a lawless fugitive?

The smile which found its way to the corners of Steve’s lips was soft; sad and torn, for it was the greatest honour to serve, to protect, to help. He had been and always would be grateful for the rare chance he had got.

But there was no greater blessing of the gods themselves than you having entered his life and taking it by the most beautiful of storms. He loved you. He loved you more than anything and anyone in this world and that was what he would not even dream of giving up.

He didn’t respond with words; and yet, the exasperation on his closest friend’s face told him he did not have to. Sir Barnes understood from Steven’s expression alone. He always had.

“Gods, Steven Grant of Rogers, of all stunts you could have pulled to get yourself hanged, you truly had to go and chose the most foolish one. My God- Steven…”

Most foolish one? Echoed in Steven’s head, the words absurd. No. The most gorgeous one, the purest one, the most blessed, he allowed himself to muse. The most honourable one too, no? Love. Where was justice, if love, the purest emotions of all, was considered a crime? Did the new religious teachings not speak of love being kind, patient, knowing no dishonour and wrongs?

That was how he loved you. Wholly and entirely, kindly, patiently, even if passionately.

It was only then when Steven snapped from his haze and finally noticed a trace of hurt on Sir Barnes’ face when it occurred to him why Bucky had taken so long to respond. He was cross with Steven; but not as much for the alleged crime, but for having kept it a secret. Keeping you a secret; the one closest to his heart, his beloved, hidden from the one person he had always trusted with anything.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. No one could know. She’s-- she is too precious. I had to protect her,” he explained softly, urgently. “And I still do. I will, with your help or without it. But… please.”

Sir Barnes continued to regard him, stunned into silence still, expression unreadable.

Then, he shook his head; what might seem as disagreement however, Steve recognized as resignation. He had known Bucky for too long to not be able to decipher which shake of a head was a no and which was an expression of indignation and regret at his own choice of a best friend.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

And with those words, Steve took his hasty leave, his minute relief drowned in the sea of worry when he sneaked into the stables to rush through the gates of the castle, claiming to be running a King’s errand.

Seeking his closeness the pretty white doe having sipped at love all despite her oath, she begged the forest spirits to let her go to follow her heart and its eternal song.

Light breeze caressing your hair like the tender fingers of your lover, brushing away a lose strand from your face. Gentle September sunrays of a late afternoon warming your cheeks, long leaves of grass tickling your ankles and your hands as you gathered brownwort, thyme and lady’s mantle, the smell almost too much despite its pleasant notes. Your hand instinctively laying over your belly as the reminder of why you were gathering these particular herbs blossomed in your mind anew, a smile settling on your face. It was not just the time of year blessing people with abundance of these flowers, a nature’s reminder the time was coming to bath in the blessed lake on the Autumn equinox; it was the sweet secret humming under your heart too, growing stronger and more beautiful by day – and slightly bittersweet for for now, it was only yours to keep, your beloved knight none the wiser.

Steven.

The very reason, you suspected, for the heavy feeling in your heart; the reason why none of the kind offerings of mother nature seemed to sooth a jittery feeling you had woken with up from your restless sleep. Unease had been crawling over your skin; a solemnity’s shadows, despite the beautiful weather and the joyful morning realisation that a barely noticeable bump was now showing on your body, a testament to the blessings of love.

The sky was beginning to colour with sunset with no clouds in sight; and yet, you could feel a storm coming, one you did not feel would be of the refreshing purifying kind. The air did not smell of rain; if you breathed in deeply, it reeked of the very death the wind seemed to whisper about in the tallest of birch trees. A warning; a witch’s intuition tuned to the finest hints of the gods of nature and forest spirits. You had tried to sooth yourself, coaxing yourself into peace by wondering if it perhaps was but a new future mother’s anxiety.

Yet, an instinct as old as time whispered to you to know better.

Which was why the wild stomping of hooves nearing your cabin should have not taken you by surprise. But it did.

You rose from your crouch so fast your head span, gathered flowers falling from your hands at the brief faint sensation; you steadied yourself just as Steven’s horse came into view, slowing into a walk as not to startle you or crush all the blossoms on the meadow.

The silent thank you to the gods for seeing your love alive and well left your lips without prompting, followed by your spine tingling with a shudder of power at its base.

