if your request still open, can I request with Loki with fem reader?? Reader is also a magican/witch with star/celestial magic like channel power of the sun/moon or summon meteors(In Marvel comic I don't notice many or any characters who use this type of magic much, which differentiate her fron other magic users) They have some bicker about magic and teasing while in battle, getting jealous with someone got too close with another and basically a tsundere to each other. Until other heroes started teasing them both then they start opening up their feelings. I hope this is not too much!
Okay, first of all, I am SO SORRY this took so long! My requests had originally filled up when I first got this ask, but I liked the idea of it so much that I wanted to go ahead and carry it over to the next batch I did. It also kinda turned more into a "rivals to lovers" sort of thing with more focus on them bickering, but I hope you still enjoy!
Vexing
Loki x Fem!CelestialWitch!Reader
Description: One has the powers of a god. The other has celestial power to rival that of the gods. Surely that won't affect anyone's fragile egos and bring about a rivalry that is definitely not a cover for underlying romantic tensions, right?
Warnings/Disclaimers: (Marvel) Rivals to lovers, mild (canon typical) violence, Loki gets a meteor chucked at him, Loki gets pinned to the ground, lots of name calling
A/N: I love putting Loki in Situations™. Also, I've been playing a LOT of Baldur's Gate 3 lately, so I feel like some Astarion crept into my Loki characterization. I think I have a soft spot for devilish, cocky guys with tragic/muddled pasts.
Word Count: 2.7k
It was business as usual on the front lines. Your team prepared themselves in a small yet intricately designed and gilded bedroom while awaiting the order to move. Of course, with it being his, Loki takes advantage of the downtime to lounge across the bed. Emerald eyes stare daggers into yours.
“Careless.”
“Insensible.”
“Infuriating.”
“Egotistical.”
“Irreverent!”
“...Cowardly.”
Loki gasps, hand over his heart, pausing this ridiculous, verbose exchange of insults that was all too common between the two of you.
“I am many things, you fool, but to call me cowardly--”
You sneer, victorious. Rare was it that words cut him so deep. Rarer still for only one to accomplish it. A snicker hisses through your teeth.
“What do you call that last battle, then? When you left me to die?” you accuse, fully aware of the exaggeration of your aforementioned situation. Command of celestial forces meant you were hardly ever in a position quite so dire or lethal.
He scoffs in disgust. “I call that trust in my allies. Duty called me elsewhere, and you handle yourself well enough.” He gives you a once-over from head to toe and back up again, crossing his arms. “Clearly you made it back unscathed. Mostly.”
“Excuses,” you retort. Still, his compliment doesn't escape you even under the veneer of irritation. “You were invisible the moment someone aimed a gun at you.”
“Well forgive me if I have a sense of self-preservation!” he snaps.
“Can you two lovebirds keep it down!?” Rocket butts in. Clawed fingertips massage at his own temples. “You're giving me a flarking headache!”
That’s the one and only thing that bothers you both more than each other. “We are not lovebirds!” you argue in unison.
The raccoon bristles at your combined exclamation, using his oversized gun to gesture wildly at both of you while he talks. “Yeah, right! Maybe if you idiots exchanged spit instead of insults, the rest of us could enjoy a bit of peace and quiet!”
You flinch away from the firearm and feel your face heat up in a frustrating cocktail of embarrassment and anger. One glance at Loki reveals a flushed face with teeth bared in a snarl. Still, you refuse to admit just how alike the two of you really are. After all, if you're so much alike, then you might as well have spent all this time hurling insults at a mirror.
“That you would even suggest such a thing is more potent an insult than anything either of us have conjured,” Loki bemoans. “I wouldn't dare taint my lips with the likes of this… this starry-eyed witch.”
“Take that back,” you snarl, embarrassment gone and replaced with the competitive fervor that comprises much of your rivalry. “You're just jealous that I wouldn't let you.”
“Pah!” he exclaims. “Projection is a terrible look on you, my dear.”
Power courses quietly through your veins. Under the guise of rolling your eyes and puffing out a sigh, the swift incantation goes miraculously unnoticed. You cross your arms wordlessly and stare at him. Your hip pops out. The silence draws an inquisitive, distrustful side-eye from Loki, but you simply watch and wait. It's only a matter of time now.
“Stop staring at me like that. It’s unsettling.” His lip curls as he sits upright on the mattress, crossing his legs. You catch the twitch of his eye as the seconds go by. “What is wrong with you!? I know I must be lovely to look at, but--”
A meteor crashes through the ceiling and into Loki and his pristine four-poster bed. Everyone except you scrambles away from the wreckage as stone and dust clatter and crunch from the impact. A high-pitched screech sounds from beneath the fiery rock. With a wave of your hand, the celestial matter crumbles into glittering stardust, leaving a slightly crushed and charred Loki crumpled atop the ruined emerald sheets.
