#avenger!loki

He felt...forgiven.

You didn’t judge him – being one of the first who realized what he’d been put through by Thanos – but you didn’t pity him either, just sought to show him a better day, one step at a time.

So he became your shadow on the battlefield, owing to keep your safe.

And he failed.

Now he’s sitting by your side at the infirmary bed. Still in his leathers spattered by dirt and blood. Holding your hand that feels cool even to his touch.

The others have tried to coax him to rest. To shower. They come by sometimes, offering him nourishment that he silently ignores, all the time watching your face instead. What little he can see of it. He hates the tube going into your mouth even if he can understand it’s helping your breathe – the hiss of the machine a constant rhythm that reminds him of his failure.

He’s drawing on his magic to stay awake. He’d try to seep it into you but his magic is not for healing and all he could do was soothe your dreams. Yes, you dream. He can see it in the flutter of your eyelashes, the movement behind the eyelids. He wish he could be there with you, but entering the dreams of another is not without risks...and he needs to be there when you wake up.

Because you must wake up.

You have to.

Already a part of him is aching at the idea of losing you – a fear he won’t entertain but it keeps pressing into his mind and heart whenever he isn’t actively thinking of something else.

“Norns,” he mumbles, thumb rubbing gently along your knuckles, “don’t cut her thread yet. Give her time. Take of my years instead.” He sighs. Watches your face closely but there’s no difference. Of course there’s not. “Ancestors watch over her. Don’t take her...don’t take her from me...”

It’s selfish, but the idea of living even a day without you now that he has find you is too frightening and he feels powerless. He has to rely on others to tend to you where his own knowledge and skills fail. It’s been days and still there’s no sign of improvement.

Until the third day where your fingers twitch in his grasp.

Scared and exited at the same time, Loki calls for the doctors and while he’s loathe to step aside, he does so to let them work and moments later the tube is removed, causing your throat to spasm for a moment before stilling.

All are quiet. Watching. Waiting.

Then you breathe on your own: a rattling breath that makes Loki’s world blurry.

He’s allowed back at your side, clutching your hand in his and over the next few hours he feels that it gets warmer. Now and then your fingers twitch and each time his own breath will catch in his chest as he studies your face...but your eyes remain closed.

Another day passes and Loki’s magic is running out, he’s exhausted, barely holding it together. Head nodding as his eyes fall shut on their own despite his efforts.

“Llo...Lo...”

His gaze snaps to you.

You’re fighting to open your eyes, face scrunched in the effort of that and speaking. “Lo...ki...”

“I’m here,” he croaks, soothing your cheek with the free hand.

His heart is feather-light all of a sudden. Norns be blessed: they’ve granted you more time!

“S...st...” You manage to open an eye and it swivels in the socket until you spot him. “Stink...” But there’s a tiny tug upwards of the corner of your mouth.

“I love you too,” he whispers, just for you to hear.

Bruce was hanging a serious-looking plastic bag above your head; it was only when you traced the line that you realised it was connected to a canula in your forearm.

“Welcome back,” he said with a smile. “How’re you feeling?”

“Ugh. Awful. What’s in the bag?”

“Just fluids. Y’all had a pretty rough night.”

Rough… It all came flooding back to you. The lab. The flask. The wild, uninhibited hours spent entangled with the pale, beautiful, trickster god.

“Oh God,” you muttered, then realising how they must have found you, “oh Christ - did the Captain see me naked?” You lifted your hands to cover your face in humiliation; your entire body protested at the sudden movement, and you were abruptly aware that you were very, very sore.

Banner looked surprised, and a little horrified. “No! No, when we got there you were passed out under a blanket, and Loki was meditating on the other side of the pool.”

Loki. True to his word, his priority had been to protect you. What did he tell them?

“Is he – alright? Wait, what do you mean, “got there”? Where am I?”

You finally had the wherewithal to take in your surroundings. You were in what seemed to be a makeshift medical bay in a large canvas tent; through the open tent flaps, you could spot the finger-like protrusion of Sundial Peak pointing up into the sky. It looked like early evening.

“You’re back at the Hall’s Gap base camp. Loki’s fine. Exhausted. He – he carried you down.”

You stared at him. “Carried me… What?”

“I mean, the rest of us – me, Thor, Cap, all of us – we took turns at the other end of the stretcher. But he took the front handles the whole way down. Insisted.” He shrugged.

It was all too much to process. You swallowed, then tried a different tact.

“Am I – cured? I mean,” you shook your head to clear it and instantly regretted it. “The fungicides... It wasn’t – what was it?”

“Ah – yeah. Sorry about that. Not a fungus, it turns out – a parasite. Those meds never had a chance.”

A parasite. You shuddered. “And – what, you’ve developed a cure already?” Even for a genius being bankrolled by Tony Stark, that seemed fast.

“Oh. Ah, no. It was…”

“Oh ho, she’s awake!” Ray’s sharp accent stabbed through the peaceful evening air. “Those antimalarials work a treat, eh?”

“I don’t…”

“It was Ray’s idea, actually,” Bruce explained. “Once we figured out that it was a parasite, we broke into the village pharmacy and grabbed a few doses of chloroquine. Tony’s got a team in town now, distributing it to the residents.”

“So, what – Loki and I were the guinea pigs?”

“Ah – no,” Banner said again, shifting awkwardly and looking anywhere but Ray’s direction. “No, we… ah – we three…” He trailed off, cheeks a delightful shade of pink; you understood very clearly what he, Ray and Thor had been engaged in when you’d tried to call the previous evening.

“Best night I’ve had in twenty years,” Ray said with a grin and a wink. “The big one’s got quite the weapon on him. Anyway - you’d better go tell that brooding mate of yours that you’re back in the land of the living.”