Almost as if the gods blessed you for your genuine gratitude and gifted you with strength. Strength you shall no doubt need, for Steven might be living and breathing, dismounting his mare in a thousand-times practised manner, breathtaking as ever, but the distress on his face and the tension of his wide shoulders told you those shoulders carried the weight of the world at the moment.

Feet waking with motion, you met him halfway as he rushed to you, his arms quick to embrace you lovingly but so tight all air left your ribcage for long moments. Steven’s heart thundered against your ear as you hid your face against his chest. Fresh air had washed his clothes of most smells, but sweat and wine and rich spices still enveloped your senses, a tell-tale signs of the feast which he had told you about being interrupted by something vicious.

Yet, you took precious moments of simply breathing your lover in, basking in the comfort his arms offered no matter the circumstance.

He nuzzled his face in your hair, his chest expanding with a generous inhale, a steadying breath which made his heart race faster, as if attempting to outrun the very storm you had felt arriving.

You ran your hands down his broad back, feeling your own heart leaping into your throat as the silence between you, often so sweet and comforting, stretched ominously.

“Steven… love,” you whispered, attempting to shift in his embrace, only achieving his hold growing firmer, his muscles almost shaking with effort not to let go.

Oh Steven… What a terrible feat had been laid upon him?

“What has happened?”

Finally releasing your body, his hands were quick to cradle your face instead, achingly gentle, even as his eyes roamed your face wordlessly, brimming with so much emotion it stirred your unease further.

“Rytier moj?”

Steven’s face softened minutely, thumbs stroking your cheekbones as tenderly as butterfly wings despite the power – or the lack of it – in his grip.

“My love…”

Lips curling in a tiny smile, you mirrored Steven’s affection, reaching to settle your palm against his cheek, fingers of your other hand carding through his hair; your heart fluttered when he leaned into your touch, a wavering breath escaping his lips before they pressed against your palm to sooth the scratch of his beard against your skin.

Despite the dulcet image he made, eyes fluttering close for a blissful moment of nothing but love shared, you felt his body pulse with anxious urgency seemingly seeping into yours through your fingertips.

“I did not sleep well…” you confessed, his already pursed lips turning down. “I had a heavy feeling in me. Now I know the gods had not warned me simply for their own whims. What’s happened?”

Steven opened his eyes again; with a single caress of the breeze, he straightened, his aura of a knight – a fierce protector, a loyal friend, a humble determined servant – returning with its full force as did his worry.

“I need your help.”

A simple plea.

A simple answer.

“Always, rytier moj. Anything,” you promised.

One would expect relief to fill your lover’s features; instead, dread twisted them into a frown of dismay. Almost as if he had been hoping for your rejection.

Why?

The whisper of death among the trees grew louder, haunting, sending such a shudder through your body not even your lover’s warmth could hope to protect you from it, another urgent question scratching at the back of your mind.

Death, the trees seemed to whisper.

Whose death?

“Oh bosorka moja…”

Not Steven’s. Never. Not on your watch. Not as long as you walked this realm.

And not your child’s. You’d claw a throat open with your bare hands had anyone tried to take them away. Take her away. You had dreamed two nights prior, dreamed of a girl with Steven’s beautiful eyes and your hair caressed by the wind, her laughter filling the air as he sat her on his shoulders and she placed the daisy crown on his head-

The image had been so full of hope, so bright, so full of promise; it battled the current scent of death fiercely, one blending into another, and it felt like you were stood in the middle.

Your choice. Your power.

Your victory; or your loss.

You gulped, your gentle hold on Steven’s face growing shaky; with fear or the weight of responsibility, you weren’t sure.

“What is it, love? You are worrying me… come in. Tell me what weights down your-“

“Prince Anthony has been poisoned,” he said at last.

The whisper of the wind seemed to turn into a screech of a gale, even as the tree leaves and grass barely rustled.

The Prince… was he the one whose death you felt impending? It must have been.

In a split second, it became so clear why Steven was so shaken.

An impending death of his brother in arms. Of someone whom he served and appreciated.

Of the future ruler; quite possibly caused by the attempts of the party of Asgard.

An act of war.