“How…” He braces himself on one arm before his hand slips on the rubble dusted silk, leaving him to face plant right back onto the bed. “How dare you, you… you lunatic!?!” Embers glow at the fringe of his cloak and he yelps before frantically slapping it to put out the budding flames.
You don’t grace him with an answer. You simply giggle at his misfortune.
-----
Things like that were becoming the new normal between you two. In fact, you often spent more time in training and scrimmages sabotaging each other than you did fighting the enemy team. It was headache inducing for everyone involved.
One day, while the two of you were wholly consumed with your argument, three of your teammates huddled together to discuss strategy. Not strategy for the upcoming battle, mind you.
They needed a strategy to get the two of you to work with the rest of your team.
“I say we just use these flark-faces as meat shields,” Rocket suggests, irritation clear as day as his lips pull back over his sharp teeth. “Maybe the rest of us will survive longer.”
“I am Groot.” He closes his eyes solemnly and shakes his woody head.
“I know it’s messed up, Groot. But is it really more messed up than covering their asses!?” the raccoon argues.
“I am Groot,” the tree counters with a nod.
“A gentle touch!?” he exclaims. “Have you seen these idiots?” He gestures with a paw towards the two of you, still oblivious to the rest of the world as you shout obscenities back and forth. “They wouldn’t notice a flarking slap to the face unless it came from one of them!”
“He… may have a point,” Adam Warlock chimes in, bringing a fist to his chin pensively.
Rocket narrows his beady eyes at the golden man. “Who, me? Or mister sunshine and rainbows over here?”
“Dare I say both?” he responds hesitantly. When that only intensifies Rocket’s squinting, he continues. “Perhaps if one or both of them felt encouraged to perform their duties…”
“Yeah. Right. These are full grown adults, ya golden dunce. You can't just slap a gold star on their forehead and expect them to behave.”
“I am Groot.”
“I know you'd like a gold star, Groot. That's not the flarking point right now!”
“Just…” Adam interrupts, holding up a golden palm towards them. “Allow me, if you will.”
As expected, you and Loki are so caught up in the throes of your heated argument that you nearly jump out of your skin upon feeling a gentle finger tapping your shoulder from behind.
“By the stars, I--!” You clasp a hand over your heart in shock. But the tension fades upon seeing the newcomer’s face. “Oh, Adam. It’s just you.”
The golden man smiles warmly. “Forgive the interruption. I had hoped to discuss strategy with you before the upcoming battle.” He proffers a hand to you. “Would you care to join me?”
Loki cocks his head to the side and scoffs quite loudly. One hand finds his hip as he leans towards the so-called “perfect” being.
“Excuse me?” Loki was not about to be ignored. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, considering you were grown in a lab, but I always expected a bit more decorum from you.” The barbed words are accompanied by the curl of his lip and the furrowing of his perfectly trimmed brows.
You hadn’t even had the chance to accept Adam’s offer. You’re not even sure you were going to in the first place. But if this was to be your rival’s reaction to such an innocent gesture, far be it from you to deny yourself the pleasure of his irritation. Your eyes narrow, crinkling a bit in the corners as your lips pull into a cheshire grin.
“His manners are perfect, if you ask me. As is his taste. Clearly you’re not needed for this conversation, Loki Laufeyson.” You take a step forward, prodding a finger into the supple, silken fabrics he adorned himself in. Delicious adrenaline courses through your veins as you allow yourself to indulge in this daring cockiness. “Know when to step aside for your betters, hm?”
“That was not my intention--”
Loki ignores the golden man completely as he slaps your hand off of him. “My betters? Dare I remind you that it is I who was assigned the role of strategist on this team?” he hisses. “If anyone misunderstands their place here, it is you.”
His face is dangerously close to yours now, nearly spitting his words onto your skin. You glower at him, daring him to continue, to dig further down the grave he’s already begun for himself.
“You are a duelist. Yet you can’t even excel at that, can you? Face it. You are worthless on your own,” he jeers.
Tension snaps. Adam is long forgotten as your fists find their places at his collar, crumpling the expensive garment as you express your barely concealed rage behind the sharp exhale that hisses through your teeth. Suddenly you’re pushing him to the ground, pinning him beneath your body weight, practically snarling as your face hovers inches above his.
“I can duel just fine, you disgusting snake,” you snap. “But I’m happy to continue this little demonstration if you’re not yet convinced.”
“If the two of you could please just--”
“Leave them, Goldie. We tried,” Rocket interjects. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, they’ll kill each other, and then we’ll get new teammates!”
“I am Groot!” If trees could gasp, that would perhaps be the best way to describe the noise coming from their verdant companion.
Yet none of it matters. None of the others matter.
All you can hear is the frantic cadence of your own heartbeat.
And all you can feel is Loki pinned beneath you with his own heart pounding in his chest.
You press your forearm against his clavicle, just beneath his throat. A warning.
Loki has never excelled at heeding warnings.