You looked to Bruce, whose face was still bright red. “Is that alright? Can I get up?”

“Yeah, if you can keep this above your head.” He handed you the saline bag attached to your arm; you tried awkwardly to lift it above you, but everything hurt too much.

“Here,” Ray offered, “how’s this.” She wedged the plastic handle of the bag into the jagged end of her walking stick, then planted the stick in your hands. “Oughta keep ya pretty upright, anyway.”

You stood, and for the first time, you noticed you were wearing your own clothing; another one of Loki’s gifts, no doubt. You took one wobbly step, then another, until you were confident that you could move about on your own, then followed Ray out of the med bay.

You found Loki at the edge of the lake, skipping stones across the water. He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, and you both spoke at once.

“Loki, I’m so sorry—”

“Please accept my apologies—”

You looked at him quizzically. “Loki… It was all my fault. I broke the flasks. If it hadn’t been for me, we never would have…” You stopped at the look on his face.

“Actually,” he said softly, “the culture flasks were sterile. The Doctor believes it most likely that we were infected upon close proximity to the rats.”

The dead rats in the lab. Or rather, in Loki’s interdimensional pocket. Or wherever they were now.

You hadn’t been aware of the guilt you were carrying until the weight of it was lifted. Now, you felt the heady rush of relief. Sterile. Not my fault. Almost unconsciously, you sat down beside him.

“…ask again that you please accept my deepest apologies,” Loki was saying. He bowed his head and lifted his hand to his chest.  

You were quiet for a moment, then said, “Banner told me what you did. Bringing me down off the mountain. I… Thank you. And thank you for… for staying with me.”

The corner of his mouth edged up into a smirk, and he raised his eyes to yours. “If I may boast,” he said in response, “the drugs they gave us had not yet taken effect when we brought your stretcher back to camp. It was the hardest” he paused for effect, “hike of my life.”

You imagined him sporting a raging hard-on as he carried you down the mountain, and laughed.

“You know the other three…”

“Oh, I heard. Your compatriot shared extensive details. A ‘Thorgy’, I believe she termed it.”

“Oh God, please don’t say any more.” Still laughing, you gave an exaggerated shudder. Then you sobered. “Um - how are you now? Recovered?”

“What exactly are you asking, darling?”

 “What? No! I mean – I just wanted to make sure…”

He smiled. “I jest, of course. I will be fine. A little more wary of abandoned research animals in future, but that only seems prudent.” He reached out and took your hand. “And you? Are you… well?”

You stared down at your hand, clasped in his. It was ridiculous – pathetic, really – that this simple touch could elicit the flutter of nervous warmth now inching up your arm. Not after… After everything. And yet you found yourself hoping he wouldn’t let you go.

“Yeah, I’m… I’ll be OK.” You gave his hand a small squeeze. “So – so that’s it, then?”

“That is it.”

You stood, trying to pull your hand from his grasp. But Loki held tight.

“Unless…”

You swallowed. “Unless?”

“Dinner. Next Saturday evening? My apartment. As I said, lefse is only truly delicious when it is fresh off the griddle.”

Each failure to locate him made a small, irritating knot form in Theo’s chest; a thought that maybe she missed something, or maybe he was avoiding her. She caught herself rolling her eyes at the idea; after all, they were past the point where he’d avoid her if he was mad at her… right?

After each fruitless round of searching, she’d trudge back to her room and try to occupy herself for a bit—painting, practicing instruments, reading medical journals—but the question of where he was and why she couldn’t find him never left the back of her mind, leaving her restless and distracted. It was only a matter of time before she’d abandon her half-hearted distractions and set out on another search.

Her stubborn need to locate him, combined with a pang in her stomach and the realization she hadn’t eaten a damn thing all day, led her on the next search.

Once again, knocking on Loki’s door brought no result.

As she made her way down the hall, the scent of garlic and rosemary floated towards her, accompanied by the sizzle of something cooking on the stove. The mouth-watering combination was all it took for her to decide to make a quick stop in the shared kitchen; after all, she hadn’t found him for hours, so what difference would a few more minutes make?

When she turned the corner into the kitchen, she stopped in her tracks. 

There he was—standing at the stove, hair tied back loosely with a few strands falling free, sleeves shoved past his elbows as he worked. The black collared shirt clung just enough to trace the shape of him: the broad cut of his shoulders, the long lines tapering down his back. Each shift of muscle pulled at the fabric, precise and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. His forearms flexed with every measured turn of the wooden spoon, revealing glimpses of lean muscles in the warm kitchen light. 

And then there were the jeans: dark, slim-fitted, hugging his legs and leaving little mystery about the shape of his hips or the way his ass fit perfectly in them. Sharp, toned, distractingly perfect. 

He was wholly absorbed in the slow swirl of vegetables and cream-colored sauce, seemingly oblivious, while she stood there doing something much less dignified: staring.

Her mouth twitched, equal parts exasperated and entertained by herself. She’d spent the whole day half-convinced he hated her, and the second she found him she was ogling him like a shameless groupie. Still, her eyes lingered longer than they should have before she finally dragged them upwards, silently praying he didn’t notice. She bit the inside of her cheek, heat prickling at the back of her neck. 

“You need not lurk in the distance,” Loki’s voice was low, smooth, carrying that faint edge that made it hard to tell whether he was amused or irritated. “If you have something to say, say it.”

“I’ve been looking for you,” Theo admitted, closing the distance until she stood beside him, leaning her hip against the counter. “But I couldn’t find you anywhere. I started to think you were… avoiding me.” She let the words hang, teasing but not daring to press too hard.

He didn’t answer right away, eyes on the pan. Then, the corner of his mouth lifted ever-so-slightly. “I have been… occupied,” he said, deliberately vague, though his gaze flicked toward her for a fraction of a second.