Should Prince Anthony die, there would be no stopping at one death. Devastating number of lives could be lost. Including Steven’s.

No. Not on your watch. Not as long as you walked this realm.

But could you stop it?

Stood in the middle. Your choice. Your power.

Could you prevent a war?

Your mind was set into a whirl, various herbs and remedies for different poisonings refreshed in your mind.

“Do you know which poison it was?” you asked urgently, dropping your hands; and confused as why Steven’s remained firmly on your face, his expression speaking of pain greater than before. “Steven, love. What are his troubles? I can send a potion, pass it as a remedy from a physician-”

“Burning feeling in his forehead, weakness of muscles, trembling, cold sweat… he fainted and could not be woken up, only for a brief moment. He had trouble speaking, began to shake, fainted again...” Steven listed slowly, his unease growing with every word.

And so did yours.

Determination bled out from your body drop by drop, replaced by dread, the very weakness your lover was talking about as if settling in your own muscles and bones.

“The physician believes it might have been... aconite?” he added.

You had figured as much, seemingly endless moments before Steven spoke the dreaded word.

Aconite.

The worst nightmare of all living things; the deadliest daydream of those who meant harm and would not stop until their enemy released their last breath.

Death, screeched the breeze in the crowns of the birch trees; the yew trees, the very symbol of passing, joining in.

Death. War. Death.

Your power. Your victory. Your loss.

Your voice shook more frantically than young aspen leaves in the wind.

“Steven… aconite is deadly. I have no potion or salve for this. There is no cure-”

“That is what physician Banner said.”

“But then what…”

Your voice trailed off, words stuck in your throat, air stolen from your chest. A lighting from clear skies could struck you at the very moment and you would barely take notice of such.

It all made sense now. You having lost sleep. The whispers of death. The assumed shiver of power you shall no doubt need. And at last, Steven’s almost palpable dismay when you had said you’d help. That you’d do anything.

He had hoped you’d help.

He was terrified of it all the same.

You could feel blood draining from your face, rushing past your ears; unspeakable horror and determination swept you like the non-existent gale in the tree crowns.

“Steven…”

His grip on your face grew firmer, unsteady but urgent, his forehead pressed against yours as his eyes slid shut, his whisper a frantic promise, a confession and a prayer at once.

“I know. Believe me, my love, I know, and I have never been more scared of anything in my whole life,” he said huskily, barely audible over the wild thundering of your heart, the shaky sound of your quick breaths, even as the rest of the world faded into background, all noise ceasing. Or perhaps even the sparrows forgot how to sing, struck by fear for their life.“I would have not asked this of you if I did not fear that Anthony’s death would unleash a war with Asgard and might destroy us all… and if I did not believe I could protect you.”

“Steven-“

A thumb over your lip, gently pressing to silence your protest, Steven guided you to look up to his eyes, every word falling from his lips an oath signed by his own blood.

“Bosorka moja… I shall protect you, no matter the cost. You must know I would lay my life for you. I will, should it come to it. As long as you are safe.”

Consumed by adoration and terror at once, you slipped from Steven’s hold, shaking your head.

He had not the slightest idea what he was speaking of, the reckless fool.

He had no idea.

And he had no idea whom he would be leaving should he deliver on his terrible promise.

“These words are not nearly as comforting as you believe them to be! How would we-- how would I live without you?” you lamented, feeling the fire of power and indignation burn inside of you, chasing the fear away for several beats of your heart. “And I-- I am not even sure I can heal him.”

“You healed me,” Steven offered kindly, encouraging, confusion and the softest trace of hurt at you having escaped his touch twisting his face. He had no idea. He had no idea at all. “You said I was at the brink of death myself-“

“You were,” you spat, not appreciating the reminder – not of his injuries, nor of your past recklessness, as grateful as you were for the latter, not a single regret in your mind for having risked it all to save the handsome stranger with goodness etched into his very soul, having shone so bright it had outshined your doubts and fear for your life. But this was different. So much circumstance had changed. “But I was… I had faith in your soul, saw your good heart. I believed to be safe from you should I be too weak to protect myself after I casted my spells, and for that, I was able to pour all my magic into the healing. And I-- I was much more careless with my power then… “

You made a pause, inhaling slowly, gathering courage in the face of Steven’s features twisting further with distress.

