#threads | loki laufeyson

[voluntadfuerte]

@mxrvelouscreations | continued

M/F Spicy Gif Starters / #4A

Steve hadn't meant for it to happen. He'd gotten lost in the moment, in the feeling of Loki clenching around him that he had came before he could pull out. Gripping onto the other's hip, he let out a soft groan before looking down to see his cum now leaking from his lover's core. "Loki... we might have a problem.."

Loki was moaning, feeling good as Steve thrusted in them from behind. Steve was so perfect in them, no matter their form. They moaned loudly, encouraging Steve, as they felt their orgasm rising, their pussy clenching. And then felt warmth as Steve groaned. "How bad is it?" they asked.

[voluntadfuerte]

They definitely were amused by the sight of Amora. Someone whose magic perhaps was better than theirs, not that they would admit to it. "Haven't you heard? I'm the God of Stories now, not of Mischief. I'm no longer a trickster." While the first part was true, that didn't mean they weren't a trickster anymore. Despite choosing a more honourable path, they would still remain a trickster.

✨ ───── her lips curled as she looked towards the dark haired trickster before her. "well look who it is." she sang softly as she raised her brow and there was a glint in her eyes that suggested she was looking for something .... fun. should that appear out of something, who better to push than loki? "if it isn't my favourite trickster."

@voluntadfuerte ♥ for a starter from amora for loki

[scores-of-antiheroes]

@marvelmyriad [Loki Laufeyson]

Sigourney Mereanne Pryde, daughter to the Star Lord, Peter Quill, and Earth mutant hero, Kitty Pryde the Shadowcat. Now due to her very unique heritage, her mutation...well it mutated beyond that of her mother's and took on astro properties. For instance, and this would be a good time to tell you of this ability because this situation deals with this one. Sigourney's mutation was simply called Quantum Tunneling, even though there is nothing simple about it. It's basically the same as her mother's but on a really weird levels, in the used lightly it works exactly like her mother's powers, when used more potently it opens a quantum tunnel to a place the wielder can visualize and that mixed with her father's Universal Knowledge & Cosmic Awareness it made it really hard to keep Sigourney in one place for too long. That is unless you ground her mech suit, apply called Queen, which her folks did. So that just means things get a little more.....chaotic. Sigourney has so much less control of her quantum tunneling when she is outside of Queen but that never stopped her before. Sigourney stood back in her father's hanger bay on New Spartax. She held her hands out and reached like she was reaching out for a wall but toward the air, calming herself, slowing her breathing, trying to use some of those Earth techniques that connect you to the universe or some shit. A wave of ethereal energy rippled around in front of Sigourney's hands, making it seem like reality was a shimmered reflection in a once calm pound. Sigourney patted her dad's old elemental guns attached to her hips, scuffing her boots on the ground checking the rocket boot attachments. Sigourney took a deep breath in and stepped forward into the ripple, and into a swirl of information attached to her cosmic connections, it about made her sick. Then just as suddenly it stopped and she was stumbling into somewhere. Sigourney looked around waiting for her eyes to focus. "Where the hell am I?"

[godstrayed]

open starter ╱ inspired by various songs. non-mutuals welcomed. open to f/m/nb. we can plot it or wing it, idc.

　IT DOESN'T SUIT HIM. At least, not in a way he likes. This terribly fragile feeling makes him all too mortal. Is this what it means to behold humanity and succumb to it? Was Loki victim to the plights of man no more than a fool was to self indulgence? A crime, really. "We complete each other in the nastiest, ugliest possible way." And yet, he could not change it. How he felt about them.

[marvehled]

ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ   sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ.       ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ   ʟᴏᴋɪ   &   ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀ   ᴄʜᴀᴠᴇᴢ.

⸻                 ᴡʜᴇɴ   ᴛʜᴇ   sᴛᴀʀ-ᴋɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ   ʜᴇʀᴏ   ғɪʀsᴛ   ᴍᴇᴛ   ʟᴏᴋɪ,   ɪᴛ   ᴡᴀs   ɪɴsᴛᴀɴᴛʟʏ   ᴀɴᴛᴀɢᴏɴɪsᴛɪᴄ.   when   you   go   around   tampering   with   dimensions   constantly   and   being   a   constant   trickster   who   can't   be   trusted,   you   earn   the   ire   of   america   pretty   quickly.   and   loki's   bared   it   from   various   instances.   but   behind   the   trickery   and   duplicity,   chavez   had   seen   peaks   of   a   loki   that   was   surprisingly   genuine,   and   as   much   as   they   hated   to   admit   it,   america   couldn't   see   loki   as   a   pure   enemy.   after   all,   they   were   teammates   for   a   short   while.   still,   they'd   be   a   fool   not   to   suspect   the   norse   trickster.   ❛   chico,   why   are   you   always   at   the   scene   of   the   crime   ?   ❜    america   raises   a   brow   as   they   hop   down   from   a   neighboring   building,   ground   shaking   a   bit   as   they   crack   their   neck   with   a   raised   brow.   ❛   gonna   tell   me   this   one   isn't   on   you   ?   ❜   that   wasn't   likely,   but   the   one   time   that   it   wasn't   loki-caused,   they'd   be   wrong,   so   they   hold   a   sliver   of   belief. 

@lowkeystoryteller.

[wallcrawlparker]

@deceitfultrickry plotted starter with Peter's Lokison verse!

The combat had been pretty intense, let alone confusing. Not only was the team clearly outnumbered, they were also not on their home turf and in full-blown blizzard mode. That wouldn't usually be a huge deal as most of the team was enhanced and/or bundled up in self-heating gear and literal heaters.

But Peter.... Peter's got spider DNA, and spiders can't thermoregulate. He'd been hypothermic a few times just from patrolling in the winter, so... when the youngest teammate didn't answer the call to regroup, panic immediately sparked.

Mostly, it was Tony flipping his shit, panicking about how the kid's not dressed for this and his suit's tracker must be damaged and he could be anywhere!

What Tony doesn't know, though, is that Peter had been in extreme cold before. Once he goes past his enhanced-human threshold and his life is endangered by the cold, he.... goes blue. Literally, yeah. He goes blue. His (unknown) paternal heritage saves his life, literally, by morphing him into his frost giant form. Not that he knows that. It's only happened once before and... well, he figured he must have just been seeing shit. Anyway. While the team freaked out and seemed to forget they had a literal Frost Giant/Norse God on their team currently, Peter was a few kilometres meters away, halfway buried in snow after a particularly hard blow to the head knocked him out, taking out some of his suit's gear; including the tracker.

[boundless-iridescence]

Random Asks | Always Open

@demonofchaos asked: Asgard, 2011.

Nyx Lokisdottir was a strange child. She knew it. The horns and devil tail she had were from a strange mix of genetics. Her mother being the daughter of Hades, and a demon, and her father being a frost giant. But she never let other peoples opinions get to her. The nine year old was raised better. She was better. She had to be better. She was the Princess of Asgard. Yet she was still a child. She had less responsibilities than the adults in her family. But she was always there. She never really got time to herself. She was always being watched in some way. Whether it was by a Guard or her family. Her parents were extremely loving. She loved her mother and father. She was especially close with her father, though. She loved when Loki would read to her, or show her his magic. Despite having so much…Nyx was lonely. The other children do not seem to like her, aside from her one friend. So Nyx made a decision to leave Asgard from time to time. Maybe find a place where she won’t be judged for what she is.

On this particular morning, Nyx was very very bored. The young princess had finished her studies and wandered the hall aimlessly. She had managed to avoid her guards. She didn’t see why she needed them. She was nine. She wasn’t helpless, either. She had her own powers. She could just use her magic. She knew she would likely get in trouble for running off through the halls. But she couldn’t help it. Did everyone just expect her to sit around and do nothing all the time? That was lame..and boring.

Nyx wanted to see what her Uncle was doing. She could bother him if she so chooses. But she also knew he was fairly busy preparing for his upcoming role as king. As well as saving the Nine realms. He was very important and busy. Nyx wanted to grow up and be just as cool as important someday. No matter what anyone says, she would do it. Nyx spotted her father, finally. She tugged on his cape. “Daddy. Daddy.” She chirped. She wanted his attention.

Loki had been deep in the library as was his best position when it came to the stirring events of the Kingdom. Thor's coronation would be coming sooner rather than latter, and not for the first time, and as it were, Loki still felt another delay was needed. Not that the delay before had been...entirely intentional. But, now? Thor was a great warrior, a decent hearted Asgardian at his core, and an admirable person that Loki adored. However...when he looked to his brother, he did not yet see a King. He saw a man too ready for a throne, without any thought for what that throne will bring.

And Loki bore the weight of seemingly being the ONLY one to be aware of such. So, his wits and his knowledge would be his tools, to find his way to delay yet again. If he could not manage to teach Thor, he would do what he could to save the realm.

But he heard the pitter patter of feet, a sound he was very familiar with. Adorned in his regal wear after just participating in a meeting (participating being a generous term as he more simply sat there to be present), he looked down with a grin that grew and spilled warmth at a rapid pace. As the young girl tugged at his cape, he easily set aside his study material, and knelt down.

His dear daughter, precious and beautiful, had the look of restlessness. He knew it well. She was supposed to be committing to her studies with her tutors and guards, but he imagined she must've grown bored. Sometimes, she was far too like him. He scooped her up with a soft chuckle, standing once more.

"Yes, my dear? And just what are you doing? Running about by yourself again?"

[aamusedly]

❛ if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were jealous. ❜ @ loki

"Jealous? Of what?"

"Your castles, your vacation homes, your fame and popularity? Your network of people who would kill and die for you at a moment's notice out of nothing but loyalty and kindness? Perhaps the notoriety of heroism and goodness, of those looking up to you for solutions to their woes like some sort of noble godhead? That you can walk into a public place and receive an applause rather than someone's errant fruit rinds? Your charm, your sense of humor, your long-lasting relationships? Your ability to grow perfectly coiffed facial hair?"

The hands on his hips said it more than all of his many, many words could.

"No. I'm a King, actually, I'm not jealous of anyone."

[floral-flames]

【   ✴.   ⸻   ⤖ .Loki Laufeyson.   】             It was more so a scuff then a eyeroll that came from the god, more so a simple shrug than a nod as he listened to the other speak- as the words endless flowed from their lips. Loki for one did enjoy to talk, but even this was causing a mild headache to from whilst he reached to massage the sides of his skull.

Surely there was much better things that needed to be done aside from standing here for what seemed like decades -a little dramatic yes- listening to endless mumbling of whatever the hell the other was speaking of.

"I am going to stop you here, for you are making no sense and I am growing tired of this conversation"

[voluntadfuerte]

@mxrvelouscreations | your muse thinks mine is beautiful | accepting

Loki was wearing Tony's shirt and only his shirt. Which, in their female form, arrived right under their butt. It was from one of those bands that Tony enjoyed and Loki tolerated for Tony's sake. Iron Maiden. Which in this case, was rather accurate. Being the maiden of Iron Man. Tony's arms around them as they were preparing coffee. Tony was obsessed with that drink. "Keep complimenting me, Stark. But that coffee is not coming quicker." They weren't going to use magic this time. They would let Tony wait.

[angelremnants]

Of Stormbound Hearts l L. Laufeyson

summary : In the midst of a storm of emotions and unspoken longing, two souls collide in a moment that blurs the line between desire and fear. The tension between them disguised under quarrels has been building for months, and when it finally unravels, neither can escape the pull of what they’ve both denied for so long. But as their connection deepens, so do the questions. Will they be able to handle the storm they've created, or will it consume them?

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (+16), intense emotional tension, physical intimacy, angst to eventual fluff, vulnerability, character conflict, suggestive content. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 4.8k

author's notes : This is loosely tied to my A Tales Of series—which is why there is no previous plot explaining what led to their dispute—but can be read as a stand alone.