“Occupied?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Cooking? Working? Errands? Or playing hide and seek with me and not telling me?”

A flicker of green light pulsed across his sleeve as his fingers tightened briefly on the handle of the spoon. “A combination, perhaps,” he said carefully, stirring again. His voice softened just enough that it wasn’t entirely a joke. “I imagine the means by which I occupy my time are not why you sought me out...”

“You’re my friend and I wanted to talk to you?” Theo tried, though Loki sent her a look that told her he knew better.

“… You wish to discuss your rendezvous,” He said flatly, turning back to the stove. After a heavy pause, he sighed. “Dare I ask about the outcome?”

Theo opened her mouth, ready to launch into the sharp little speech she’d rehearsed all day…

… Only for every word to vanish on her tongue.

The neat satisfaction of proving him wrong, of showing she wasn’t rattled—it all crumbled to dust in the silence between them. All she could think of instead was that damn comment of his from before, about why he didn’t date, about how civilians could never understand. 

It was ridiculous that the comment was what stuck, looping in her head while she stood there grasping for anything to say. Her jaw tightened as her fingers drummed restlessly against her arm, nails grazing over her sleeve in short, impatient bursts. She shifted her weight, bracing her hip harder into the counter as if grounding herself against her own annoyance.

Eventually, she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and cursing herself all the while, before she answered: “…You were right.”

That drew Loki’s gaze fully to her, hard and sharp. His eyes studied her reaction, tracking every flick of her fingers and the curve of her lips. “I explicitly told you not to come crying to me when he hurt—”

“—No, not about that.” She cut him off with a quick shake of her head. “If anyone left that conversation crying, it was him.”

He stilled, spoon paused mid-stir. When it resumed, it moved slower, more deliberately. One dark brow arched, lips pressed thin. “Is that so? At the fundraiser, you said it was not worth it to destroy him.”

“I didn’t destroy him,” Theo countered, confidence returning with a smug twist to her mouth. “I just called him on his bullshit. Not my fault he didn’t like the truth.”

For a flicker of a second, the line of his jaw eased. Not approval, exactly, but something closer to reluctant surprise. His eyes darted briefly to her fingers gripping the edge of the counter. “That is… not quite what I expected you to say.”

“I told you, I wasn’t going because I still had feelings for him,” Theo said, rolling her eyes. “I went because I had questions. The chance to tell him off was just icing on the cake.”

“Questions?” His voice was calm, but she noticed his grip on the spoon tighten, knuckles pale against the wood.

Theo’s shoulders tensed, but she forced them to relax; working herself up wouldn’t do anyone any good. 

“I wanted to know why he left—” she explained, careful to keep her tone casual, nonchalant, “—if what the tabloids spun was true, or if there was more to it.”

Loki’s gaze followed her movements, tracking her hands as they shifted along the counter, and then he folded his arms in perfect mimicry of her own. The wooden spoon clattered faintly as it landed in the pan, more forceful than necessary. “Did you get your answer?”

“Yeah...” She let out a second, heavier breath. “That’s what I meant about you being right: Avengers and civilians don’t mix.”

For the first time, the sharpness in his eyes dulled, and the scowl he wore faded into something more sullen. 

“Typically I relish any opportunity to be correct,” he reluctantly admitted, “But for once it does not hold its usual joy.”

“It’s fine,” Theo waved him off before the heaviness in his tone could settle. “I know now.”

His gaze lingered on her a beat too long, tracking the small curve of her shoulder. “Was it worth your time to meet with him?”

“Yeah, actually.” She found herself smiling, wry and a little surprised. “Turns out I had a lot to say.”

Loki’s chest lifted with a slow inhale, then he tilted his head. His eyes flicked to her fingers again, noticing how she flexed them unconsciously. “Such as?”

“I told him how fucked up it was to constantly degrade someone who protected him from shadow beasts twice and who hadn’t publicly said a bad thing about him, despite having every reason to do so. And how much of a dick move it was to break up with me in a voicemail when he knew I was injured and miserable from fighting; even if he was being honest and was scared about the possibility of me dying someday in a fight, he could have at least waited to tell me to my face. I also told him he needed to call his PR team off and stop using women as a scapegoat for his shortcomings, and that he needed therapy.” She laughed outright, thinking about the way sat there, floundering amidst her verbal onslaught. “He looked like he was about to shit himself when I left.”

“Do you think he will do so?” Loki’s tone was flat, but the faintest glint of amusement caught the edges of his eyes.

“I don’t know. I don’t think anyone’s ever challenged him like that before.”

“And if he does not relent?”

“The best revenge is a life well-lived.” Theo shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. “If someone asks me about it, I’ll be honest. But I’m not wasting my time responding to him.”

His gaze sharpened again, shoulders drawing taut. His fingers flexed once against the counter, then rested, betraying a flash of tension. “If someone asks?”

“Well…” Theo tilted her head, eyes flicking to his, teasing lightly though her voice stayed calm. “You remember that song I helped record? Loved You A Little? I’m sure when it comes out, people will ask if it’s related.”

The shift in him was immediate, like a door slamming shut. His voice was low, each word measured: “You’ve asserted repeatedly that your feelings for him were not love; and yet, you contributed to a song about loving him?”

Theo stared at him, unimpressed. “If I was just a lie to you, well you were less than that to me—never loved you a little,” She sang, letting the lyric bite the air between them. “It’s literally about not being in love. The guys from The Maine wrote it. They just asked me to sing.”

His jaw eased, but only barely.

He turned back to the stove, adjusting the pan with too much force. The spoon trembled in its orbit before steadying again. His shoulder brushed the edge of the range hood as he leaned over, subtle but stiff, and she caught the faintest tension in his posture.