“But Steven… that was before. I-- before we-“

“What is it, bosorka moja? Before what?”

Your lower lip trembled, regret lacing the soft touch of your fingertips to his face.

This was not how you wished for him to find out. You had told him before, erased his memory to ease his conscience and to prepare for the right moment, a moment fit for such joyful tidings; but much like him, having rushed here asking for help despite the unspeakable risks, you had no other option.

You had no choice.

You had no time.

The deep-sea blue with a forest green shade of his irises brimmed with emotion, tenderness and silent question.

With a lump in your throat, you dropped your hands again, curling them around your middle as if to protect the secret and save it for a reverent moment your love and lover – and your child – would have deserved.

Steven regarded your stance with dread visibly climbing up his throat. You could see it in his eyes, the sudden uncertainty, the questions written in his eyes growing frantic and painful.

Why had you stepped back from him? Why had you evaded his touch? Why did you seem taken by sorrow? What secret had you been keeping from him? For you must have had some. You must have not told him something crucial – and in a dark time like this, it shall come to light.

You appeared so shaken; you appeared scared. Of something he had failed to protect you from?

Or of his reaction to the revelation?

You chose your words carefully, speaking them slowly, even though you could feel him hanging onto every syllable.

“It is not only me anymore who needs to be protected.”

Steven did not understand; that much was clear from his expression, from the step he took closer to you only for you to take a step back, etching his hurt deeper into his face.

“I… I do not understand, my love. Do you have—do you know of someone who could help you? Do they need protection too?”

The they tasted of poison much bitterer than aconite; disbelief and profound pain.

You could almost hear it, the absurd questions he seemed to be asking himself. Was there… was there someone else? Someone else who had earned your love more fiercely than he had? More deserving?

The way your love remained hidden, the distance he still had to keep, laid heavy in his mind, always, now feeding his doubt; his fear that someone else now occupied the space he had so selfishly taken up in your heart.

But had only been here mere days ago, yes? Surely you could have not--- you would have not… or had you? No. That wasn’t possible. You were the kindest most loving person he had ever met, loyal to a fault – and he was blessed to be yours, to be loved, unconditionally, more than he deserved for keeping you his little secret.

You could not read thoughts; but Steven’s always seemed to be laid bare in front of you to card through. Betrayal and resignation all at once, jaw tight to mask his hurt, to hide the very doubt you read so clearly. Doubt, but not of you; of him. He had always carried it with him, the guilt of not providing for you as he imagined he should for his beloved.

Doubt, crystal clear in his gaze. It was possible, was it not? The most wonderful woman he had ever met, finally fed up, the goblet of your patience finally having overflowed, deciding to find a man worthy of you, able to take care of you, truly, one you were willing to-

You could not bear his mind screaming anymore, even as you had not heard a single word, a single thought, all of it but achy questions expressed by his gaze alone.

“No, Steven, I do not--- I merely cannot only think of myself now,” you said softly, searching for words to reveal the secret at last, not, not wanting to and craving it all the same. “I… I need to protect us.”

His shoulders sagged, doubt and heartache erased at once, tenderness at your worry for him melting into his smile.

“Do not fret, bosorka moja. I can hold my own.”

The faint smile in the corner of your mouth hurt, tears burning in your eyes.

“I know, rytier moj… and yes, I meant us, but I--- I also meant us.”

The arm you had curled around your middle shifted. Your palm spread pointedly over your belly as you met his gaze with hesitance and silent hope; for as much as you dreaded revealing the source of your worst fear, the tidings were still joyful. And you hoped with the entirety of your heart that Steven would accept them as such, much like the first time.

But first, he had to comprehend them.

Several rushed beats of your heart it took him; but then he finally did.

Suddenly, it was his turn to stand still and rigid as if a lightning from the perfectly clear skies struck him. And it might have as well.

His voice was barely louder than a breath, hoarse, laced with careful hope despite the glaring truth.

“You—we- are we-?”

A crystal-clear memory of those being the very words he had spoken the first time entered your mind, a single tear spilling over; the awe and reverence on his face mirrored his expression all the same as you confirmed.

“Yes.”