(ao3 version)

The dimly lit room trembled under the weight of unspoken words. Tension hummed like a taut wire, each breath drawn amplifying the storm raging outside the windows. Thunder cracked sharply, rattling the walls like an impatient herald of unresolved truths. Yet neither of them blamed Thor for the horrid weather—after all, he had fled the chaos of their ongoing quarrel, retreating to find solace a few doors away.

The argument had collapsed into a suffocating silence. The air between them was raw and electric, sparking with the aftershock of words that could not be taken back. Loki’s composure was shattered, a pale reflection of his usual elegance. His chest rose and fell unevenly, dark locks falling across his face in wild disarray, evidence of his frustrated hands. His arms hung stiff at his sides, fingers twitching with restrained fury, the kind of control that seemed like a punishment, as though it physically pained him to keep from destroying something—anything.

[Y/N] fared no better. She tugged tightly at her hands behind her back, a futile effort to quell her trembling. Although her voice had been quieter than his during their shouting match, the magnitude of their confrontation rippled through her like an unstoppable tide, leaving her breathless.

She wanted to say something cutting, to twist the knife just enough to force him to react. But his silence unnerved her. The tension in his body and the way his chest rose and fell unevenly—it wasn’t anger. Not entirely.

“What now, Loki?” Her voice sliced through the quiet, intransigent and bitter. “Another lecture about how I’ve derailed your grand, masterful plans?”

He stood motionless, his silhouette framed by the storm’s flickering light. His shoulders were tense, rigid beneath the weight of everything he didn’t say. [Y/N] shot daggers at his back, daring him to respond. The distance between them felt impossibly vast yet suffocatingly small.

“Are you going to speak?” she pressed, her words razor-sharp. “Or is this the part where you brood in silence, as if the world owes you something? How very godlike of you.” Her tone dripped with mockery.

His muscles tensed at the provocation, every inch of him vibrating with restrained energy. The air around him grew thick, crackling with the kind of dangerous power she recognized all too well. Her instincts screamed at her to retreat, to stop provoking the storm brewing before her, but a deeper, reckless part of her pushed forward, daring to test the limits—perhaps as a way to prove to herself that she could withstand it.

Yet instead of unleashing his fury, he closed his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath, as though the very act of restraint was excruciating.

“You think this is a game?” His voice was low, trembling with barely restrained anger. “Do you think I stand here, unraveling because it amuses me? Don’t mock me, [Y/N]. I am holding on by a thread.”

The vulnerability laced through his fury struck her like a lightning bolt, but she wouldn’t let him see it. Folding her arms, she threw his anger back at him with a defiant glare.

“Control. That’s all you care about, isn’t it? Your fragile ego.” She scoffed bitterly, crossing her arms to mask the nervous tremor in her fingers. “Honestly, Loki, if you’re so desperate for control, maybe you should stop being so insufferable—”

His head fell forward slightly, his sharp laughter echoing bitterly around the room. The sound was devoid of joy, just a hollow crack in the façade he fought to maintain. 

“Stop.” He abruptly turned to her, his eyes unyielding and blazing with darkness. The storm within him mirrored the one outside, each word trembling with unrestrained venom. His lips curled into a joyless smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. The shadows carved harsh lines into his face, and his gaze burned with a fury that made her pulse quicken.

“You ruin everything,” he snarled, taking a step toward her. The intensity in his gaze forced her to take an involuntary step back. “Every plan. Every strategy. Every ounce of control I’ve fought to keep. You invade my thoughts, my dreams, my every waking moment.” He laughed bitterly, his voice trembling with fury and despair. “You don’t get it, do you? How maddening, how utterly unbearable you’ve made this for me. You’ve undone me, [Y/N]. Me! The God of Lies, of Mischief, reduced to this—this pathetic shadow.”

Her defiance faltered. There was no venom in his words, only a bone-deep frustration and something else—something raw and unspoken.

"Please don't do this," she warned, her voice now softer. But he wasn't paying attention.

"Do you know what it’s like? To crave someone so deeply that it consumes you?" Loki continued, his voice cracking slightly. He stepped closer, the heat radiating from him palpable now. "To loathe them for it? To want to destroy them because it would be easier than feeling this—this madness?"

[Y/N]'s anger wavered in the face of his raw emotion. She noticed his hands twitching at his sides, his fingers curling into fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His brow furrowed, veins straining visibly beneath his skin, as if his emotions were about to burst forth. The tremble in his voice betrayed the turmoil he fought to contain.

"You terrify me, [Y/N]." His voice softened, and for the first time, she saw the cracks in his façade. The vulnerability he had buried so deeply now spilled over. "You've taken the one thing I've always had—control. And you've destroyed it without even trying. I hate you for it. I despise your existence."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and the armor she had so carefully built around herself began to fracture. It felt like a physical blow, a sharp breath escaping her as if she had been struck in the solar plexus.

"Then leave," she whispered, her voice thin and brittle. The word felt like ash on her tongue. "If I’m such a burden, leave."

"Do you think I haven't tried?" His voice was a mix of anguish and fury. "I have fought gods, defied realms, burned my own bridges to the ground in the name of my freedom—and yet, I can’t walk away. I am shackled, chained to this unbearable ache that you've submitted to me."

[Y/N]'s heart hammered in her chest as his words sank in, each one unraveling the control she thought she had. She had believed herself to be the one in charge, teasing him, testing his limits. But now, faced with the depth of his emotions, she realized how little she truly understood him.

“Loki…” Her voice trembled, softer now, filled with uncertainty. 

“No. Let me finish. Let me finish,” he insisted, his voice shaking with a mix of rage and vulnerability that gleamed in his eyes. “You will hear this—I deserve the least of it. You infuriate me,” he growled, suppressing emotion as he took a strained breath, pressing a trembling hand to his chest as if in pain. “Because you’ve invaded every part of me. You’ve stripped me bare, torn me apart.” 

He took a step closer, the heat of his body almost overpowering her train of thoughts. [Y/N]’s back pressed against the wall, and as she opened her mouth to reply, no words came out. The tension in the room was suffocating, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. 

“I hate it,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I hate how much I need you, how much I—” He broke off, his words choking in his throat. “I can’t even hate you properly, [Y/N]. I’ve tried. I’ve tried everything. This burning torment consumes me every time I look at you, every time I hear your voice and know I can never—” He exhaled suddenly, as though the admission physically pained him. Lowering his head, he gripped his hip with his other hand as if to steady himself. “You make me feel like I’m falling apart from the inside out. You haunt my thoughts, [Y/N]. It hurts, and it bewilders me beyond recovery to hear you call for me, to hear you say my name.” 

The storm outside roared, and the lightning illuminated his face as he towered over her, his forehead nearly brushing hers. The tremor in his hands pressed against the wall on either side of her, trapping her without making contact. 

“I am weak, and you are the one thing I cannot resist. It pains me, irritates me, and yet—and yet, I crave it. I crave you.” 

She stared at him, rendered speechless, as the weight of his emotions crashed over them. His hands trembled at his sides, and his voice dropped to a near whisper. 

“I’ve known nothing but pain and suffering my whole life, but never have I suffered like this. Every moment I’m near you is agony,” he confessed, his breath warm against her cheek. “But every moment I’m away is worse.” 

He pursed his lips, his throat constricting as if swallowing the pain. Then, slowly, almost as though it was the last shred of his pride slipping away, he sank to his knees before her.

His shoulders slumped forward in silent surrender, as if his pride and strength had been stripped away in that single motion. [Y/N]'s heart raced as she saw him like this—so proud, so untouchable—now laid bare and vulnerable.

"I am begging you," Loki murmured, his voice trembling. "On my knees, if that’s what it takes. Tell me to leave." He shut his eyes tightly, as if even the thought of it would scar him. "If you feel nothing, say the word, and I will disappear from your life, no matter how much it kills me. But if there is even the smallest chance that you..." He stopped, his voice breaking completely as he looked up at her, his stormy green eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"If you feel even a fraction of what I feel for you... please, [Y/N]. Please. End this. Free me from this torment—or let me stay as I am. It would be an honor if you could accept me as such." He swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I am already painfully yours. But I beg you, please, tell me what to do."

For a long moment, the only sound was the storm, echoing the chaos between them. [Y/N] stood over him, and for the first time, she saw him—not as a god, not as an agent of chaos, not even as her acolyte, but as a being, raw and vulnerable, utterly at her mercy. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy with unrestrained emotion, making her heart race—and, shamefully, stirring something deep inside her.

"I..." she started, her voice barely a whisper, but Loki shook his head. His hands curled into fists against the earth as he slowly lifted his gaze, stormy green eyes locking onto hers. "No," he breathed, his voice thick with anguish. "If you’re going to reject me, say it directly—don’t give me hope first."

[Y/N]'s heart felt heavy, a tight knot forming in her throat as Loki's words cut through the air like a cold breeze. Each syllable lingered, wrapping around her like a shroud and igniting a tumult of emotions within her. She hesitated for a moment before brushing her fingers over his trembling shoulders. She couldn’t stand to see him like this. He had always been a god of power and control—and now, he was breaking in front of her.

"Loki," she whispered, her voice low but steady, "please, don’t kneel. Get up. It pains me to see you like this." But like a child being reprimanded, Loki shook his head categorically, his body rigid with refusal. His hands clenched into fists against the earth.

"Look at me, Mischief," [Y/N] said softly, her tone coaxing, as though her voice alone could undo the weight crushing him. Her hands hovered for a moment before finally resting on his trembling shoulders—gentle but firm. "You don’t belong on your knees. Not before anyone, and certainly not before me."

His jaw tightened, and he averted his eyes, an abashed expression crossing his face like a shadow. How wrong was she, not to know that it was one of the finest luxuries in all of the realms for him to be found in such a compromising position for her. Only for her.

Sighing, she resigned to match his position and lowered herself to her knees in response. Her fingers rose to his face, cupping his cheeks with a tenderness he wasn’t sure he deserved. Though he didn’t return her gaze—probably out of shame, judging by the flush staining his alabaster cheeks—[Y/N] could see the turmoil in his eyes, mirroring her own.

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she tried to steady herself. Yet, even in the overwhelming intensity of the moment, a mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes, and a small, teasing smile curled at the corners of her lips. Leaning in slightly, she brushed her fingers lightly against his temple before flicking his forehead. “You really do have a way with words, don’t you? Twisting my thoughts around like one of your tricks.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed, flickering with a mix of disbelief and indignation. His mouth opened, a protest forming on his tongue, but it faltered. He exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion. His jaw tightened as he looked away, his hands clenching against his knees. Yet, even in his silence, a small tremor betrayed him—enough to reveal the cracks in the armor he so desperately tried to maintain.

[Y/N] sighed softly, leaning closer, her breath brushing against his cheek as she tilted her head just enough to meet his gaze again. “You’re impossible, Loki,” she murmured, her tone quieter now, almost tender. “Completely and utterly impossible.”

With that, Loki’s walls crumbled. His head fell gently onto her shoulder as his body surrendered to the weight of his emotions. He was spent, utterly drained, and [Y/N] held him close, her heart pounding in her chest. Her hands slid through his hair, fingers gently brushing through the tangled mess as a soft gesture of comfort. She glided her hands down his back, letting the tips of her nails graze his spine before tracing back up, repeating the process; each touch sent shivers of pleasure through him.

“You’re cruel,” Loki huffed with dry humor, his voice barely audible yet tinged with something like relief.

[Y/N] let out a soft laugh, her lips brushing the crown of his head. “If anything, I think you’re the cruel one for making me care this much,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “You push, you pull… you twist me into knots, Loki. And still…” She paused. “Still, here I am.”