“What’s gotten into you?” Theo frowned. “You’re acting so weird about this.”

He flicked a glance at her, green eyes unreadable, then back to the pan. “I assumed you were truthful when you said you no longer cared for the actor. Yet after one meeting, after a song that could be twisted to his name, it appears you’ve devoted more energy to him than you claimed. It is reasonable to question.”

“Seriously?” She blinked, incredulous. “That’s what you took from everything I just said?”

He didn’t answer right away, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the pan though he hadn’t so much as touched it. She noticed the way his shoulders tensed slightly each time her eyes flicked to him.

“I told him to go fuck himself,” Theo said sharply. “I humiliated him. I’m not keeping quiet anymore, which means no one can mistake me for still caring. And the song? It’s catchy. I like the band. End of story.” Her voice dropped, fiercer and more resolute: “Nothing about this says I want him. Everything about it says I don’t. If anything, you should be glad I’m standing up for myself instead of letting him drag me down.”

His lips pressed thin, silence stretching again—but she noticed the way his hand flexed once against the counter before curling into a fist. A shadow of something unspoken passed over his face. 

“You risk being hurt again if you do not return to ignoring him.” When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, strained. “He was never worth your time.”

Theo’s own shoulders loosened at that. “I don’t intend to spend another second on Chris. You don’t have to worry about that.” Then, softer, she said, "I wouldn't have agreed to the whole ‘be seen together’ plan if I wanted to be with anyone else.”

Loki’s jaw ticked slightly. His eyes flicked to her lips, then back to her face, and a brief tension lingered in his neck, almost imperceptible, before he exhaled slowly.

The words seemed to land differently than she meant them to. Loki’s head tilted, eyes fixed on her, a flicker of something raw and unguarded in his expression before he masked it. His shoulders eased, the air around him cooling.

“… Then it seems I owe you an apology for my assumptions.” His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. He drummed his fingers against the counter once, then stilled them. “Perhaps I might make amends by taking you out for dinner?”

Theo blinked, caught off guard. From what she could tell, he was in the middle of making dinner and had wanted nothing to do with her, but now he wanted to go out? “Taking me out to dinner?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, too quickly. “If you’re amenable. I recall that you recently mentioned a new restaurant to try...”

“I appreciate the offer, and I’d be down to go,” She couldn’t help a small laugh. “I just wasn’t sure how that worked when you were already cooking something…”

“Ah, yes,” His mouth twitched, though the usual sharpness of his wit softened at the edges. “I see where the confusion might arise. Though I must confess, despite my title of Prince I do not think I could secure a reservation on such short notice.”

“Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.” Her eyes flicked toward the stove, where the pan still steamed gently. She pushed off the counter and wandered closer, leaning just enough to peek at what he was stirring. “So… what are you making, anyway?”

Loki followed her gaze, then gave a careless little shrug that didn’t match the precision of the spoon as it stirred again under his control. His eyes lingered on her for a fraction longer than necessary. “An experiment.”

“Dangerous words coming from you.” Theo arched a brow, shoulder brushing briefly against his arm before she retreated back against the counter. She noticed the way his hand flexed slightly at the brief contact. “Should I be worried you’re brewing potions in your kitchen now?”

“If I were, you’d be the first to know.” He plucked the spoon from the air, dipping it once before holding it out to her, steam curling upward. His fingers hovered just a beat longer than needed around the handle, almost as if measuring her reaction. “Taste, and tell me if I’ve succeeded.”

Theo hesitated; not because she doubted him, but because of the way he held it, steady and expectant, eyes fixed on her as though her opinion mattered more than he would admit. In that moment, the kitchen seemed quieter, the faint hiss of the stove filling the space between them. She leaned forward, lips brushing the edge of the spoon.

Warm, savory, richer than she’d expected. She licked a trace from her lip, surprise turning into a smile. 

“That’s… actually really good.”

“Actually?” His tone was dry, tinged with a playful offense, but his eyes softened at her approval. His gaze flicked down for a heartbeat to her hands resting lightly on the counter before returning to her face.

“Yeah, turns out you aren’t half bad in a kitchen,” She smirked as she straightened, hip finding its place against the counter again. “Do you only break the culinary skills out when no one’s watching, or have you been hiding this talent from me on purpose?”

He stilled for half a second, the pan forgotten. It wasn’t much, but she noticed it — the tiny falter before he moved again, the subtle tension in his shoulders. The corner of his mouth twitched, and instead of replying he busied himself with the pan, turning his shoulder to her as though suddenly very interested in the food.

Theo tilted her head, catching the small tell, and let her amusement curl at the edges of her voice. “Actually, now that I think about it… we go out to eat all the time.” She gestured toward the pan with a teasing curve of her mouth. “Maybe the apology should be to cook me dinner sometime, instead.”

For once, he seemed almost caught. His grip on the spoon tightened, knuckles paling before he forced his hand to relax. A beat passed, quiet and suspended, before he said without looking at her, “You believe my cooking could serve as adequate penance?”

The pause stretched, longer than it should have, filled with the soft simmer of the pan and the low hum of the refrigerator. Theo shifted against the counter, folding her arms, pressing one shoulder slightly forward as if to anchor herself against the subtle tension in the room. She noticed his eyes flick to her shoulder, then quickly back to the pan, as though he didn’t want her to see he’d noticed.

“I think it’d be more than adequate,” she said finally, letting the tease carry but softer now, warmer. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the faintest flush at the tips of his ears — the only betrayal of his calm.

Something in his expression shifted when he finally glanced back at her — a faint, unguarded glimmer of satisfaction, quickly masked beneath his usual composure. His shoulders eased slightly, but she noticed the micro-movement of his fingers curling once around the spoon, a subtle echo of his attention on her.