“You are with a child? My child?”

It would have been amusing, the questions, if you hadn’t been on a brink of hysteria and hadn’t there been a metaphorical sword hanging above your heads while you indulged in revealing the sweetest secret there was between lovers.

“Yes.”

Countless grains of sand in hourglass fell, Steven simply observing you, his gaze feasting on the entirety of you with newfound emotion that touched your very soul and made it shiver with delight. He observed you with such adoration and devotion you could only imagine he would show to a deity descending to walk the Earth.

And then he was surging forward, falling on his knees in front you, one hand on your hip, the other wrapping around your lower back to keep you close as he laid his forehead on your belly, shaky, slow and careful; nothing short of reverent. Despite the circumstance, all the tears prickling in your eyes found their release – every inch of your body sang, feeling Steven’s love for both you and the life he had a generous hand in creating.

“Oh bosorka moja… láska moja,” he muttered into the fabric before he looked up, hesitant fingers slipping under, to feel the very bump you had only noticed today. His lips parted in mute awe, eyes turning glassy with sheer delight and wonder at the miracle.

You allowed yourself another moment of basking in his love; feeling the delight spreading through every vein, through every bone and nerve, all the way to your very core and source of power. Your hands found gentle purchase of Steven’s hair as his lips pressed to your belly.

But then, the inaudible crackle in the air brought you both from your reverie, the breeze screeching of death instead of new life returning.

There was no choice; dread filled your being along with a haunting whisper of opportunity from a voice speaking in tongues you barely understood and yet deciphered as guidance.

You must go. You must try. Despite the risks.

Stood in the middle. Your power. Your victory; your loss.

Your only hope and your possible doom.

“I shall try my best to help, even as I do not know if I will be able to. But Steven…” you addressed him softly, revealing one more piece, one more source of joy, “our little girl must remain safe at any cost.”

The hands sprawled around your middle twitched, a single tear escaping him as his eyes shone.

“Our--- a girl? How-“

“It is but a feeling,” you admitted, earning a brilliant smile which lasted too shortly.

You smiled tightly in return, a few more tears rolling down your cheeks as Steven’s hand softly caressed your barely-there bump again, butterflies seemingly to erupting in your stomach, your heart humming.

He rose to his feet with something in his eyes turning steely, his gentle voice once against taking on a heaviness of an oath.

“I will protect you both, even if it should be the last thing I will ever do.”

One wavering breath was all the luxury you granted yourself before springing into action, not allowing yourself to lament at the potential of death weaved into Steven’s promise. You could not afford any more distraction. The hourglass was unrelenting, rushing you.

“I know. We shall get going.”

You could feel his eyes on you, a mute confusion as you ruminated through the cabinets, the fire lit, a small pot placed on it, two handfuls of water, milk thistle, ginseng roots, and sprinkle of uncaria leaves added to the mix.

“You can sit down, love, I shall only complete the potion swiftly and we will be on our way,” you assured him, reaching for a pinch of turmeric to add.

Steven did not, in fact, sit down – if anything, you could feel him grow taller behind you, as if his growing bewilderment added an inch or two to his already impressive height. His stare was firmly set on you, a little burning and slightly insulting since you could almost hear his silent questioning of your sanity.

A potion? But you had said-

You looked over your shoulder briefly, your lover’s body nearer than expected, causing you to need to crane you neck a bit.

“No, there is no potion to neutralise the poison – but this remedy strengthens a body, aids it to fight off an infection and weakness,” you explained, expecting Steven’s face clearing, but not waiting for it do so, busying yourself with reading the mental list of ingredients, recalling every indispensable element. Milk thistle, ginseng, uncaria leaves, turmeric… ah. Yes. Where herbs were concerned, rare or common, that would be all. Only one last ingredient.

A gentle hand on your elbow stopped you as you were turning to the stack of knives, halting your movements tenderly but firmly. Blinking, you lifted your gaze to Steven’s face again, disconcerted by his unreadable expression.

“Is it… safe?”

Had it not been for the large distress he was in, the feeling oozing of him and adding to your own shakiness, had it not been for the tenderness of his touch, you’d feign a slap to chase his hand away at the almost silly question – and at the sudden doubt in your knowledge and power and your reign over it.