“Well?” he sneers. “I am on the edge of my proverbial seat waiting for the rest of your… demonstration, my dear.” His tone is taunting, teasing even, with a face that is the picture of calm. Still, you know the organ caged in his ribs beats to an entirely different rhythm.
And yet still you stay your hand. For Loki is nothing if not deceptive, resourceful, clever. All the wonderful little compliments you daren’t feed his ego with by admitting them aloud.
“I vex you, don’t I?” he whispers with a coy smirk tugging at his irritating lips.
Your forearm inches higher, applying pressure to the base of his throat. It merely restricts the airflow rather than cutting it off completely, but clearly more than warnings were needed.
“Projection is a terrible look on you,” you retort with a tilt of your head.
He chokes out a laugh. “Ah, how wonderful it is to know my words have lingered this long in that pretty little head of yours.” He nearly had you with that. Nearly. But neither one of you missed the tail end of his attempted jab. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your current position suddenly feels much more compromising than before.
No. He’s toying with you. You have to stand your ground.
Fire with fire, then.
“I would never claim to have had a normal childhood,” you begin, perplexion twisting Loki’s features at your sudden change in topic, “but I do remember that the adults loved to talk about how boys would always tease the girls they liked.” Satisfaction bubbles within you as you watch the realization and resulting irritation dawn upon him. “Never believed it until now.”
The master of deception is quick to mask the way you so easily riled him up. “Childish nonsense.”
“Then why were you turning red a moment ago?” you ask with a snicker. You know it’s a lie, but you need to dig your claws in further, crawl deeper underneath his skin.
“Perhaps that is because of the brute on top of me that is trying to choke me!” he exclaims with no small effort.
You roll your eyes and withdraw your arm, but you’re quick to grab his wrists and pin them above his head. Can’t be too careful.
…Even if it means you’re practically straddling the object of your ire.
“There. Better?”
Though he does his best to hide it, the god of mischief does feel a blush burgeoning beneath the surface of his skin now. A celestial goddess sits atop him, loathe as he is to admit it. Or, at least, as close as any mortal being could get to godhood. Some part of him deep down finds you deserving of the title.
Truly, you were much closer to the mark than he would ever willingly admit. When he looks at you there is fascination and vexation in equal measure, yet above all there is respect. After all, only those who have earned his respect are worthy to be deemed a proper rival of the Asgardian god.
And when Adam had come to speak with you? Oh. He couldn’t care less about strategizing with the team. But the fact that you interacted so willingly, so amicably with a man with more goodness and light in his heart than Loki could ever hope to achieve across all lifetimes? It was unthinkable. Unbearable.
“Loki? Anybody home in there?” Your voice interrupts the turbulent flood of feelings miring any coherent thought in his mind. To his surprise, he thinks he detects a hint of concern in your tone.
“Simply plotting your demise in silence,” he finally replies in jest.
A laugh huffs through your nostrils. “I would have assumed that would be second nature for you by now.”
There’s a shift in the air. You’re not glaring at him anymore. Your grip remains firm in restraining him, but you’re careful not to cut off circulation.
Vexing, indeed.
His head thumps softly against the ground beneath you as he lets out a dramatic sigh. “Perhaps it is difficult for you to imagine, but I think of things other than you throughout the day.”
“So you are thinking about me?” you retort with a cheeky grin. He winces. Damn. He walked into that one. But if there’s anyone who could meet your wit, surpass it even, it was him.
Fire with fire.
“And what if I am?” he counters boldly, his emerald gaze meeting yours unflinchingly.
Oh. Well… shit. You don’t have time to rein in the soft, surprised gasp that whispers through your slackened jaw. You blink several times, as though that might somehow blink this situation out of existence, and your eyes dart around everywhere but Loki’s face. What composure you had left was crumbling. You feel too close to him now, releasing your grip as you sit upright.
The two of you have exchanged countless banters, infinite contests of insults and prose, yet your actions now have spoken more clearly of your true feelings than anything he’s heard from your lips.
He shifts, and you let him, until he has propped himself up with you still straddling his lap. You feel confused, frozen, intrigued. When words continue to fail you, he speaks again.
“Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible to admit that you plague my thoughts nearly every waking moment,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper as his hand delicately cups your chin. The pad of his thumb brushes gingerly over the plush of your parted lips. “Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible if you admitted the same of me.”
“You…” Your breath tickles his thumb. Words are difficult to come by when his admission has utterly stupefied you. Still, subtle glances speak clearly enough. Loki is nothing if not perceptive.
“Yes, me,” he replies cheekily. Fingers tug your chin closer as hooded eyes fixate upon your lips. “It’s always about me, after all.”
A quiet snort leaves you. “You’re right. You do vex me.” Still, you lean in until your lips are a hairsbreadth apart from his. There was an undeniable something between you. These sparks were not of your celestial doing, after all.
He chortles, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. Delicate, soft lips press almost tenderly to yours for but a fleeting moment. “The feeling is mutual, my dear.”