He didn’t look flustered, but the corner of his mouth quirked upward, and the faintest trace of a smile softened the lines around his eyes. Even his posture, still upright and controlled, had a subtle tilt toward her. “I daresay, then, I shall have to rise to the occasion.”

She laughed softly, stepping back toward the counter, brushing lightly past him in the motion. The contact was fleeting, but it lingered in the small warmth of the kitchen. She noticed his chest shift slightly, the faintest exhale that hadn’t been there before. “I’ll hold you to that.”

A beat passed, easy now, almost companionable. His eyes flicked back to hers, steady and intent.

“Have you eaten?” His voice lowered, the timbre less of a question and more like an invitation. “I’m quite certain there’s plenty here for two.”

“Well…” Her smile curled, clever and bright, but softer at the edges now. She tipped her chin toward him, eyes catching the gleam of his. “Since you went to all the trouble of poisoning me already, it’d be rude not to see how the rest of it turns out.”

Theo moved first, slipping past him to help set the table. The soft clink of ceramic filled the air as she retrieved plates from the cabinet, passing them to Loki so he could plate the food. Their movements fell into an easy rhythm, unspoken but seamless — her setting out silverware as he carried the plates to the table, the small domesticity of it almost startling in its simplicity.

“Wine?” she asked, plucking a pair of glasses from the cabinet and holding them up for Loki’s approval.

“Yes,” Loki replied, turning back to Theo with a bottle dangling between his fingers. “A small indulgence I picked up off-world. I thought it might suit the occasion.”

She gave him a sidelong look as she took the bottle from him, trying not to blush when their fingers brushed. “You mean your kitchen experiment?”

His mouth twitched, the faintest shadow of a smirk. “Precisely.”

Theo handed him a glass, keeping her own raised. “Then—” her grin widened, playful and teasing, “—to not dying from your experiment.”

He lifted his in answer, crystalline light catching the dark liquid. “To your remarkable bravery in tasting it.”

She clinked his glass with a little laugh. “To discovering your cooking skills after all this time.”

He took the volley smoothly, the curve of his mouth deepening as he met her gaze over the rim. “To your persistence in uncovering them.”

Theo’s smile curled, clever and bright, but her eyes betrayed the flicker of warmth she couldn’t quite hide. She tipped her glass toward his once more, letting the sparkle of the moment carry them forward.

The glasses chimed again, laughter chasing away the hush, and together they settled in to share their private meal.

If I've been unapproachable Or I seem too emotional Life has been a rollercoaster So it goes, I've been Avoiding confrontational Bullshit conversations, so If I forgot to say hello Please don't take it personal

I just need you to say like, "Okay” Okay?

---

Author’s note: HI SORRY I’M LATE. I know last time I said a short break might come from my grandma passing, but that ended up not being the reason for my delay (thankfully!!)… the actual reason was that I didn’t quite like how this chapter was flowing/reading and needed a bit of extra time to get the characters feeling more true to themselves, and unfortunately that also fell during the two busiest workweeks of the year (for me) because of back to school. 

I’m not a teacher but I work in education, and a big part of my role involves helping new students prepare for the year and training peer mentors for different programs; trying to keep it semi-vague as to not share identifying info lol). This was my fourth “back to school” in my current role and it was without a doubt the smoothest, best one yet! I’m so happy with how it went and I got a lot of positive feedback from folks all over the school, from students to school leadership. 

Still, it was a hectic couple of weeks—I was literally writing on my phone between student leader training sessions because that was when I had time to work on it and I didn’t want to lose ideas when they came up 🤣

Grandma’s still here—she definitely has slowed down, but I was able to travel to see her (and my family) last weekend and she knew we were there, which was nice. 

It’s still a bit busier than usual for me as school activities start ramping up with the start of the academic year, so out of an abundance of caution I’m going to say the next update can be expected by Sunday, September 14th Thursday, September 25. If I think it’s ready sooner then I’ll post early, but just looking at what I have going on at the moment I think it’s most likely going to be worth taking the extra time so I don’t feel rushed (and compromise on quality!). 

The mission didn’t go as planned. In fact, it was an utter disaster; a well laid trap in which they fell like flies. It was nobody’s fault, those were the only words Steve spoke but they meant any comfort for the team.

Loki’s head remained nested between his hands, the same image piercing deep on his mind. The face of that young girl as her eyes became dull, right on his arms. His leathers, still stained with her blood, weighed like lead. 

He, the god of chaos, who had seen countless battles in his thousand of years, felt his chest shrinking to the point he could barely breath. Not long ago, this would be just collateral damages. Nothing to be proud of, surely, yet neither the cause of such despondency. But a lot of things had changed of late, even if he refused to admit it. And was the smallest of details the trigger to make him realize that switch. 

That broken piece of the pendant she was wearing - identical to that one you had - was burning on his left pocket. He picked it from the ground as it drew his attention amongst the rubble, and kept it close instinctively. Maybe as a reminder of all the mistakes, all the suffering he had caused and that could never, he would never, allow himself to repeat.

Music played through the ceiling speakers, filling the apartment as you reached for your favorite coffee mug, readying yourself for another quiet evening. Way too much for your liking. The seventh in a row. Because you also couldn’t help but keep the count of them.

Primal, impulsive, desperate. 

A hurricane that would repeatedly leave your entire being -and your apartment- upside-down.

With Loki, you had organically reached the arrangement that, if either of you were feeling stressed, angry or just bored, you would search the other for relief. So was it for the last ten months, although lately you had started wondering how long would it remain that way without one of you getting burned. Most likely you.

And you could see an inkling of that reviewing your last encounters, like something clicked on his head as soon as he was out of you. There was no more jokes and innuendos around the others or clandestine touches, neither so at least the casual chatting while lying tangled between his silky sheets. 