“Steven, love, my apologies for the bluntness, but Prince Anthony is on his deathbed, so I cannot very well hurt him further and I shall have you known that this very potion you have drunk yourself-”

“For you,” he clarified, two soft syllables in contrast to your slightly exasperated words, your voice falling silent as sweet worry reflected in his sky-blue irises. Despite the circumstance, your heart seared at the fussing, no matter how groundless and ironic. “I am asking whether it is safe for you and our… our child to prepare that. I know it may seem irrational given why I am here, but-“

It was, you had to admit. And yet. You spent a precious moment, precious grains of sand falling in the ominous hourglass above your heads, placing your palm over his hand, reassuring.

“It is perfectly safe, rytier moj… certainly no more dangerous than rushing to the castle, the very heart of the Kingdom, and attempt to save the prince using the most outlawed practice in these lands,” you added with an unsteady cheekiness, earning an exasperated glare; and a full body shudder he couldn’t hope to contain.

The same tremble ran through your body; and yet, the whisper for caution was overshadowed by a tingle of energy unknown, a wordless encouragement. Almost a haunting promise from the Fate itself that bravery shall be rewarded.

But if that were true, where would the ever-present whispers of death and upcoming end fit in the mosaic then?

Shaking your head as well as the overwhelmingly bewildering sensations off, you charmed a soft smile for your lover and love – for the father of your child, already caring so deeply for the life to be born out of your love – and let your hand fall, turning back to your work as stream began to fill the cabin.

One last ingredient; a life essence to help maintain life.

You cradled the handle of the blade carefully in your hand, turning your other palm against the tip; the knife was out of your hand before you could comprehend how, pressed flat to Steven’s thigh, shielded from your touch.

“I’m sorry. I--- is that necessary?” Steven asked with a painful edge to his voice, his continued concern causing your heart to tremble.

“Yes… it is but a drop of blood, my love, I promise. A speckle of life essence to maintain life.”

His frown deepened as you reached for the knife again, fingers brushing his soothingly as you grasped at the handle. So many emotions played over his features; hesitance, concern, guilt. He must have realised you had used your blood before to cure him before you had even learned his name, another sacrifice having been made aside from having left yourself completely vulnerable to him when you had drained your magic and body alike to bring him from the death’s doorstep where you had found him at.

Then, an almost shy question, as if he felt too bold to even suggest such heretic thought.

“Life essence… would mine suffice, then?”

Where his implication was shy – that his mere mortal, human blood could match yours, the blood of a born witch – his determination was not.

He met your eye, a brilliant satisfied sparkle lighting up his irises when he read the truth in your hesitant gaze.

“Yes… it would. But-“

Your knight offered his left palm outstretched, no further questions. The bottomless trust in his gesture and in his eyes caused a lump to grow in your throat; the mere idea of cutting him, even if it was to only be but a scratch, had ache sting deep within your ribcage.

“Are you cert-“

“Would you rather I lead the cut myself, love?” he asked, his voice tender upon your hesitance, understanding the action would cause you pain – as if you were to hurt yourself instead.

And you might as well.

Your hands were made to heal his wounds, not cause them; your hands were made to erase his aches, not bring them; your hands were made to love, not hurt.

Your read in his gentle gaze as he nearly read in yours: I despise the thought of hurting you, rytier moj; It is but alright, bosorka moja.

You shook your head.

“I-- no. I may do it. I apologize, we do not have time for-“

A hand grasping your jaw, soft lips silencing your apologies; your eyes fluttered close despite seeing right through the trick. You felt the pressure of his hand against the blade, the silent sound of protest earning you a deeper kiss, a softer caress of his lips against yours, tasting sweeter than summer breeze, so achingly tender.

“There you go, bosorka moja…”

With his retreat, Steven ran his thumb over your cheek, smiling; then, he moved his injured hand into yours, leading you above the pot.

Slightly dazed and exasperated still, you sighed and carefully squeezed his wound to indeed only spare a drop of his precious blood.

As you pressed your lips to his fingertips in a thank you, you let your healing power flow through your touch, closing the cut your body should have worn.