His breath hitched at her words, his body taut beneath her touch. Slowly, she pulled back, cupping his face once more. Her thumbs grazed his cheekbones as her eyes roamed over his features—the furrow in his brow, the way his lips trembled slightly, the flush on his alabaster skin.

“Honestly, I should be the one angry with you, Mischief,” she said, her voice softer now but laced with frustration. “I never did anything wrong, yet you let it all spill onto me—your anger, your pain. You teased me, belittled me, and made me feel like I didn’t matter. And yet, here you are, breaking down in my arms and asking me to understand.”

Her words cut through him, and he swallowed hard, the storm in his eyes flickering with uncertainty. With a sigh, [Y/N]’s expression softened, her lips twitching into a small, understanding smile. “But you’re a beautiful soul, Loki—complicated, yes, but beautiful all the same. And I can’t help but be pulled in.”

A shudder ran through him at her words, his vulnerability deepening. For a moment, he looked as though he might shatter entirely.

[Y/N] melted into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and tangling her fingers in his hair. She leaned into him, intoxicated by his warmth, her lips brushing over the shell of his ear. “I want you to look at me, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice low and commanding.

Loki’s sharp intake of breath betrayed his surprise, his stormy eyes snapping up to meet hers. His reluctance was palpable, a flicker of resistance flashing through his gaze, but he obeyed nonetheless, the weight of her words rolled onto him.

Her teasing nature returned, a sly smile tugging at her lips as she pulled back slightly. Her thumb grazed his jaw, her touch soft and deliberate as her gaze roamed over his face. She admired every detail, letting her fingers trace his lips, cheekbones, and the curve of his jaw.

Loki's breath caught in his throat, her words cutting through the veil of confusion and tension that had clouded his mind. He buzzed with delight under the weight of her gaze and the soft but insistent touch of her fingers; it was almost too much to bear. Battling to stay still, he fought against the urge to jump on her and ravage her senseless for speaking those words and treating him like he was the finest ornament.

She replaced her hands in their original positions and brushed her eyes over his face, taking it all in. Loki’s features were a portrait she wished she could engrave in her mind forever. His brow furrowed slightly, expressing the intensity of his emotions and uncertainties. His lips, which she teasingly traced with her thumb, parted in a shallow, desperate breath, trembling ever so slightly as if on the verge of confessing something left unsaid, although everything had already been spoken. The sharp, high points of his cheekbones, usually so regal, now appeared softer, flushed a deep crimson from a mix of vulnerability and desire. A single drop of sweat traced down the side of his face, catching the light and adding to the tension in his gaze—and oh, those eyes.

His eyes, darkened with longing, swirled with a storm within—flickers of green shimmered with desperation, burning with desire and uncertainty. The depths of his irises seemed to pull her in, reflecting not only his internal struggle but also his raw need to be seen and understood, and more importantly, for her to accept him wholly. Beneath the intensity, she could sense the vulnerability in his eyes, attracting her like would a siren song.

[Y/N]’s fingers glided down the length of Loki’s neck, lightly grazing his skin as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. The faint teasing smile on her lips never faded, even as she sensed the tension building in his body, each gentle touch adding to the pressure. She reveled in the way he reacted to her every move. It was a delicate game, a playful form of payback for the emotional torment he had caused her during their journey, and perhaps a way to steady herself against her growing desire to close the distance between them entirely.

Her thumb traced his jaw, her fingers lingering near his lips, as if daring him to break the silence. The heat between them thickened, charged with unspoken need. For a fleeting moment, she almost forgot his boundaries, lost in the thrill of the game and definitely too enthralled by the gorgeous being in front of her.

However, she failed to notice the shift in his posture. The practiced stillness that once defined him wavered, giving way to a sense of danger. His breath hitched, and his mind snapped back to the person he truly was. The weight of his identity surged through him like a tidal wave, breaking the fragile restraint he had been maintaining. His breath came in short, shallow bursts, and his eyes burned with a warning she failed to heed.

In that moment, she overlooked the reality that she was not dealing with an obedient being, but a depraved and hedonistic god who always took what he wanted. A god whose desires were as boundless as his patience was fragile.

In a flash, Loki shot out his hands, seizing her wrists and yanking them away from his face. His grip was firm and unyielding, forcing her to pause as she felt the rising tension in his body, with barely contained fury simmering beneath the surface.

“Enough,” he growled softly, a whisper of danger hanging heavily in the air. [Y/N] blinked, momentarily stunned by the shift in his demeanor. She found herself captivated by the intensity of his gaze, unaware that his restraint had snapped and his longing had surged to the surface all at once. Hunger radiated from him—raw and primal—as his hands tightened around her wrists, pulling her closer with an urgency born of days filled with loneliness and yearning. The heat between them burned brighter, almost unbearable, as the space between their faces dwindled.

“You should know better than to toy with a god,” he warned, his voice thick with desperation, sending shivers down her spine. [Y/N] leaned in slowly, her lips hovering just a breath away from his. Her warm breath teased him, a subtle dare to close the distance. But at the last moment, she hesitated. Something inside her faltered—not out of fear, but from an instinct to stretch the moment, to savor the tension. She drew back ever so slightly, her lashes fluttering as she caught her breath.

The flicker of hesitation was his breaking point. A low, feral sound escaped his throat as his hands moved swiftly, cradling her face with a reverence that trembled with need.

He surged forward, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was both relentless and heartbreakingly tender. It was fierce and all-consuming, as if every ounce of his pent-up longing was poured into that single moment. She thought she heard him sigh in relief as he pulled her closer, as if the weight of their shared emotions connected them in a way that words never could.

His trembling hands released her wrists, one sliding to the nape of her neck, the other tracing down her silhouette before settling at her waist, pulling her firmly onto his lap. Their bodies aligned, his center flush against hers.

[Y/N] tried to speak, to say something—anything—but the words were trapped in her throat, lost in the overwhelming intensity of his kiss. His lips were insistent, each press a force that left no room for thought, only the sensation of him, of this. Each kiss felt like a claim, a demand she couldn’t resist. Her breath caught in her chest, and before she realized it, her arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair as his kiss deepened.

Her mind raced faster than her heartbeat, torn between the fire of his touch and the fear gnawing at her insides. How did we get here? she wondered, her fingers pausing against his skin as confusion tugged at her thoughts. Is this what I’ve been waiting for? The line between longing and fear blurred in her chest. She felt herself being pulled deeper into his orbit, yet a quiet voice in the back of her mind warned her not to lose herself in this moment.

“Loki...” she whispered, her voice heavy with the vulnerability she could no longer conceal. But before she could finish her sentence, his lips claimed hers once more, and she found herself powerless to resist. He couldn’t stop; his mouth moved over hers with a desperate passion, and she surrendered to him, lacking the strength to pull away. 

"Don't pull away," he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with emotion. "Not now, please."

The world outside their embrace faded away, leaving only the sensation of his lips against hers and the heat of his body seeping into hers. She could feel his heart racing in his chest, pounding as fast as her own. Every kiss was a question, and every touch confirmed that neither of them could walk away from this—no matter how much they might want to, and no matter how much fear lingered in the back of their minds.

[Y/N] felt a flicker of doubt—she knew she should stop, should hold back, but the pull of him was stronger than anything she had ever known. The quiet voice in her mind warned her not to lose herself, but it was drowned out by the heat building between them, a magnetic force neither could deny.

She could feel his pulse racing in his fingertips as they traced the line of her spine, grounding her in the whirlwind of emotions. Everything around them seemed to be speeding up, charged with an urgent, desperate energy that neither of them could control. For a fleeting moment, she understood: this wasn’t just about passion; it was something deeper, something they couldn’t articulate. It was months of tension and longing finally unraveling between them.

When they gently separated, their bodies reluctant to lose the closeness, Loki still had the clarity, even amidst the storm of his desires, to give her space. His forehead brushed against hers, and their breaths mingled as they both tried to steady the rapid beating of their hearts. Loki’s hands lingered on her skin, holding the moment without pulling her back immediately. There was a vulnerability in that—a tenderness within his hunger.

[Y/N]'s heart pounded against her chest, the rhythm echoing in her ears as she gazed into his eyes. There was a quiet intensity there, a storm brewing in the depths, and she knew, with a terrifying clarity, that neither of them could walk away from this. Not now. Not ever.

Loki whispered, his voice raw and desperate, "Stay." The word was barely a breath against her lips. It wasn’t a request; it was an unspoken promise, a silent vow.

Her cheeks flushed deeply as she felt the weight of his gaze and the heat between them. Timidly, she nodded, her lips parting in a barely audible "Yes"—a whisper of surrender. The vulnerability of her gesture only spurred him on.

Without a word, Loki's lips found hers again, his kiss more urgent than before, as if claiming what was now his. His touch was demanding and desperate, overflowing with everything he had kept buried. It wasn’t a tender kiss; it was a claim, a release for all he had confined within. It burned with the intensity of their unspoken words, consumed by the hunger they could no longer deny.

He took everything she offered, his lips moving hungrily against hers, ragged with desire. His hands roamed her body with a reverence that spoke of months of longing. One hand slid back to the nape of her neck, while the other traced the curve of her waist, stationing to their rightful places, savoring how their bodies were leaving no space between them.

[Y/N] felt a stronger pull towards him than ever before. As she surrendered to his embrace, she realized there was no turning back. She let her instincts guide her and continued to kiss him, her focus narrowing to the sensations of his lips, his touch, and his breath.

His hands trembled as he gripped her tighter, sliding over her curves, anchoring himself to the reality of her touch. He explored with deliberate slowness, tracing the length of her spine and backside, teasing as she had done to him earlier. He relished in this an unspoken dance of hunger and need, in the feeling of her fluttering eyelashes against his cheeks, the thundering beats of her pulsing heart under his palm, the shared heat as their bodies almost united as one. 

She tugged at his hair, attempting to slow him— but oh, he couldn't, not now, not anymore. He groaned, unrelenting, lost in the feeling of her. He was too far gone, too hooked up on the feeling and the taste of her sweet lips. He shuddered pleasurably when he chased her mouth even as she gasped for air, even when he too needed to breathe.

It felt as though he could travel to Hel and back with the fire in his veins, ignited by the scent and taste of her. She only spurring him further when she bit his lip and gratified his back by raking her nails down. A low growl rumbled deep in his chest as he shifted his grip and lifted his hips in reflex, pressing against her with relentless hunger.

When they finally broke apart, both gasping for oxygen, Loki's forehead rested against her temple. His breathing was uneven, and his hands still trembled from the raging storm inside him as they lingered on her skin. Although his grip loosened, the raw intensity remained, demonstrated by the furrow of his eyebrows in pleasure.

"Careful," he rasped moments after with his voice hoarse, having taken his time to clear his mind a bit from the foggy sensation in the febrile hope he could somewhat behave himself not to go rampant. He backed away to admire his handiwork, his eyes roaming over her to appreciate the flush in her cheeks, the pink of her swollen lips, and the dazed look in her eyes. "You've already tested my patience. Keep this up, and I won't hold back."

[Y/N]’s heart thundered, her body vibrating with exhilaration and need. A small sly smile tugged at her lips as she leaned forward, biting his lip once more in defiance. Loki’s control slipped further. With a swift motion, he pulled her down against the concrete of the ground, his lips finding hers again in a renewed storm of desire.

The storm hadn't passed. It had only just begun.

ending note : I honestly almost turned it into a smut— almost. It was tempting, but I haven't reached that level yet.

Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

dividers ©️ @strangergraphics-archive + @enchanthings .

angelremnants ©️ 2024. All rights reserved. Do not repost, reproduce, or distribute without explicit permission.