You two fucked, and that was all. Probably he was already losing interest in such simple creature and the game wasn’t funny anymore. Or maybe it was just you, falling too fast and without a net to catch you at the bottom. Whichever the reasons, uncertainty was something you didn’t thought you could bear much longer. 

You tried to collect all those prying thoughts during that time, accepting as a blessing the forced drought while he was out of the compound, in the hopes you could gather the willpower to nip it on the bud.

Three thuds.

That’s all it took to bring you back to reality, almost pouring the boiling water over your hand. Cursing, you grabbed a kitchen cloth to hastily clean the mess and walked towards the front door, opening in a rush to face the cause of your restlessness. 

“Oh…hey. I- I wasn’t expecting you” words came out abruptly, while you warily studied the man in front of you. Concern surpassing confusion with each detail you noticed.

The first thing that gave away something was different was his appearance. He always looked flawless when he knocked at your door or greeted you at his place. No matter the style of his clothes or the lack of them, he would evidence every inch of the god he was on every single occasion. But not that night. Jet black tendrils clung around his ethereal face, that was mostly covered in dirt and what you immediately recognized as dry blood. He seemed scared and vulnerable; he seemed human.

“Lo-“ your voice faded when his hands flew to your face. Slender fingers tracing its outlines with such gentleness, as if verifying everything was where it should. As if trying to prove you were still real. You remained static, afraid of any move that could scare him out of his trance, but the anguish of seeing him so wrecked was too strong at the same time.

“Are you hurt? Is something wrong?” He swallowed a lump, shaking his head slowly before his eyes traveled up to find yours, his hand sliding to carefully push your hair back. Still, that wordless answer only increased your worry. Something bad happened, that you were certain, but you also knew well when it was better to elide the queries. Anyway, those thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a light cough, his throat aching to voice the question that echoed in his mind.

“May I come in?”

It sounded more like a plea.

You held his gaze for a beat, the watery red rim framing those precious aquamarines was constricting your chest with baffling pain. There was no hunger or thirst in them; it was need.

Taking his hand in yours, you gently pulled him inside, releasing it briefly to close the door behind before walking him to your room.

Before you could turn to face him, you felt two arms sneaking under yours, both hands resting on your abdomen and drawing you gently against his chest. A warm sigh fanned your shoulder and made you shudder in anticipation, but again, instead of his teeth as you predicted, were his lips the first to touch your skin, doing it with such tenderness it caught you off guard. It was your body answering earlier than your mind when you raised your hand to find his head, guiding it closer while your neck relaxed to a side to grant him more space.

His mouth kept tracing the arch of your jaw whilst his fingers worked unhurriedly to rid you of the thin woolen sweater, memorizing each curve and mark along the way. His unerring touch erasing any trace of resolution you had mere minutes ago. You broke the embrace briefly to throw your sweater apart and finally face him. Anxious hands, this time your own, reciprocated the favor, undoing the fasteners of his leather combat suit. Instead of rushing you or make use of his powers, he observed quietly your actions as you undressed him fully. He wanted to relish every second of it. 

Once you where done you sought his lips with renewed covet, while the hand that remained on his torso begun its descend to his length. Loki’s hand hunted yours in the process removing it from its target and leaving you utterly confused. He brought it to his face, nuzzling and kissing it.

“Let me do this right for once” his grip loosened, leaving your hand to rest on his shoulders “I just need you to be here” he paused, tipping your chin up to him “I need you with me”

“I’m here” you said with a faint voice, trying to sound reassuring and only then realizing how long you had been holding your breath, barely having the chance to recover it when his lips were catching yours again.

He walked you backwards until your legs bumped against the mattress and you broke the kiss just to pull yourself back and allow him the space to climb in. Loki stood there for a second taking in the sight of you lying there, wanting every detail engraved in the safest place of his mind. 

“So beautiful” 

The thought leaked outside, almost inaudible as he approached to place himself on top of you with sheer care. A tide of shyness washed over you. Ridiculous, given the times he had saw you like that before, the unnameable things those hands had done to every spot of you anatomy. The blush flooding your face was not lost despite the feeble illumination.

His hand ghosted your side down to your hip, eliciting a trail of shivers. Swollen lips creating an undesigned pattern around your collarbones before traveling south, not leaving an inch untouched on their way. He stopped once they met the hem of your underwear. Darkened eyes peeked up to yours, silently asking for a permission you were more than willing to grant. He slid them down slowly, pressing a silent kiss on your knee as he tossed them to the floor, that gesture alone eliciting a quivering sigh.

The god resumed his way back, the tip of his nose brushing up your torso, drinking in your scent as his hand lingered securing your waist. The caution of his movements felt like the sweetest of tortures and your patience was running short with each precise stroke, each skillful flick of his tongue against your burning skin. Gripping both his shoulders like a vice you dragged him up, your mouth searching his with an urgency you hadn’t experienced never before. A sensuous dance of teeth and tongues that was abruptly interrupted by your moans when he cupped your heated mound and started massaging it in lazy circles. 

Agony. That’s how it felt as he turned you into putty over his deft fingers, the crave of him setting you ablaze.

“I need you now, Loki” you moaned into his ear. And obediently he requited your desires.

He raised on his knees carrying you on top of his lap. His hard length breaching inside, your legs naturally locking around his sides. Both groaning in unison as it hit your core, staying there for a second as you adjusted to the achingly pleasant stretch.

Soon he started driving in and out of you excruciatingly slow, your lids falling heavily at the overwhelming sense of pleasure. Every time he buried himself again was pure bliss.

“Let me se those eyes” he whispered against your lips. You obliged, meeting again his pleading gaze and losing yourself in it. He was all around, all your senses clouding to the world outside. 