“This had better be the only blood spilled today,” you whispered; and prayed too. You met your Steven’s stormy gaze as the contents of the pot sizzled, sweet coppery aroma rising in the air.

“It will, bosorka moja. It will.”

He sealed the deal with a kiss, sweet and desperate and bruising.

And falling on deaf ears, whisper in the crowns of the birch trees, his and your words echoed the very same song.

Blood had better be spilled…

Today, today, today…It will, it will, it will…

Next part

Other headcanon and playlist

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this universe

Complete masterlist

Endearments used: Rytier moj (My knight) Bosorka moja (Witch mine) Láska moja (Love mine)

I hope you liked this - let me know your thoughts!

May your November be sweet and cosy ✨

[darknessawaits28]

Oh My Darling {Loki x pregnant reader}

Hello my lovies! Wanted to give you a short story about Loki finding out you are pregnant. Hope you enjoy my lovies! Thank you for all your love and support! Stay awesome! :3

Warnings: sensual gifs, mention of vomit, and very small things that might make someone uncomfortable.

Story was requested by @marley-suguru4143, make sure to give them a follow! :3

Asgard, the kingdom of gods and goddesses. It was a beautiful sight that could bring anyone to their knees. Odin was the all-father that ruled among this kingdom, he was a stubborn yet fierce man that ruled with an iron fist. He is wise, honorable, and dedicated to keeping the peace between the realms. His beautiful wife and queen is Frigga who is kind, gentle, and such a loving soul. They both had two sons, Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder, and Loki Laufeyson, the God of Mischief; well adopted. It was a peaceful time in the kingdom, but a lot of heads were turning sideways at the sight of the wife of Loki. You were a mortal, something that the gods and goddesses did not want to see in their realm, but they kept quiet because Frigga always protected her sons, no matter how ridiculous their actions may seem. 

Within the walls of Royal Palace of Valaskjalf, sounds of heavy boots could be heard stomping their way along the marble floors. It was the prince of Asgard, worriedly trying to find his beloved. Ever since they had consummated their marriage a couple of months ago, his beloved has been acting quite strange, sneaking out in the middle of the night, consuming various plates of food, and….a lot of visits to the washroom. He didn’t want to impose on you and ask you various questions that could possibly make you already stressed as it is; afterall, you were the princess now and had royal duties to perform. 

“You there, have you seen my beloved?” Loki asked one of the passing servants.

“Hello sire, yes, she is partaking in the feast that we have just prepared, hope you enjoy.”

“Oh, thank you” Loki nodded, continuing to walk past the servant towards the great hall, his green cape flowing elegantly behind him. Once he arrived at the great hall, he sighed happily at the sight of you, filling your plate as usual. “Hello my darling,” Loki cooed as he approached from behind you, wrapping his arms around you ever so slightly. 

“Loki!” You gasped, pulling away from him slightly, not wanting to give him the hint that you had a bump hiding underneath your dress. 

Loki, taken aback by you pulling away from him, furrowed his brow, “Are you alright my love?” “Did I by any chance make you uncomfortable?” 

“Oh no my love, my apologies, I am not feeling well of late so….any touch is…..painful for me….”. “It isn’t you of course, so please don’t feel angered.” 

“Of course not my darling, why would I be angered?” Loki smiled as much as he could, feeling a bit hurt that you tossed him aside when you were in pain instead of cuddling up close to him and telling him what hurts so he could potentially heal you.

“Hello my son, how are you?” Frigga smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek and then gently placed her hand against your back. “Good to see you again my dear.”

“Mother” Loki smiled, giving her a kiss back when she had approached him.

“Hello your highness, it is a pleasure to see you again as well” You smiled, taking a bite of the chicken that was on your plate. 

“Did you tell him yet?” Frigga ecstatically questioned.

Shocked to hear her even ask that question, you shook your head quickly to give her an indication that you never even mentioned the idea of you being pregnant to him because you truly were afraid of telling him, but mostly due to the stress he was currently under. 

“Oh, my apologies then, do not worry about it then Loki” Frigga gulped, hoping that she didn’t overstep.

“Tell me what?” Loki asked curiously, his stomach already doing flips at whatever the ‘news’ was. 

“Nothing my love, it isn’t important…oh…uh…excuse me” you gulped, setting the plate down and covering your mouth as you headed towards the washroom. 