[wallcrawlparker]

continued from here for @benevolentgodloki

"I mean, sure... But you were controlled, and stuff. So, it'd be kinda hypocritical to forgive Mister Bucky and not you."

Peter thought this was basic logic, while most of the Avengers still disliked Loki, refusing to trust him in the least. Peter... well, he's pure like that. Hard to dislike, easy to love.

"Plus, Mister Stark wouldn't let you be here if he didn't agree with me."

[voluntadfuerte]

@mxrvelouscreations | your muse thinks mine is beautiful | accepting

Loki was usually self-concious. Their confidence and desire for grandeur a façade from the way Asgard looked down on them all of their life. An aspect of themself they weren't confident about was their Jotunn form. Steve asked to see it and Loki wanted to please the man they loved. So much of themself they laid bare for Steve. His affection ripping down walls around their heart that built over the years. Steve laying on the bed with Loki in front of him. If not for their blue skin, a blush would appear on their face. "You look beautiful as well," they said. They magically put Steve in an emerald silk robe and a golden lace underwear. They themself were only wearing a fur jacket. Their hard member fully visible for Steve.

[angelremnants]

A TALES OF.. l Tides and Mishaps

OR.. After your strange ordeal, you find yourself brought to Asgard, where you're to face a trial for your unusual bond with your necklace. With Loki forcing his company onto you, you both go through a tense encounter that leaves both of you soaked, disheveled and wondering what will happen next.

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (+16), mild suggestive content, power dynamics, flirtation and teasing, unresolved sexual tension, mild language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 11.4k

author's notes : I am back, baby! Finally finished with my exams, and we're celebrating with this ficlet! It adds more depth to the series' lore while sprinkling in some playful moments. Writing this felt essential to set the stage for the spicy plot I’ve been itching to dive into. Stay tuned—it’s coming soon!

NEW ! — Find the continuation here.⠀(18+—MDNI.)

(ao3 version)

The Bifrost roared to life, a maelstrom of light and sound that seemed to swallow the world whole. For one heart-stopping moment, [Y/N] felt weightless, as though the very air had been torn from her lungs. And then, just as suddenly, it was over.

Her feet hit solid ground, though it didn’t feel it as much—it didn’t have the same firmness as Earth’s soil. The surface beneath her was smooth, crystalline, and alive with shifting colors. She stumbled slightly, catching herself against the closest steady presence, which just so happened to be Loki.

“Do try to stay upright,” he drawled, steadying her with a hand on her arm before stepping back with exaggerated grace.

[Y/N] blinked, regaining her balance as she fixed him with a glare. “You could’ve warned me.”

“And miss that look of sheer terror? Absolutely not,” he replied with a smirk, releasing her as if it were beneath him to linger too long.

Her retort died on her lips as her eyes took in the sight before her: Asgard. The city glimmered like something out of a dream, its golden spires piercing the heavens, the sky above it painted in hues she couldn’t name. Rivers of light wove through the air like threads in an invisible loom, casting an otherworldly glow over everything.

Her jaw dropped. “It’s… it’s…”

“Glorious?” Loki supplied, clearly enjoying her reaction based on the indubitable edge of pride in his voice. “Magnificent? Breathtaking? Go on, I’ve got all day.”

“Overwhelming,” she finished, still gaping.

“Ah, a new one,” he said with mock surprise. “How refreshing.”

Before she could formulate a response, the sound of footsteps echoed across the bridge. An imposing figure approached with the deliberate, measured pace of someone who carried the weight of millennia on his shoulders. His golden eyes swept over [Y/N], lingering for a moment longer than she was comfortable with before settling on Loki, narrowing slightly.

“Prince Loki,” he saluted with a small nod, his voice low and resonant.

“Heimdall,” Loki replied smoothly, his tone laced with feigned civility. “No need for that intimidating look. I am precisely where I’m supposed to be.”

“Rare, but true,” Heimdall said, his gaze shifting back to [Y/N]. He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You are the one who bears the gift.”

She hesitated under the weight of his gaze. “That’s me,” she said with an awkward smile, trying for a tone that sounded casual but landed somewhere closer to nervous.

Heimdall’s piercing stare softened slightly, though a flicker of something unreadable danced behind his golden eyes. “Perhaps…” he murmured as if speaking more to himself than to her.

“Perhaps?” she repeated, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He ignored her question, instead turning his attention to Loki. “And you brought her here in due form? Color me surprised—perhaps your talk of redemption isn’t entirely hollow after all.”

Loki’s smirk deepened, as though the mere idea of Heimdall questioning him brought him endless amusement. “Oh come along, Heimdall, have some faith in me will you? Thor was otherwise occupied, so yes, I am the one who delivered our little anomaly to Asgard. Do try not to look so surprised.”

Heimdall’s gaze flickered back to [Y/N], and this time his expression was unreadable. “You assume much, Loki, as always. There is more to this one than meets the eye.”

[Y/N] blinked, her brow furrowing. “Uh, hello? Cryptic much?”

Instead of gracing her with an answer, Heimdall turned and began walking toward the city, his stride as unyielding as the bridge beneath their feet. “Come. There is much to discuss, and the Allfather will not wait.”

She exchanged a confused glance with Loki, but he only shrugged, clearly uninterested in dissecting Heimdall’s cryptic words.

“Don’t let him get into your head,” Loki said, following after the gatekeeper with an air of feigned indifference. “He enjoys making everything sound mysterious and profound. It’s practically a pastime.”

But [Y/N] couldn’t shake the weight of Heimdall’s words as they drew closer to the city. More than meets the eye. It was an idea that gnawed at her as she stared at the golden gates ahead, a growing knot of unease twisting in her stomach.

Whatever awaited her inside the halls of Asgard, she suspected it would be more than she was prepared for.

⠀⠀

Soon enough, the small group reached the golden gates of Asgard which opened with a slow, reverent creak, revealing the splendor within. As they stepped across the threshold, [Y/N] felt her breath hitch. The palace was impossibly vast, its ceilings arching so high above that they seemed to disappear into the ether. Columns of gleaming gold lined the grand hall, their surfaces etched with intricate runes that shimmered faintly as though alive. Sunlight poured in from massive windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the polished floors.

“I’m starting to think you people don’t do subtle,” [Y/N] murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Loki, walking beside her with his usual swagger, smirked. “Subtlety is overrated. What you see here is the peak of sophistication and culture.”

“I get where your dramatic flair comes from now. Feels like you’re compensating for something,” she shot back, unable to resist.

“Compensating?” Loki scoffed, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Darling, if Asgard were compensating, we’d have built two palaces and made them float.”

[Y/N] snorted, shaking her head. “Right, because subtlety really is your strong suit.”

“Subtlety,” he said, stepping ahead with a flourish while twirling his cape as if to make a point, “is for those who have nothing worth showing off.”

Ahead of them, Heimdall paused and turned just enough to give Loki a pointed look. “Do try to behave,” he said dryly. “We are in the presence of the Allfather’s court, after all.”

Loki sighed dramatically. “Always the stickler, Heimdall. I assure you, that my behavior will be exemplary. Can’t guarantee the same for our invitee over here.”

[Y/N] raised an eyebrow but wisely chose not to comment. Instead, she focused on the grand hall ahead, where grand statures loomed at the far end seemingly watching over the entrance of the throne rooms. God, must all Asgardians be so tall?

Two guards in shining armor led them through the labyrinthine halls, their expressions stoic, their silence impenetrable. She clutched her neck where the artifact had affixed itself weeks ago, the golden runes etched into her skin glowing faintly under her touch. It hadn’t hurt, but it had refused to let go, as if it had claimed her. Those wretched SHIELD scientists on Earth had no answers. Neither did she.

A voice broke through her thoughts as they reached the throne room. "The Allfather will see you now."

The massive doors creaked open, revealing a short but intimidating old man seated on his throne, the ever-watchful Heimdall leading the troupe and striding to pay his respects. Guess not, after all. A gorgeous and graceful lady sat beside him, her serene expression offering a sliver of comfort amidst the tension. [Y/N] stepped forward hesitantly, feeling like she had sinned for even letting her feet brush against the polished floor.

"Come closer," Odin commanded, his voice echoing through the chamber. She obeyed, feeling small beneath his gaze.

Even from a distance, his presence was imposing. Draped in regal robes of deep crimson and gold, the Allfather sat upon a throne that seemed carved from starlight itself. His one remaining eye fixed on them as they approached, sharp and unyielding. The queen beside him held an elegance that was a stark contrast to the weight of Odin’s authority.

As they drew closer, [Y/N] felt the weight of their scrutiny settle on her. She was acutely aware of her attire—a basic white shirt, paired with a burgundy leather jacket and jeans, entirely impolite for the occasion. The contrast between the modern, casual outfit and the ancient, sacred setting was striking, and it felt as though she were wearing a banner of her inadequacy. The artifact bound to her neck—the ornate, ancient-looking jewelry she hadn’t been able to remove—seemed to pulse faintly under their gaze, as if sensing the gravity of the moment.

However, beneath the surface, there was an almost surreal feeling tugging at her. She had been stripped of her usual layers, her defenses, her control—forced to stand before these gods and be judged.

They stopped at the base of the dais, and Heimdall stepped forward, bowing deeply. “Allfather. I present the mortal who bears the artifact.”

Odin’s gaze shifted to her, and the air seemed to grow heavier. [Y/N] swallowed hard, unsure whether to bow, curtsy, or just stand there and hope she didn’t offend anyone. Her voice faltered as she glanced at the ground and stuttered, “Do I... Do I bow, or—?” Her words trailed off, feeling absurd in the silence that stretched between them.

Odin’s expression hardened, but there was a brief flicker of something—amusement, perhaps—before he spoke. “You stand as you are, mortal. Your presence here has already spoken volumes.”

The silence hung thick, and she straightened, hoping she hadn't overstepped, but unsure if she had done enough. Loki’s absence of protest was loud in its own way, though.

“You’ve brought her here safely,” Odin said, his voice deep and resonant, carrying the weight of eons. “Good.”

Then his gaze moved to Loki, narrowing slightly. “And you. I had expected Thor to complete this task, yet it is you who stands before me. Explain.”

Loki’s posture straightened, his usual smirk fading into something more restrained. “Thor is off-world, tending to a matter of great importance,” he said smoothly. “I was the logical choice to retrieve her. After all, who better to guide a mortal through the complexities of our realm than I?”

“Or to exploit her presence for your amusement,” Odin countered sharply, his tone cutting. 

Loki’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t falter. “I’m here because I was entrusted with the task. And I fulfilled it.”

“You are supposed to be on house arrest, boy—”

Frigga stepped forward then, her voice gentle but firm. “And had he not gone, we wouldn’t have the chance to meet her, would we, my king? She stands before us unharmed.”

[Y/N] sneaked a glance at Loki out of the corner of her eye, and for a moment she saw something entirely unfamiliar. The usual sharpness in his demeanor, the endless supply of biting wit and bravado, seemed dulled under Odin’s glare. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, and his hands clasped behind his back as if restraining himself. She’d never seen him so repressed before, so small beneath someone else’s authority. It unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

Odin’s gaze lingered on Loki for a moment longer before he shifted his focus back to [Y/N]. “What do you know of the artifact you carry?”

“Not much,” [Y/N] admitted, her voice steadier than she expected. “I found it during a trip to Sweden. The moment I picked it up, it latched onto me. I’ve tried everything—pulling it off, cutting it, even letting some organizatiom poke at it with their fancy tech.”

Loki smirked beside her. “Charming.”

She ignored him. “It doesn’t hurt me, but sometimes it feels like it’s… alive. Like it’s trying to tell me something.”

Odin’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eye—curiosity, perhaps, or recognition. “It is no ordinary artifact,” he said at last. “Its origins are older than even this realm. We will determine its purpose and its bond to you, but the process will not be easy.”