Each caress, each lunge, each kiss were none other than a statement.

Loki thrusted one last time, slick foreheads pressing against each other, arms holding you fiercely as you would have sworn you could crumble in that very moment. There was no physical way he could be closer, deeper. A broken moan left your throat and you both collapsed together, the heavenly feeling of him pouring his all inside of you making your whole being quiver. After that, the only noise you could hear was his erratic breath against your own as you rode your orgasm before slumping back into the mattress . 

He pulled out carefully and laid between your legs, resting his head on your chest, a strong arm still securing you while your hand softly combed back his tousled waves, engulfed in a lulling haze. 

Fingertips danced absentmindedly outlining the valley between your stomach and your hip while he mustered the courage to speak. 

“I am sorry”

“Hmm” You weren’t sure if you had heard well, his husky voice muffled against your skin. 

Lazily you opened your eyes just to find his looking up into yours. Loki repeated the three words, this time slow and clear. You tried to fit the pieces in your clouded brain. 

“Is it something that happened on the mission?” you spoke softly, granting him the trust to speak openly

“Somewhat” he winced, the dreadful scene flashing for a second. 

Another deep inhale. You held your own. 

“See, the truth is I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And that was terrifying.” 

Thoughts started to race, trying to connect the dots through his words. Loki noticed how you stiffened below him, but left no time before continuing. 

“But then, during the mission…I realized there was something that truly scares me. More than anything else.”

Glassy irises pierced into yours and instinctively you just wanted to comfort him, guiding him up until you were at the same level. 

“I don’t want to lose you” your heart sank with his admission, with a mix of sadness and relief “And I’m sorry I’ve been turning you away lately, when you have always been there for me. I know I don’t deserv-“

“Don’t say it.”

You cupped his face with both hands. 

“Listen, Loki.” You spoke clear, wanting him to understand every word. “I don’t know what happened out there and I don’t need to. But you won’t lose me. No matter what. Or how hard you try to.” 

Your smile was sincere, soothing. He pressed your hand against his cheek, his lips slightly curving upwards, and kissed your palm thoughtfully. Those words didn’t erase the fear, nor the certainty. And for the first time in ages, he felt safe. It was odd and comforting. 

He tilted his head and sought your lips one more time, kissing you with resolution and tenderness.

After all, maybe that’s how love was supposed to feel.

It was Saturday night and you gazed at yourself in the mirror, as you adjusted the straps of your black and emerald dress.

"hmm, good enough",

you shrugged, popping your lips and clicking the lid back on your lipstick.

You where beginning to regret allowing your friend Maria to set you up on this ridiculous blind date, I mean come on, who even did blind dates anymore? And on your one night off this week! Being a personal assistant was tough, but even more so when your boss is none other than Professor Steven Strange, who ironically seemed to have no concept of time when it came to the never ending set of tasks he had for you.

After grabbing a cab, you found yourself arriving at a nice Italian restaurant. Not too fancy but certainly not cheap either, you braced yourself trying to imagine who Maria's friend from work could possible be before you heard a booming voice yelling,

"Lady Y/L/N?"

You turned around confused as all hell to see a tall golden retriever of a man with long blonde hair and a massive smile.

"Please, call me Y/N, I take it you must be Thor? Maria's friend?" you smiled, looking up at the literal god as he took your hand and pressed it to his lips.

At least he was a gentleman, you could certainly give him that. He was already a cut above the usual fools you dated, who thought the height of manners was to apologise for belching at the dinner table, rather than avoiding it.

The night continued with much laughter and chatting, man, this guy could talk, and eat, did you mention eat? As he scoffed his way through his fourth Pizza and his sixth bottle of wine, You noted he began to resemble a drunken labrador, playful but a fucking mess.

As much as you enjoyed his boundless energy and adorable goofyness, there no spark, (which was ironic considering the man literally shot sparks from his body) and no way in hell that you where babysitting his ass.

"I'll make sure he gets home safe and that's that."

You thought to yourself as you both began leaving the restaurant. Thor grabbed your jacket and slapped it onto your back, causing you to stumble forward. He draped his arm around your shoulder, leaning on you, babbling about how Midgardian wine, had nothing compared to potency of Asgardian mead. Which for all his talk, had managed to render him in this sorry state.

"oh, you must come back to the tower and try some, you'll love it lady Y/N, it is nearly as good as the popping delicacies you Midgardians create" Thor slurred while holding his hand out to hail a taxi for you both.

"Sure" you agreed through gritted teeth, even if only doing so to make sure his drunken ass got home safe, the thought alone making you giggle.

Your heels echoed as you walked off the elevator into a cavernous communal area, Thor still leaning on you for support, he headed straight towards the kitchen area, leaving you to drape your jacket over the sofa in front of you.

"this is some place, Thor. " you smiled walking towards the floor to ceiling glass window wall the looked out over New York, your voice practically bouncing off the walls. Being this high above the city, almost made it look peaceful, the warm glow from the street lights giving you a calming feeling, as you stood there and admired the view.

You where interrupted when a chorus of fallen pots and pans hit the floor surrounding the drunken thor, with his tongue sticking out in concentration as he hunted for his prize.

"Brother, must you make such a racket. Can you and your conquest retire for the evening and leave me in peace?"

The voice echoed loudly, almost causing you to jump. You hadn't noticed the pale stranger, hidden in the shadows in a comfy seat in the corner of the room.

"I do have a name, you know." You hissed, raising your eyebrow at the audacity of whoever the fuck this stranger thought he was.

"and I'm sure he doesn't know it nor will be care after tonight"

The figure retaliated, closing over his book and standing up from his chair. his bright green eyes, glimmering in the darkness, clearly enjoying himself.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and looking over to Thor for his take on all this, only to see him, mouth full,surrounded by crumbs and hugging several boxes of pop tarts, ignoring both of you.