“Darling, are you alright?” Loki gasped as he tried to rush to your aid but was pulled back by his mother. “Mother please, let me help my wife!”

“I know honey, but I know she will refuse your help.”

Shaking his head in anger, he gripped his forehead, wanting to ask you but still pulled himself back so as to not upset you. “What is going on with her?” “Is it our food she is eating that is making her stomach upset?” “I can perfectly go down to Miguard and get her proper mortal food if that is what’s causing her anguish.” “I just feel so useless!” Loki nearly shouted in anger as he sat down on the chair closest to him.

Frigga smiled softly as she walked over to her son and pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead, “I would tell you, but that is not my place my darling.” “But I assure you, she is perfectly healthy, along with her passenger.”

“Passenger?” Loki questioned as he stood from his chair, a loud gasp escaping his lips when he realized what she had meant. “No, it can’t be?” “Y/n!” He shouted loudly, possibly alerting the whole kingdom. 

Meanwhile, you were in the washroom, breathing heavily as you sat on the floor near the bathtub, gripping the small bump that you had, feeling quite nauseous and weak. Although, you jumped violently at the sound of Loki calling your name, knowing for a fact that something was wrong. “Oh no, not now” you groaned, gasping when you began to dry heave into the bathtub.

Loki, hearing the sound of pain, quickly rushed into the washroom, kneeling down to hold you gently, “My love, why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Ah…tell you what my love?” you grabbed the cloth beside you, covering your mouth so as to not bring disgust to him by your vomit. 

“You’re with child aren’t you?” Loki said out of breath, being so overjoyed and proud that he was to be a father soon.

Hearing him finally figure it out brought tears to your eyes as you nodded, “Yes….yes….” you chuckled, slowly grabbing his hand with your free one and placed it gently on your bump. 

Loki, feeling your bump and then a kick, brought soft tears to his eyes as well. “Oh my love, why didn’t you tell me before?” 

“I didn’t want to bother you my love, you were so busy as it is, and I was as well with my royal duties.” “Besides I was going to tell you tonight, in our bed together, so that I could cuddle up close to you and….tell you that I was pregnant.” 

“You do not need to worry about my stress y/n, that is my duty, your only duty is to be happy and comfortable” He smiled, cupping your cheek gently and pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Oh, I’m going to be a father….what joy.” 

“I’m sorry that I did not….oh dear!” you gasped, turning to your side and dry heaving into the bathtub once again. 

“Oh y/n” Loki worriedly spoke as he rubbed your back gently to help you. “You need not to apologize.” “All you need to do now is relax, I am going to make sure that your royal duties fall upon me.” “And do not fret, I will have enough time to be by your side.” 

“Thank you my love, but I need to be in bed now…” you sighed in pain, turning towards him to give him such innocent and weak eyes.

Loki, seeing the state of you, brought a shatter to his heart. He felt horrid that he wasn’t there from the beginning to help you feel better. But at least now he can be by your side for the time being and help you feel as comfortable as possible. “Come my darling, let me help you.”

“But I’m heavy,” you joked. 

“Nonsense” he smiled, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear and then picking you up bridal style. “Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed in comfortable clothing.”

As he exited the bathroom, Frigga noticed how her son was carrying you, knowing very well that he had raised him well; she felt so proud of him. 

After a few minutes, you were dressed, cleaned up, and already in bed, wrapped up all nice and warm. “This feels so much better” you sighed happily. 

“Does it?” he chuckled as he pulled off his royal attire, and then stood there with no shirt, and simple pants that outlined his elegant yet delicious legs. 

“My, you do look ravishing Loki” You giggled, a blush covering your cheeks. 

“Do I now?” He spoke cockily, slowly walking over to approach you and then carefully crawled onto you. “You know that’s my line to speak my love” he chuckled, softly cupping your cheeks and bringing you into a deep kiss. 

“Mm darling, be gentle with me, you know I’m carrying your daughter” You teased him. 

“Daughter?!” he gasped with eyes wide open when he pulled away from the kiss. 

Hearing his shock brought a loud chuckle to your lips, quickly pulling him back in for a kiss to silence him as you both consummated once again.