[Y/N] frowned, her fingers brushing against the cool, smooth surface of the artifact. “What does that mean?”

Instead of answering directly, Odin raised his staff, Gungnir, and tapped it once against the polished floor. The chamber darkened, and the golden light of Asgard’s magic rippled through the air. A projection began to form before them—a shimmering, ethereal image of Yggdrasil, its vast branches stretching infinitely. At its roots coiled the immense, terrifying form of a serpent, its scales dark and glimmering with an otherworldly sheen.

“This,” Odin began, his voice reverberating through the room, “is Níðhöggr, the wyrm who once gnawed at the roots of Yggdrasil, threatening the very balance of the Nine Realms. Long before my reign, even before the reign of my father Borr, the great serpent clashed with my grandfather, Búri. Their battle raged for days, shaking the very foundation of existence.”

The projection shifted, showing an imposing figure clad in ancient armor, wielding a glowing axe as he fought the massive serpent. As the battle raged, one of Níðhöggr’s scales fell, pulsing with the chaotic energy of Yggdrasil’s roots.

“When Níðhöggr was finally defeated by my grandfather the late Búri and cast into obscurity, this single scale remained—a fragment of its power, imbued with the raw magic of Yggdrasil itself,” Odin continued. “It was believed lost, hidden from both gods and mortals alike, until now.”

The projection faded, and the light returned to the chamber. Odin’s gaze fell heavily on [Y/N], his expression unreadable. “That scale, the Wyrmscale, has bound itself to you. Why it has chosen a mortal remains to be seen, but its attachment is no trivial matter. It may seek to awaken something within you—or to serve as a harbinger of something far worse.”

[Y/N] stared at him, her chest tightening as she processed the weight of his words. “And… what does that mean for me? What happens now?”

“That’s why she’s here,” Heimdall interjected, his tone solemn, stepping forward. “To be tested.”

Odin nodded gravely, his expression unwavering. “The Hollow of Trials. It is a place where the balance of the realms is tested, a sacred site known only to a few. It is said that those who enter must confront the deepest parts of themselves, for the cave reveals not only your strengths but your weaknesses, your fears, and your potential. It is a place of transformation, where even gods must face their trials to gain wisdom and power.”

[Y/N] raised an eyebrow, eyeing the seriousness of Odin and Heimdall before turning to Loki, whose face was as unreadable as ever. She had to admit, that the description sounded intense. But she wasn’t about to let the solemn atmosphere throw her off. “So… it’s just a cave, then?”

Odin’s eye twitched, his gaze shifting from the projection of the cave to [Y/N] with a sharp, piercing look. His brow furrowed ever so slightly as if trying to decide whether to address the disrespect or simply let it pass. He chose the former. “It is not ‘just a cave,’ mortal,” he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of centuries. The side-eye he gave her was cold and unimpressed. “The Hollow of Trials is a place of great significance. It tests those who enter in ways you cannot yet comprehend.”

[Y/N] met his gaze without flinching, but there was no hiding the slight grin tugging at her lips. She leaned toward Loki and whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, “Guess it’s not just a cave then.”

Loki’s lips twitched into a brief smile before he straightened, looking back to Odin. “It is a place of trials, yes. Much more than a mere cave.” His voice was smooth, but there was a slight edge to it, the kind that came from having spent too many years around Odin’s more… imposing presence.

Odin’s side-eye lingered for a moment longer before he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. “You will see for yourself soon enough. But remember this, [Y/N],” he added with quiet authority, “you are on sacred ground. Show it the respect it demands.”

[Y/N] gave him a nod, not entirely convinced, but fully aware that disrespecting him further would probably not end well. “Got it. Big, serious cave.”

Heimdall stepped forward, eyeing her now with a hint of disapproval, though he didn’t speak. Odin’s gaze shifted to Loki then, seemingly dismissing [Y/N] for the moment, though the weight of his earlier words still hung heavy in the air.

Frigga, who had remained silently observing the exchange, finally spoke, her voice light but with an undercurrent of motherly warmth. “You are brave to face this trial,” she said, her gaze flicking over [Y/N] with a faint smile. “The cave will bring out what you least expect, but it will also show you the truth of yourself. Be prepared for what you may learn.”

[Y/N] wasn’t sure if she should be reassured by Frigga’s words or if they were meant to prepare her for something worse. She gave a tight smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, Your Majesty.”

Frigga’s smile deepened at the respectful tone. “Good. Trust in the process. And remember, you are not alone in this, no matter how it feels in the moment.”

Before [Y/N] could respond, Loki stepped forward, his usual swagger replaced with a more persuasive tone. “And while [Y/N] faces these trials, surely it would be wise for me to accompany her. As her guide, I could—”

Odin’s piercing gaze snapped to Loki, his expression unreadable, but the tension in the room thickened. “You will do no such thing.”

Loki’s smile faltered for just a moment. “But father, surely my presence would be—”

“No,” Odin interjected, his voice cutting through Loki’s words like a sharp blade. “This trial is hers alone to face. You will remain here, where you are needed.”

Loki hesitated, pressing his lips together as if weighing his words. There was an unmistakable flicker of reluctance in his eyes, one that wasn’t lost on either of his parents. Frigga’s brow furrowed slightly, and she exchanged a rapid glance with Odin before turning her attention back to Loki.

“You seem... unusually determined to accompany her, Loki,” Frigga remarked, her tone soft but laced with concern. “Is there a reason you are so reluctant to let her face this alone?”

Loki’s smirk faded, his posture stiffening. He quickly recovered, though, leaning into his usual charm. “I’m simply looking out for her well-being,” he said smoothly, though the edge in his voice suggested there was more beneath the surface. “Surely you both can see that this trial will be taxing on her. It’s only natural for me to ensure she isn’t harmed.”

Odin’s eyes narrowed, suspicion clouding his expression. “And you think you are the best one to protect her in this trial? You, who has only recently earned back our trust?”

Loki didn’t flinch at the accusation, but there was an almost imperceptible twitch in his jaw. “I am capable of more than you know, Father. You needn’t worry about me.”

Frigga studied him with a piercing gaze, her motherly instincts keen. “Loki,” she said gently, “it’s not the protection of [Y/N] we question. It’s your reasons for wanting to accompany her. You’ve never been one to shy away from danger or intrigue. What is it that you fear in her doing this alone?”

Loki’s eyes flickered toward [Y/N], his voice lowering. “It’s not fear. It’s caution.” He looked back at Odin and Frigga, his expression a little more guarded now. “This is a unique situation. One I believe requires a guiding hand.”

Odin’s piercing gaze remained fixed on him, his silence speaking volumes. There was no anger in the god’s eyes, only a quiet understanding that Loki’s behavior was anything but ordinary. Frigga placed a hand gently on Odin’s arm, but her eyes never left her son.

“You are not to accompany her,” Odin finally decreed, his voice firm. “The Hollow of Trials requires solitude, and it is not your place to interfere.”

Loki’s face remained neutral, but his eyes darkened with unspoken emotions. “As you wish,” he said flatly, stepping back. “But I’ll be close, Father. You know where to find me if you need anything... or if the trial proves too much for her.”

Odin and Frigga exchanged another look, their suspicion deepening as they watched Loki’s retreat. Frigga’s voice softened, though, as she turned back to [Y/N].

“Do not mind him,” she said, her tone comforting. “Loki’s path is… complicated, but his concern for you is genuine, in his own way.”

[Y/N] nodded, feeling a mixture of sympathy and wariness toward the prince. Loki had certainly been a puzzle to her so far, but right now, she had more pressing matters at hand.

“Well, I guess I’m off to this ‘Hollow of Trials,’ then,” she said, a nervous smile creeping onto her face. “Hopefully I can avoid turning into a snack for whatever’s in there.”

Frigga smiled warmly. “You’ll do fine. Trust yourself, [Y/N]. That is the most important part of the trial.”

Odin, who had been quietly watching the exchange, finally spoke again, his tone softer than before. “The trial begins now. Proceed with caution.”

⠀⠀

As [Y/N] stepped into the lavish room, Frigga followed close behind, her presence both comforting and commanding. The regal chambers felt foreign to [Y/N], the walls lined with intricate tapestries depicting ancient battles and victories. It was strange to be in a place so full of history, knowing she was now a part of it, however briefly.

Frigga smiled gently, her warmth radiating in the cold, cavernous room. "You must be feeling overwhelmed," she said softly, watching [Y/N] as she looked around.

[YN] gave a weak smile, her hands still nervously twitching. "You could say that. I never expected any of this. One moment I’m just a regular exchange student on a school trip to Sweden, and the next I am here, about to enter a sacred cave... and probably face some weird, magical thing."

Frigga’s eyes softened, her smile never faltering. "This is a lot to take in, but you are stronger than you realize. It is an honor to be here, and this trial will help you find out what you're truly capable of."

[YN] glanced at Frigga, then down at herself. She was still dressed in the simple clothes she had worn for the journey, and though they were practical, they wouldn’t do for such an occasion. "So... what exactly am I supposed to wear? Not that I’ve had much time to go shopping for sacred cave attire."

Frigga chuckled, the sound rich and full of warmth. "Fear not, I’ll take care of that." She moved toward a large wardrobe at the far side of the room, filled with gowns and outfits woven from fine silks and materials that shimmered like the night sky. "These aren’t the usual gowns of Asgard," Frigga explained, "but they are practical for such a trial."

She motioned for [Y/N] to sit as she began pulling out garments, her eyes assessing the materials with a practiced hand. "I know it may seem strange, this idea of dressing up for a trial, but appearances can be important in Asgard. There is honor in how we present ourselves, even in the most difficult of moments."

[YN] chuckled, shaking her head slightly. "Seems a bit... extra, don’t you think? For a cave trial?"

Frigga smiled knowingly. "Perhaps," she said softly, as she began to unfold a simple yet elegant outfit made of light fabric. "But this trial will reveal your inner strength. You must present yourself as you truly are—strong, capable, and unafraid of the challenges ahead."

Frigga laid out the attire, a soft, flowing robe of pure white that shimmered faintly under the dim light of the room. The fabric was delicate, like the finest silk, but not overly elaborate—its simplicity lent it an understated elegance that would suit [Y/N]'s unassuming nature. The robe draped down from the shoulders in soft folds, the design was minimal but graceful, with no heavy embellishments to distract from its quiet beauty. The sleeves were long and fluid, cinched at the wrist with a thin silver band, and the hem barely brushed the floor, giving the robe an ethereal quality, like a soft cloud in a moonlit sky.

Around the waist was a subtle, golden-threaded sash that tied loosely, giving the robe shape without constricting it. It didn’t cling to her figure, but the soft weight of the fabric promised to mold her body in a way that would emphasize the graceful movement of her form. There was nothing ostentatious about it, yet the robe exuded a regal aura—its simplicity accentuated by its luxurious fabric.

It was clear that Frigga had chosen this robe not just for its beauty, but for its practicality. The lightness of the fabric made it seem almost weightless, yet its soft sheen caught the light in a way that would make it appear even more beautiful when wet, the material clinging gently to the skin, tracing every curve in a way that was both delicate and stunning.

She held up the clothes and turned back to [Y/N], who was still seated, unsure of how to approach the situation. "I know this is unfamiliar," Frigga continued, her voice warm and soothing. "But let me help you, child. You don’t have to face this alone. Not truly."

As [Y/N] began to change behind a nearby screen, she felt an unusual sense of comfort in Frigga's words. Despite the regal atmosphere, the queen’s presence was grounded, maternal even. It was hard not to feel a little at ease.

Frigga, seemingly reading the mood, smiled faintly. "You have a strength about you, [Y/N]. Something I see, even in the way you carry yourself, the way you’ve managed to survive what you’ve been through. You may think you’re just a mortal, but I sense something different in you."

[YN] peeked out from behind the screen, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? What, you mean I’m some kind of hero-in-the-making?"

Frigga’s eyes glinted with wisdom, a knowing smile on her lips. "Not exactly a hero. But there’s more to you than meets the eye. The bond between you and the artifact... It’s no coincidence. There’s something in your soul that the artifact recognized. Something ancient and powerful." She hesitated for a moment before speaking again, almost as if she were considering the weight of her words. "And something that might be more connected to Asgard than you realize."

[YN] tugged the tunic over her head and emerged from behind the screen, feeling more herself in the simple yet elegant clothes. "Connected to Asgard? You mean the whole ‘grand destiny’ speech? Because I’m still waiting for the part where I get my cape and superpowers."

Frigga’s smile softened. "Not quite that. But there’s a connection in you, something unseen. My gift of sight allows me to see beyond the surface—into the hearts and souls of others. And I’ve seen it in you."

[Y/N] paused, looking at Frigga in surprise. "Wait, you’re telling me you can see... beyond your eyes? Like, the future? Or some deep, dark secret about my life?"

Frigga chuckled gently, her gaze never leaving [Y/N]’s. "No, nothing like that. But I can see the essence of who someone truly is. And you... you have strength that even you don’t fully understand yet. It’s as though you’ve always been destined to walk a path that will lead you here, to this moment. You may not see it yet, but I do."

[YN] was quiet for a moment, letting the weight of Frigga’s words settle in. "I guess I never really thought of it that way," she murmured. "I’m just a regular-sized human being from Earth—or, Midgard as you say. Never thought I'd be standing here, in the middle of a royal family’s palace, about to face some huge trial... and all because of a shiny rock I picked up on vacation."

Frigga smiled warmly, her eyes full of understanding. "You may not see it now, but perhaps the journey you are on will help you understand your place in this world—here, with us, with the Asgardians. And in time, you’ll understand why the artifact chose you. Everything happens for a reason, [Y/N]. Even if that reason is something you can't yet comprehend."

There was a long silence as Frigga finished adjusting her outfit, and then stepped back to admire her work while [Y/N] studied herself in the mirror, noting how the robe cascaded around her with almost divine grace. The robe felt both foreign and natural on her body. The cool fabric against her skin gave her a sense of being part of something larger—something ancient. It was as if she were wearing a garment that had been crafted not for her, but for a version of herself she hadn’t yet discovered.

Frigga’s eyes softened as she gazed at [Y/N]. “It suits you,” she said gently. “Simple yet powerful. A reflection of your true strength.”

[Y/N] smiled faintly. "Strength, huh? I might need a lot of that. Mentally, especially."

Frigga laughed softly, a sound full of affection. "Yes, perhaps you will. But you are capable, and you will face this trial with courage. Trust in yourself."

[Y/N] gave a hesitant nod, feeling a mix of nerves and determination wash over her. "Thank you, Your Majesty. For everything."

Frigga placed a hand on her shoulder, her grip firm but kind. "It is my duty, [Y/N]. Know that you are not alone, no matter what happens in that cave."

As [Y/N] turned to leave, Frigga’s voice stopped her for a moment. "Remember, this trial is not just about strength. It’s about finding who you truly are."

[Y/N] gave her a small smile. "I’ll keep that in mind." With one last glance at Frigga, she walked toward the door, ready to face whatever awaited her in the Hollow of Trials.

Frigga led [Y/N] through the palace, her presence calm and steady despite the looming uncertainty of what was to come. The tension from earlier still hung in the air, but Frigga’s quiet confidence was a grounding force.

“You’ll need to remain calm,” The queen said, her voice soft but firm as they walked down the stone corridors toward the cave. “The sacred cave will reveal to you the truth of the artifact, but it will test you. Tests are not always kind, but they are necessary.”

[YN] nodded, trying to steady her breath. She hadn’t expected it to feel this real, this heavy, despite the absence of a clear threat. It was as though the cave itself was waiting for her, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to meet whatever it held.

“The trials within will challenge your mind, your body, and your spirit. But most importantly, it will reveal the bond between you and the artifact, and the deeper purpose it holds for you. To the land of Asgard, to the ancient power that lies beneath,” Frigga continued, her gaze distant for a moment. “The scales of Níðhöggr are not just a relic of old, they are a key to understanding the future. You must enter the cave, and what you see may shock you, but you mustn’t lose yourself in it.”

The more Frigga spoke, the more [Y/N] felt the weight of the task before her. “What exactly will happen when I enter?” she asked, her curiosity mixed with an edge of nervousness.

“You will be shown what lies dormant within you,” Frigga explained, “The cave is connected to the heart of Yggdrasil itself, and it will guide you through what you need to see. Focus. Don’t let fear take hold.”

They reached the entrance to the cave—a massive opening, shrouded in mist. The walls seemed to breathe, pulsating softly, almost as if welcoming her into their depths.

[YN] swallowed hard. “I’m ready.” She wasn’t sure if that was true, but the words felt like something she needed to say.

⠀⠀

They arrived at the entrance to the cave—an imposing archway shrouded in mist and darkened stone. The air felt thicker here, charged with an almost tangible energy that made the hairs on the back of [Y/N]'s neck stand up. Frigga paused, giving her a steady, reassuring glance before stepping back to lean against the stone just outside the entrance.

“You must enter alone,” Frigga said, her voice gentle but firm. “You will know when the time comes to act. Trust yourself, and remember what I’ve told you.”

[YN] gave a nod, a mix of apprehension and determination in her heart. She stepped forward, crossing the threshold of the cave. As her foot touched the cool stone floor, a slight chill seemed to seep into her bones. She shivered but didn’t stop.

The inside was dim, shadows stretching from the walls as if the cave itself had a life of its own. The faint glow from the artifact around her neck illuminated the path before her, casting eerie reflections against the wet stone. She continued to move deeper into the cave, the silence pressing in on her like a weight.

As she ventured deeper, she could feel the air grow colder, and she felt the pulse of the artifact beneath her skin. The longer she walked, the stronger the pull—it was as if it was calling her, urging her toward something deep within the cave.

A sudden voice broke the stillness, echoing off the walls.

“Are you really planning to do this alone, little mortal?”

[YN] spun around, startled. Before she could even process who—or what—it was, her instincts kicked in. A sudden rush of panic and irritation propelled her fist forward, swinging at the mysterious figure standing in the shadows.

But just as her punch came within inches of its target, she froze, her eyes going wide.

Loki stepped forward into the faint light, a sly smile curling at his lips, completely unfazed. The blow had missed him by mere inches, and he watched with amusement as [YN] lowered her fist in realization.

“Loki?” she asked, voice tinged with irritation. “What are you doing here? I thought your mother said I had to do this on my own.”

Loki didn’t skip a beat. “Oh, she did, didn’t she? But I thought I’d just... make sure you’re not getting yourself into trouble. After all, we wouldn’t want you to get lost in here or something.”

[YN] blinked, still trying to steady her breath. “You’re not subtle.”

Loki’s grin widened, clearly unbothered. "I already told you, subtlety is overrated."

Suddenly, [YN] felt a surge of irritation—at herself, for being startled so easily—and without thinking, she swung out with a fist, aiming straight for him.

She didn’t even land a punch.

Loki’s grin only grew as he effortlessly dodged the swing, leaning to the side with the fluid grace of someone who had seen this kind of thing before. "Is that your idea of defending yourself, mortal?" he teased, standing completely still as her fist missed by inches.

[YN] froze for a moment, eyes wide with embarrassment. "I wasn’t... I was just—"

"—Trying to punch me? Well, I suppose it was a valiant effort," Loki said, unruffled, his expression mocking yet somehow fond. "But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to hit me."

[YN] scowled, rubbing the back of her neck. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind, thanks."

Loki chuckled softly at her annoyance. "You’ll need a lot more than a surprise swing to face what’s ahead, mortal. But don’t worry—I'll be here to help," he added, his voice turning more serious, though there was still that underlying amusement in his tone.

[YN] scowled, feeling her blood rise to her cheeks. “Great. First, I punch a god, now I’m being scolded and tailed by one.”

Loki smirked, clearly entertained by her flustered reaction. “And here I thought I was the deranged one.”

[YN] crossed her arms, doing her best to hide her embarrassment. “Well, you are.”

“Only on special occasions.” Loki chuckled, his grin widening. “Now, let’s get on with this, shall we? I’ll stay close in case you need me... even if you insist on attempting to hit me again.”

“Oh trust me, I’d love to make you my personal punching ball. But you’re not supposed to be here, Your Highness,” she said, her voice firmer this time. “This is my trial, not yours.”

Loki’s smile faltered just slightly, but he quickly recovered, his eyes glinting with a mixture of mischief and something else. “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m not here to interfere. Just think of me as an... observer. I’m actually quite good at observing, you know.”

[YN] narrowed her eyes. “Fine, but you stay out of my way. I’m not in the mood for your tricks.”

Loki’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he stepped closer, seemingly unbothered by her resistance. “I’m just making sure you’re safe. Who else could keep you company on this grand adventure? Your noble Asgardian family? Heimdall is too busy watching the horizon, and moth—Frigga, well, she’s always so proper.” He gave a dramatic roll of his eyes. “You’re stuck with me.”

[YN] didn’t know whether to be frustrated or amused, but she felt a little of the tension in her chest ease up. “Fine. But if you do anything to make this harder than it already is, I swear I’ll—”

“—you’ll what? Throw me out of here?” Loki interrupted with a soft chuckle. “You can try, but I’m rather skilled at slipping past... inconveniences.”

Just then, they heard Frigga’s voice echo from outside the cave, calling out in a tone that barely masked her amusement. “Loki, if you’re going to follow her, at least try to be subtle about it.”

Loki’s grin widened as he turned to [Y/N]. “See? I told you, not subtle at all.”

[YN] huffed but followed, rolling her eyes as she muttered under her breath, "I’d rather be doing this on my own."

Loki’s soft laugh echoed around her. "Oh, I’m sure you would, but where’s the fun in that?"

[YN] gave him a pointed look before stepping deeper into the cave, determined not to let his presence distract her. The further she ventured, the more the air seemed to hum with energy, the walls of the cave narrowing around her as if closing in, but she kept her focus.

Loki followed closely behind, his presence bringing a mix of annoyance and reluctant comfort.

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do here,” she said after a moment, her voice a little softer.

Loki raised an eyebrow, the humor in his voice fading for just a moment. “You’ll know. Trust me. The artifact has a way of showing you what you need to see.” He paused, then added, “And if you don’t, well, I’ll be here to make sure you don’t do anything... rash.”

[YN] sighed, her eyes scanning the dark cave around them. Whatever was about to happen, she was ready—or at least, she hoped she was.

The further they ventured into the cave, the more surreal it became. The air grew cooler, and the light seemed to dim as they descended deeper into the cavern. Soon, they emerged into an expansive, otherworldly space. The chamber stretched high above them, the walls lined with shimmering minerals that cast faint glows, giving the place a mystical feel.

At the center of the cavern was a clear, glowing pool of water, rippling ever so slightly as if something ancient and powerful stirred beneath its surface. The water shimmered with an eerie blue light, reflecting the faint beams of light that filtered through cracks in the ceiling. The surroundings were so calm, so peaceful—it almost seemed too good to be true.

“This is it?” [YN] asked, taking in the sight. She felt a mixture of awe and apprehension.

Loki, who had been walking in silence beside her, stopped a few steps ahead, eyeing the pool with a thoughtful expression. “Yes. The pool of trial,” he said, though his voice was laced with a touch of amusement. “Step into the water. It will reveal what you need to face.”

[YN] froze, her heart sinking as she stared at the pool. “Wait, step in? That?” She gestured toward the glowing water, the nervous energy creeping up her spine. “What if it’s, I don’t know, scalding? What if it burns me?” She glanced at him with wide eyes. “I’m not exactly in the mood to be turned into a crispy bacon today, thank you very much.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by her concerns. “You’re overthinking this,” he said, his voice laced with mild amusement. “It’s not as dangerous as it looks.”

Her anxiety didn’t seem to ease. She slowly stepped toward the water, her eyes scanning the surface for any signs of heat or danger. “You’re sure it won’t burn me? Because I’m really not equipped for magical burns.”

Loki watched her, fighting back a grin. “You’ll be fine. It’s not as dramatic as you're imagining.”

Still, she hesitated, her heart racing. Her mind ran wild with all the possibilities—maybe it wasn’t just water. Maybe it was some sort of curse in disguise. Maybe it was boiling acid that would eat through her skin. Or worse, maybe it was a test to see how long she could stand the pain before... She shivered at the thought.

As she took a tentative step forward, Loki raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter? Scared of a little water?”

She shot him a glare. “I’m not scared. I’m just being cautious. There’s a difference.”

Loki rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh, please.” Before she could respond, before she even had the chance to think it through, he took a sudden step forward and with a swift motion shoved her into the pool, sending her stumbling into the water.

“Loki!” she yelped, flailing in surprise, her feet slipping beneath her as the cool water splashed around her. The shock of the sudden fall took the breath out of her as she splashed into the pool, sputtering as she broke the surface.

Loki stood at the edge, watching her with a satisfied grin, arms crossed. “You were taking too long,” he said, unfazed by her glare. “Besides, you were overthinking it.”

[YN] glared at him, brushing her wet hair out of her face. “I wasn’t overthinking! You just pushed me in without warning!”

“Oh, come on, you weren’t going to do it yourself,” Loki said with a shrug, clearly enjoying her flustered reaction. “Sometimes, you just need a little push.”

She was drenched now, water dripping down her clothes, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit of a sting in her chest at the sudden, unexpected splash. “I was thinking about it... slowly.”

Loki chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “No time for slow thinking. Now, let’s see what happens next, shall we?”

⠀⠀

As [Y/N] mourned her state, the cold rippled across her skin, but it wasn’t the chill that caught her attention. The water around her began to shimmer, glowing brighter with every passing second. The air itself seemed to hum, pulsing with an energy she couldn’t quite comprehend. Slowly, an aura of light began to envelop her—faint at first, but growing steadily stronger. Her body began to glow, not with harsh light, but with an ethereal radiance, as though the northern lights had taken form within her. Soft, shifting hues—pink, green, blue, and violet, colours reminiscent of the Bifrost—wove through her skin, with a faint touch of gold cascading across her form like the flowing branches of a great tree, stretching to every inch of her being.

The glow, fluid and seamless, surrounded her in ribbons of light, as if she were the very embodiment of the auroras themselves. For a fleeting moment, it was as though she were no longer entirely tangible. Her edges blurred, her form rippling like water, the colors of the aurora intertwining with the essence of her very being. She seemed weightless, suspended between realms, as though the cave had absorbed her into its ancient roots, her presence melding with the very magic of the place.

Her glow was hypnotic, a thing of beauty and power. She seemed both present and absent, solid and ethereal, bathed in the light of a thousand unseen stars. The colors shifted and swirled, weaving through her, a dream only half-remembered, a story half-told. The entire cavern seemed to hold its breath, caught in the magic radiating from her.

Loki barely noticed the way his breath caught in his chest. “By the Norns,” he muttered under his breath.

For the first time in a long time, Loki felt small.

His gaze was locked on her, entranced. He had seen many forms of magic before, but nothing like this. It was as if she were a bridge, a living conduit for powers older than time itself. The air around her thickened, vibrating with an ancient force that seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. It was a weighty energy, something primordial, something far beyond the grasp of any ordinary god.

There was something more, something familiar, yet elusive. A pull, deep within him, that resonated with the core of his being. For a moment, he almost felt as though he were standing before something divine, something ancient beyond measure. The glow around her flickered briefly, revealing an intricate symbol—tree-like, its roots sprawling across her form like a reflection of her nervous system. It was so subtle, so fleeting, that Loki almost questioned if it had been real. A vision? A trick of the light? But the connection, the sensation, was undeniable. She was tied to something vast, something far older than anything he had ever encountered.

Then, as the colors of the aurora deepened, he could have sworn he saw it—the roots of Yggdrasil, stretching across the cavern, whispering through the light, intertwining with her very essence. The vision was brief, but the connection between her and the great tree was unmistakable. She was no longer merely a mortal. She was something far more. Something much greater.

Loki snapped out of his trance, shaking himself from the dizzying pull of her presence. His thoughts needed to settle, but the image of her, radiant and unknowable, had left an indelible mark on his mind. She wasn’t just a mortal anymore. She was tied to something far greater than any of them. Something even he couldn’t comprehend.

But then, there was a shift.

The air in the cavern crackled with magic, and for a moment, Loki could only watch, intrigued, as [Y/N] glowed with an otherworldly light. Her body shimmered like the northern lights, colors shifting in mesmerizing waves, casting ethereal reflections across the water. He couldn’t deny the effect it had on him—her beauty was undeniable, but it was the strange, potent magic swirling within her that truly captured his attention.

A subtle distortion rippled across her body as the pendant around her neck began to pulse, glowing with an intensity that made the air around them feel charged. Loki narrowed his eyes, sensing something was about to happen. This wasn’t just a glowing display of power—it was something deeper.

The pendant’s magic stirred, and from the center of her chest, a shadowy, serpent-like form emerged. It moved sluggishly at first, as though testing the air, then, with an unnerving speed, it coiled outward, slipping from the pendant like a living nightmare. Loki’s eyes flashed with surprise as the serpent’s body unfolded, scales shimmering with a dark iridescence, its glowing eyes narrowing as it circled the room ominously. It didn’t seem like a natural creature; more like a manifestation of some ancient magic.

“Well, that’s new. Should I be worried?” he mused aloud, watching the serpent glide through the air, its tail whipping past the cave walls with a hiss that vibrated in his bones.

He wasn’t exactly concerned—it was just another magical oddity—but there was something about the way it moved that made his curiosity flare. He had seen many strange things in his long life, but this? This was unlike anything he’d encountered before.

He looked to [Y/N] for a reaction, but her gaze was locked on the serpent, her expression a mixture of awe and hesitation.

For a moment, the serpent paused, hovering directly above her, its eyes fixated on her face. It was as if it was waiting for something—waiting for her. The air grew thicker, charged with a tension that Loki could almost taste. Then, without warning, the serpent lunged, its massive body streaking toward her like a bolt of lightning.

Loki’s eyes widened, his reflexes kicking in as he moved forward, his hand outstretched, ready to intercept. But before he could act, the serpent vanished into her body, slipping right through her with eerie ease. The force of its intrusion jolted [Y/N], and she was thrown backward, crashing into the water with a splash that sent ripples across the surface.

Loki stood at the edge of the pool, momentarily stunned. His pulse quickened as he peered into the water, watching her disappear beneath the surface. For a split second, he wondered if he'd misjudged the situation—if he had waited too long to intervene.

The seconds stretched on like an eternity before, finally, she resurfaced.

Her appearance was… quite different from before. The faint glow that had enveloped her body earlier remained faintly, but now it clung to her like a second skin, subtle and ethereal. Her hair, damp and flowing around her, cascaded in waves down her back, each strand catching the light in a way that made her look almost unreal—like a siren from the depths of myth. Her robe, soaked through, clung to her form in a way that left little to the imagination and left the god breathless, and the water that trickled down her skin only seemed to enhance the otherworldly glow that surrounded her.

Her eyes met his, their usual sharpness now softened by the strange, lingering magic that swirled through her. There was a quiet moment between them, one that felt far too heavy for the situation at hand. Loki’s gaze lingered on her—on the way the water clung to her skin, tracing every line of her form, on the way her wet hair shimmered in the dim light.

For the first time, he felt something stir within him that wasn’t just idle curiosity or his usual inclination to tease. His eyes flickered downward, and a rush of warmth settled in his chest as the realization hit him like a force of nature.

She was stunning. No—more than that. She was... captivating.

It was the kind of attraction that came suddenly, like the snap of a string. He didn’t want to admit it, especially not to himself, but there it was. The light clinging to her skin, the way her body moved through the water, the delicate way her robe shifted, revealing more than it concealed—it was impossible to ignore.

Loki swallowed, his pulse quickening before he could rein in his thoughts. Focus, he told himself, but it was harder than usual.

His mind raced as he forced a casual smirk on his face, his usual playful tone returning. “Well, that was... certainly a display. You might want to be careful about who—or what—you attract next time.” His gaze flicked over her, lingering just a second longer than he intended, before he shifted back to his usual playful teasing.

He wasn’t sure if he was still speaking about the magic or the effect she had on him. Maybe both.

She stared at him, her expression unreadable, still trying to compose herself, but the moment of vulnerability—the way her eyes still held that same faint, ethereal glow—stuck with him. It was difficult to keep his mind from drifting back to the image of her, glowing like some otherworldly being.

Loki scoffed softly to himself, shaking off the sudden jolt of desire that had swept through him. He was Loki, after all. He was in control. But as he turned away, he couldn’t deny that something had shifted in his perception of her. Whatever power she had, whatever strange magic clung to her, it was only amplifying the attraction he hadn’t quite wanted to acknowledge.

It was a dangerous thought, one he didn’t dare explore too deeply just yet.

Her voice, though still shaken from the strange encounter, snapped him from his thoughts. “What just happened?”

Loki took a slow step closer, eyeing her with a mix of amusement and skepticism. “It seems like you just had a little chat with whatever that thing was,” he said, gesturing vaguely to her glowing form. “Seems like it didn’t do you any lasting harm, but you’ve certainly made an impression. Whatever power that was, it’s definitely tied to you now.”

He crossed his arms, his mind already working through the possibilities, analyzing every detail. His gaze lingered on her a little longer than he intended, noting how the glow still radiated from her skin, subtle but undeniable.

She shook her head, trying to regain some semblance of control. “That’s not exactly comforting, you know.”

“Not my problem,” Loki quipped, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. “But I will admit, it’s an interesting little magic show you’ve got going on. I’m curious what comes next.”

Her eyes flickered with frustration, but she took a breath, regaining her composure as best she could. “I don’t know how many times I’m going to say it, but it seems it’s never enough: I didn’t sign up for this.”

Loki shrugged, his smirk widening. “Oh, I think you did. At least you served for the entertainment.” He crouched near the edge of the pool, looking at her with a mischievous glint in his eye. “But I’d say you passed. Whatever that creature was, it seems to have accepted you.”

There was no immediate danger—just a strange, powerful magic coursing through her—but Loki’s mind spun with questions. And if he was being honest, there was something about her now, something different that made her undeniably more intriguing than before. He wasn't sure if it was the magic or her new... presence, but he couldn’t look away.

She wiped a droplet of water from her chin, her eyes still narrowed, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. She didn’t appreciate being mocked, especially when she'd already gone through whatever strange ordeal had just occurred. But Loki, of course, couldn’t resist taunting her.

"Yeah, real funny, Loki," she replied, rolling her eyes. "I’m sure you're quite entertained by this, aren’t you?"

Loki’s grin widened, the gleam of mischief in his eyes unmistakable. "I’m simply admiring the show," he teased. "You know I’m an amateur of the fine arts. I barely get to witness such dramatic performances these days."

She stood there in the water, trying to reign in her frustration, a slow smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He was so confident—so smug—like he didn’t have a care in the world. She had a feeling he wasn’t quite expecting what was coming next.

"You do love a show, don’t you, Loki?" she said sweetly as she stepped closer to the edge of the pool, her posture shifting in a way that was almost predatory. 

Loki, caught off guard by the tone of her voice, tilted his head, arching an eyebrow. He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking over her with the same playful smirk. There was something about the way she moved—too graceful, too calculated—that gave him a sense of unease, but he couldn’t quite place why. His curiosity only deepened. She was as unpredictable as always, and that made her endlessly fascinating.

She braced herself on the edge, pushing herself up with a fluid motion, lifting her body out of the water slightly. Her eyes met his, and she leaned forward just enough for their faces to be mere inches apart. The air between them was charged, and she couldn't resist the chance to tease him back.

"You should really try it for yourself. It’s quite refreshing, being all… dripping wet," she murmured, her voice low and sultry, her lips barely brushing his as she spoke.

She tilted her head just slightly, allowing the water droplets on her skin to catch the light as she took another step closer. Her robe, still clinging to her form, glistened with water, and the ethereal glow clung to her skin like a second layer. Her eyes glinted with something so peculiar, and the slightest smile curved her lips. The air between them shifted, charged with tension, and Loki’s smirk faltered for a brief moment as she leaned forward just enough to invade his personal space.

"Hmm, I think you have," she teased, her voice low and enticing, drawing him in closer. She raised herself a little higher, leaning just that bit more, her lips almost too close to his. "Maybe you even like it. Maybe you like watching me struggle helplessly..."

For a moment, Loki forgot the situation entirely. His gaze drifted downward to her lips, and he barely noticed the slight shift in her posture. She was so close now that his heartbeat was racing, his body nearly responding before his mind had a chance to react. It was that subtle, but enough to get Loki utterly captivated. She had ensnared him with a soft look, a playful gesture, and it was all too easy to get lost in her presence.

He wasn’t sure what was happening, but she was so close now—close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath, her scent all around him. Her lips were mere inches from his, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if she was actually going to kiss him. Without thinking, his gaze flicked up to meet hers, and her eyes sparkled with a knowing gleam, as if she’d caught him.  She could see the effect she was having on him—how his usual sharp gaze had softened, how the mischievous glint in his eyes had been replaced with something distracted, almost dazed.

"But maybe you don’t mind being part of it every now and then."

Loki's eyes widened as he snapped out of his trance, a sensation of weightlessness overtaking him in a split second. "Wait, what—"

Without warning, she grabbed him by the arm, her grip surprisingly firm, and yanked him toward her. With a sudden, swift motion, she pulled him into the pool with her, his startled yelp cutting through the air as the water splashed around them. He stumbled in the wetness, head first.

“How’s the water temperature?” [Y/N] now sat perched on the edge of the pool, smirking, the faint glow still clinging to her skin like a siren’s call. She casually flicked a few damp strands of hair from her face, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Loki gasped and blinked, dripping water from his hair as he pushed himself up from the surface, wide-eyed and dripping wet. "You—" he sputtered, glaring at her in disbelief. "You tricked me!"

She tilted her head to the side, her smile widening. "Oh, I think you tricked yourself," she teased. "You were too busy being entertained to notice what was going on right in front of you. I must say, I now understand your point; truly a sight for sore eyes."

Loki shot her a glare, but the heat that had flooded his chest earlier was still there—this time, it wasn’t just irritation. His pride had taken a hit, but there was something else too. A burning sentiment that he desperately tried to repress now more than ever, should he let his impulses rise and take over to provoke something regrettable.

"You’re lucky I’m feeling generous," he muttered under his breath, but his gaze lingered on her just a moment too long.

She chuckled, her eyes dark with amusement. "Maybe you should pay attention next time," she said casually, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "You can’t keep mocking me and not expect a little retaliation. But for now, I’d say that’s a win for me, don’t you think?"

Loki didn’t respond right away, his mind already racing with plans for payback. But as he stood up in the water, still dripping wet and irritated, he couldn't deny the stirrings of something else—something that was entirely more complicated than just his usual urge to tease her back. The whole encounter had left him... flustered, unsettled, and, if he was being honest, curious in a way he hadn’t expected.

As he clambered out of the pool, water dripping from his clothes, he realized that this little game between them was far from over. And next time, he was going to make sure she regretted it.

"Enjoy it while you can," Loki muttered darkly, locking his murderous gaze onto hers.

She simply grinned, her eyes sparkling with that same mischievous light that had drawn him in from the start. "Oh, I sure do."

Loki, still dripping wet and clearly irritated by the prank, stands tall, his posture rigid with the lingering desire to regain control. But instead of moving to challenge her, he takes a moment, eyes narrowing, scanning her with an almost predatory intensity.

He steps closer, slow and deliberate, no longer the teasing trickster but something sharper—darker. “Your boldness is gonna lead to your imminent downfall,” His voice is low, but the air around them crackles with energy, his irritation mixing with something else.

Her grin falters for just a moment as she meets his gaze, unsure of what to make of his sudden change in demeanor. “Oh come on, I’m just having a bit of fun,” she replies, trying to keep her voice steady.

Loki’s lips twitch upwards, but it’s not a smile. More like a challenge. “You’re playing a dangerous game, and I’m starting to wonder if you even know the rules.”

She tilts her head, taking in his shift. He’s still teasing, but there’s a hint of something else in his eyes—a sort of curiosity, an intrigue he’s trying to hide behind his usual bravado. And perhaps, for the first time, she’s sensing a crack in his usually confident demeanor.

As she steps back, just a little, she can feel the weight of the moment, the tension in the space between them. Her earlier confidence begins to waver as she picks up on the way he’s looking at her, no longer merely amused but almost calculating.

"I’m not afraid of games," she says, her voice a little quieter now, with a faint edge to it.

Loki watches her for a long moment before he speaks again, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “You should be.”

Before she can react, he turns sharply, as if ending the conversation, and starts to walk away, leaving her to wonder if that’s really the end of their playful rivalry—or if it’s something else entirely, lurking behind a charade of endless banters.

⠀⠀

As the last echo of their footsteps in the cave's entrance faded behind them, Loki and [Y/N] stepped into the bright light outside. The sun bathed the landscape in soft golden hues, a stark contrast to the strange, eerie atmosphere they'd just left behind. But both of them were still drenched, Loki’s clothes dripping with water and [Y/N]’s posture slightly stiff from the tension of the ordeal.

They’d barely exchanged a word as they emerged, the weight of their previous interaction hanging between them. Neither of them could deny that something had shifted, something unresolved that neither was eager to discuss. Loki was lost in his thoughts, glancing sideways at [Y/N] with an unreadable expression.

But as they approached the clearing, standing against a large stone formation was none other than Frigga. Her presence was calming, and yet there was a knowing look in her eyes that immediately set both of them on edge.

“You’ve both made it out, I see,” Frigga said, her voice gentle but carrying an edge of authority. “I trust everything went well?”

Loki’s lips twitched into a wry smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “As well as can be expected, Mother,” he replied, though his voice lacked its usual confidence. The last thing he wanted was a conversation about what conspired within the confines of the underground chamber, or how the whole ordeal had affected him.

Frigga’s eyes shifted to [Y/N], a soft smile curving her lips. “And you, my dear? How do you fare after all that?”

[Y/N], still processing the surreal events of the day, met Frigga’s gaze. “I’m... fine. Just a bit shaken, I think,” she said with a small, tight smile, the weight of the strange magic still lingering in her bones. “It was unexpected, to say the least.”

Frigga nodded knowingly. “Magic always has a way of testing us when we least expect it. It’s not just about strength, but about understanding oneself in the face of the unknown.” She turned back to Loki, her expression softening. “You both seem... different. Changed, perhaps. A little more than you were when you entered.”

Loki’s eyes flicked away from her, unwilling to admit anything. He didn’t like how much she could read into his silence. “We handled it,” he muttered, but it was clear to Frigga that he was brushing aside something deeper.

Her gaze softened, but there was a flicker of something serious in her eyes. “I can see that. But you seem… distracted.”

Loki’s shoulders tensed, and he tried to evade her penetrating stare with an insistent tone. “There’s nothing to tell, Mother.”

Frigga’s gaze sharpened for a moment, and she placed a hand on Loki’s arm, holding him there.  “I can see the truth in your heart.” Her voice softened, as though speaking only for him. 

Loki’s eyes flitted to [Y/N], then back to his mother. He couldn’t seem to hold her gaze for long, the truth of his feelings hanging just out of reach, even from him.

Frigga, sensing his reluctance, decided to take a different approach. She raised her hand slightly, and with a simple wave of magic, she reached into Loki’s mind, transferring a glimpse of his own emotions to her. His confusion, his attraction, the pull that was impossible to ignore. She felt it all, a brief but powerful connection.

When she released him, Loki staggered slightly, blinking as though coming out of a trance. His gaze shifted uncomfortably. “You’re always meddling in my head.”

Frigga smiled gently, a knowing gleam in her eye. “It’s my job, my son. And sometimes, it’s necessary.”

Loki opened his mouth to protest, but Frigga raised a hand. “Not now, Loki. Not yet.”

He was silent for a moment, his frustration clear. “Fine. But I’m leaving.”

Frigga allowed him that moment, her expression a mixture of understanding and mild amusement. “Go, then. But I will be waiting for you when you’re ready to talk.”

Loki nodded curtly, shooting one last look at [Y/N] before turning to leave in a hurry, no doubt eager to escape whatever thoughts his mother had stirred up within him.

Frigga turned to [Y/N] with a soft smile, one that carried a quiet weight. “You’re handling this better than he is, I think.”

[Y/N] chuckled softly, feeling the weight of everything she had gone through. “I’m not so sure about that,” she said. “But... it’s certainly complicated.”

Frigga placed a hand on her shoulder as they began walking toward the throne room. “Indeed. But I have no doubt you’ll handle it well. Now, come. I believe there’s something we need to discuss regarding what happened.”

As they walked side by side, her voice rose again and took on a slightly teasing tone. “Though, I must admit... you two are quite the pair. Loki doesn’t often find himself so... ruffled. It seems you’ve caught his attention in more ways than one.”

[Y/N] looked at her, surprised by the comment. “It’s not like that.”

Frigga raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth curling up. “Isn’t it?”

She smiled wryly, unsure of how to respond, but the playful look in Frigga’s eyes made it clear that this conversation was far from over.

And as they approached the throne room, [Y/N] couldn't help but wonder just how much Frigga truly saw.

⠀⠀⠀

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[voluntadfuerte]

@mxrvelouscreations

Loki took all the romancing that Steve offered their way. Took all the love, the caring they could get until Steve realised he was better off without them. But so far, Steve had accepted them completely and had shown nothing but love towards them. They replied to the kiss more eagerly. "I want you here. We can have comfort later. I know you want to take me here, Steve."

@voluntadfuerte

Steve had promised romance for the night. Loki deserved that, deserved more than that in all honesty. Once they had made it back from their dinner, he watched as they hopped up onto the counter, a soft smile tugging at his lips as they mentioned how they skipped dessert. "You are a tease," he hummed, pushing Loki's legs apart to step into, kissing them gently. "You want it right here? Or shall I take you somewhere more comfortable?"

[wallcrawlparker]

"Do I need to baby you"

From here

Peter squinted at Loki, clearly needing to sleep though he was being a big dumb spider-boy and refusing to sleep. He was really good at coming up with nonsensical reasons as to why he needed to stay awake - inventing projects and volunteering for any task that was brought up.... But in truth, he just couldn't handle the nightmares anymore.

"Why would you do that?? I'm a big, grown man." The way he insisted kinda made this debatable.