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you faced back towards the stranger, to find him inches in front of you.

He was tall, gorgeous with a smirk on his alabaster face and eyes glimmering with mischief.

He looked you up and down, keeping a solid poker face, while he gagued your reaction. He then glanced over to his brother looking like a hamster practically storing pop tarts in his cheeks for the long winter, and chuckled, casting his gaze back to you.

"forgive me my dear. I am used to my brothers.... companions.. being as disruptive as he is. "

nodding over to his brother who has since, sunk to the floor, hugging his pop tarts and snoring like a tugboat with sleep apnoea.

"since my brother has once again disappointed both myself and you, allow me to take over as gracious host for the evening."

he smiled, stepping over his snoring brother and directing you into the small bar adjacent to the room you were both in.

With a shimmer of green, two wine glasses appeared in his hands, as he offered you one. It was filled to the brim with an amber coloured liquid that resembled liquid gold and smelled utterly divine, you graciously took the glass and sunk into the cool leather sofa next to the fireplace.

"Asgardian mead is what my brother usually promises his dates, am I correct?"

You blinked, colour flushing to your cheeks, and beginning to wonder just how many people he had had identical nights with. Maria was going to get her arse thoroughly kicked when you next met her.

"You are correct, Mr?"

you enquired, trying to be polite. You knew exactly who he was. You recognised him from all the news articles back in 2012. The god who came to conquer New York, only to get his ass handed to him in spectacular fashion by the newly formed Avengers.

"Now now, come now my dear, don't play coy. Loki Laufeyson, god of mischief at your service"

he smirked, taking your hand to his lips and kissing it, His green eyes never leaving yours for a second.

Whether it was the mead, or this gorgeous man in front of you, every word and every stare seemed to be sending sparks straight to your already thoroughly soaked core.

Panicking, you swallowed more of the mead, hoping the god before you wouldn't notice how flushed you were while adjusting your legs to take some of the pressure off your aching core.

Vivid images flashed through your mind. You and the god of mischief in the throws of passion. His face buried between your legs, devouring your pussy like a starving man, and those emerald eyes, staring at you the entire time, never loosing eye contact.

You closed your eyes and shook your head, looking ahead to find Loki sitting across from you, smirking.

"I.. uh.. think this mead, may be stronger than I'm used to" you said, coughing slightly and continuing to blink rappidly as you sat your glass down on the table between you and Loki.

Looking back up, another image of Loki appeared sitting on the leather sofa. Legs spread and staring at you intently, his black dess trousers around his ankles and his hard, glistening cock in his hand as he pumped it back and forth.

You felt your mouth water as you looked around confused before finally looking down at yourself to find you where on your knees, completely nude, kneeling on the cold hard floor as he beconned you to crawl to him.

Your heart pounded in your ears, as you felt almost entranced, you needed to go to him, practically drooling at the sight of his hard leaking tip, moistening his massive hand.

Just as your hand was about to make contact with his thick thigh, the image disappeared, replaced with an amused looking down at you from the same position on the sofa, but fully clothed.

"As pretty as you look on your hands and knees, im sure the sofa is a much more comfortable place to sit"

He smirked. You squeezed his thigh, gripping it tightly as you slowly stood yourself up, making sure to give him a good show as you stood up.

Unable to take it anymore, you leaned in until you were nose to nose with him and said,

"Mischief indeed."

You said, barely above a whisper as you leant in and bit his lip before pulling back.

You gazed into his eyes, waiting for a response, as he let out a ferral growl before capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss, grabbing your head and pulling you to stradle his lap.

"A god has the right to toy with his play things little one" he growled, his forehead still on yours as he gripped your hair, pulling you back to his wanting mouth and tongue, as he ground his hardening cock against your long since soaked panties.

You broke your mouth from his as you unbuttoned his shirt, his mouth moving to your suck your neck moving down to your chest as he slipped the straps of your dress down your shoulders, kissing and biting as he went, eliciting a symphony of moans from you. He pulled your dress down to your waist, exposing your chest to his mercy as you made your way to his belt buckle.

"Fuck me, you really are a god" you moaned grinding back against him as you admired his naked chest and throbbing cock.

"As you wish darling"

he whispered into your ear, the vibrations of his low voice causing you to shiver involuntarily.

A green light enveloped you both, as you were both stripped naked.

Loki pinched and sucked at your chest, while his hand travelled down to find your swollen neglected clit. You cried out as his fingers finally made contact, making you buck your hips, taking him deeper as you both groaned in unison.

Loki took hold of your ass, gripping it tightly as he began to thrust upwards, leaving you to the mercy of his glorious purpose as he relentlessly thrust into you. You felt a hot gush dripping down your thighs, as you screamed in delight, his cock hitting just the right spot, as he fucked your orgasm from you relentlessly.

"Fuck Loki I'm gonna..."

"Do it. Cum for me darling, I want to feel you fall appart on your gods cock."

He groaned, his breathing becoming erratic.

You cried out in extacy, arching your back as you felt the thick ropes of cum filling you completely.

As you leant back forwards your forheads clashed, both of you panting, covered in a light sheen of sweat.

"Fuck, Loki, that was incredible"

You finally signed, after a moment of blissful silence between you both.

A green shimmer covered you again, leaving a cosy blanket wrapped around your naked body, Loki's softening cock still buried deep inside you. He wrapped his arms around your back and stood up, making you wrap your legs tight to his waist to hold on.

"I hope your dinner was enough sustenance for you darling. Your going to need your energy for the night I have planned with you"

Loki smirked, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss before teleporting you both to his Chambers for the evening.

Tagging some lovely people who may like this: