"You want ME to teach you magic? You have books that teach you that, why did you suddenly come to me for that?"- he asked suspiciously. 

You explained to him that the problem was in the practice, in the theory, which is what the books taught you, you understood, you just couldn't actually do it. 

Loki was torn between liking that you came to him for help and not knowing if he would be a good teacher, because everything was already so natural to him. 

"Look, darling, the fun of our relationship is that I'm more powerful than you, so if I teach you everything I know and yo-", "Loki..."-you interrupted him with an impatient expression-"I was only kidding, my love", he laughed. 

"Right, right..."- he thought for a moment, he wanted to start with something easy- "you can already manipulate objects, but can you teleport them?"- when you said no a smile formed on his face- "it's very simple, look"

And then he picked up a mug and threw it up, but before it fell, it disappeared and appeared back on the table. Now playfully he threw it, made disappear, and picked up again somewhere else before it fell.

"Are you going to teach me or show off, Loki?"

"You're very impatient today, dear"-he joked. "What I want you to do is mentalize the object and where you want it to appear, okay? Just imagine that it's already there and it will go there, here, try with this apple."  

You held it for a while and imagined it on the table, and then you released your magic. The response was a loud noise of something hitting the table behind Loki, which startled him a little. 

"Was the table your goal?"- he asked watching the apple roll over it. "Yes...."-"All right, you got it, let's just try it more subtly this time , okay?" 

Loki is patient with you. When he was learning he didn't have someone to help him, so he gave you the support he wished he had. 

If you were trying too hard but kept failing he would take a deep breath and tell you to take a break.

He doesn't want to lose his temper for considering something easy and say something stupid to you. 

Sometimes he leaves you practicing alone but keeps watching from afar.

He praises you by clapping his hands when you can do it correctly.

Because he has a lot of experience he gives you several valuable tips.

"I can't do it, Loki! No matter what I do, it's no use!"-you said in irritation at one particular spell. Seeing you holding back tears of frustration squeezed the man's heart. 

He wrapped you in his arms and placed a kiss on your forehead, then looking into your eyes he asked you to explain how you were doing and what the problem was. 

After that he would be able to find out what mistake you were making and help you with it.

Is so proud when you can perfect one of these skills and use it in everyday life.

But he still teases you by saying something like, "Wow! Where did you learn that? You must have had a good teacher”. 

More complicated spells deserve bigger celebrations when done right, so he usually hugs and kisses you at the moment and then presents you with something. (Even if you say it's not necessary).

Anyway, Loki is really committed to teaching you, because seeing that you have learned something thanks to him massages his ego. 

And also he knew that you would be happy if he agreed to help you, so there was no way he could say no to you. 

──────⊱◈◈◈⊰──────

 Sorry for any typos;

 Ask open, accept requests;

...

“Jesus. What does this make? Five bouquets over the past month alone?”

“Not to mention the chocolates.” Grace kept her focus on the mail in front of her as she answered her coworker.

“Can’t forget about the chocolates,” Beth rolled her eyes. “So is he in love with her?”

Grace sighed. “He wants her at his firm. He’s been after her for years.”

“All this for her work? I don’t buy it.” Beth fiddled with the cellophane on the bouquet of orange flowers. They looked expensive.

“All I know is once a campaign comes out for any account she’s on we can expect something at the office. Gifts have been getting bigger though,” Grace frowned, remembering the singing telegram he sent her after the Pan-Am ad. The young lad had refused to leave, insisting on sitting in the reception area until she finished her meetings to sing his message. Quite a disruption indeed.

“Why doesn’t she do it? Why doesn’t she leave?”

“Don’t think that’s our business. Why don’t you take these,” she handed Beth a few letters, “and those,” she pointed to the flowers, “to her office?”

Beth turned, sighing at the older woman as she strode away. Grace was terrible at office gossip. Heels clicking off the tiled floor of the office, she turned at the end of the hallway, passing the glass offices as she went. She threw a wink to the boys in accounts as she passed, giggling at their flushed faces.

Finally at her destination, she found you bent over the drafting table, eagerly discussing something with Ed, an illustrator. She knocked on the door, “delivery for you,” she smiled warmly, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks, Beth. Could you put those on the desk?” You pointed towards the mahogany desk, cluttered with papers and magazines.

Beth nodded, placing the bouquet gingerly on top of the letters. She noted the other bouquets strewn throughout the room, sitting in coffee cups and water glasses. Trying her best to ignore the burning curiosity nipping at her, she nodded at you once more and left the room.

Ed chuckled, “some suitor you got there.”

You shook your head. “I don’t know why he does it. I’m not keen on leaving, especially for a smaller firm. I’ve made that clear. All he’s managed to do is get me a raise.”

He smirked, redrawing a line on the page before him. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. You do good work here, he’d be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks Ed.”

“We need you in the conference room in five.” Your boss was at your door, looking a bit flustered.

“Is this about the Dove draft? We’re gonna need another hour or two at least,” you said, leaning against the drafting table to face him.

“No. This is urgent. It’s for Silva, they want to change directions.”

You frowned. You had put up some of your best work for that account, and the pitch had gone swimmingly. “What? A week before print? Why?”

He swallowed and lit up a cigarette. “New brand director. He wants a whole new campaign on the same timeline. We can’t afford to lose this account.”

You took a breath, your fists clenched. “We’ll meet you there.”

...

You slid into the barstool, sighing as you lit up a cigarette. You slapped a magazine on the counter, flipping through the pages lazily.

“Rough day?” The bartender stood in front of you, smiling warmly.

“Rough couple of weeks.”

“I got just the thing.” He winked, quickly getting to work on a cocktail.

Your eyes fell back to the pages in front of you, still flipping through the articles and ads. A little over halfway through the issue you came upon what you were looking for. You could feel your blood boil as you re-read the slogan that asshole had decided on.

“Cigarettes are like women. The best ones are thin and rich.”

You could hear the older man’s laugh rattling in your head once he’d heard the string of words Jacobs had come up with. You’d had to close your eyes, your fists tight as you held your tongue. “Lighten up honey, it’s a joke!” He’d noticed you in the corner, the only woman in the meeting, his booming laugh vibrating the glass of the conference room.

You’d given him a tight-lipped smile before excusing yourself, attempting to get yourself as far away as that bastard as you could when you felt a tight grip on your arm. You spun to meet the eyes of your boss, and quickly pulled your arm from his grasp.

“I need you to handle this account.” His tone was firm.

“Get someone else to do it,” you seethed. “Hell, do it yourself. I don’t want to fucking touch this.”

“Christ, get a hold of yourself. Everyone else is busy. This was your account from the start. Jacobs already did you a favour with the slogan. So get back in there, show him that pretty smile, and come up with a draft worthy of printing next week.”

“Don’t make me do this,” you shook your head. “Give me another account.”

“We don’t have the time, or the manpower for that. Stop being so dramatic, and get your ass back in there.”

You closed your eyes, pushing the memory from your mind with a shudder. The bartender gingerly set your drink in front of you- a gimlet, and threw you a sympathetic smile before turning to another customer.

You took a hefty sip, silently thanking the bartender for giving you a double.

“Hello darling,” you heard a familiar drawl behind you.

You took a deep breath before slamming the magazine shut and spinning the stool to face him. “Loki.”

He was wearing a purposely tailored loose fitting brown suit, his pressed white shirt a sharp contrast. His tie was brown, dotted with blue, and his leopard print pocket square was meticulously folded into something resembling origami. He held a hand in his pocket, his shoulder-length dark hair slicked back against his head. He was grinning at you, the light blue-green of his irises twinkling as he took you in.

“Listen,” he slid into the stool beside you, motioning to the bartender. “I saw what you did for Dove.” His eyes lit up. “Brilliant.”

You swallowed another gulp of the liquor. “Thank you.”

“And,” he nodded to the bartender as he slipped a scotch on the rocks in front of him, and another Gimlet to you, “I saw the latest for Silva.” He let the words settle.

With that you finished off your beverage, swapping the glass for the fresh one in front of you. “And?” You turned to him, your jaw set.

“Come work for me, and you’ll never be in a position like that again.”

“I don’t know Loki,” you fiddled with the rim of your cocktail glass, avoiding his earnest stare. The way he looked at you made your heart race- he looked as if he were awestruck. As if you’d just cured cancer, or negotiated world peace.

“Come to my office after work tomorrow and we can discuss my offer.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. That would look bad.

“Right.” He thought for a second, taking a sip of the drink before him. “Before work tomorrow? 7?”

“Fine.” You sipped the gimlet, fingers toying with the edge of the magazine in front of you.

“Lovely.” You could feel his gaze on you, you could tell he had that same wondrous expression as he took you in. “Absolutely lovely.”

There was a moment of silence, and you chanced a look at him out of the corner of your eye. He was smiling at you, dimples deeply pronounced as he regarded you warmly.

“I hate to do this but I have to run, I’m meeting a potential client.” He finished his drink and set some bills under the glass before getting up from his stool.

You turned to meet his twinkling stare.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked again, seemingly nervous that you’d changed your mind already.

“Tomorrow.” You nodded, looking around awkwardly under his intense gaze.

“Lovely.”

...

Your fingertips traced your name on the thick card stock, then back up to “OPHIDIA ADVERTISING AGENCY INC.” at the top. You slid the business card back into the box before reading today’s memos.

It didn’t take long for you to admit that you liked it here. It was a smaller firm, quieter than your last.

After Loki had offered you more pay, and the chance to head up your division, you’d accepted. You were apprehensive at first, assuming he’d change his tune towards you, as your last boss had.

But after three months of working on small and large accounts you could tell it wasn’t the case. He wanted you here. He valued your opinions, and your work. He supported you when it came to clients, a first in your line of work. He treated you more so like a partner than anything else. He respected you.

You formed a friendship with him, finally letting him in. And you were happy you did so. You could tell your work was improving, in part to his input. And your presence this was doing wonders for the agency’s clientele. He’d grown from 30 accounts to 40 in just three months. You made a hell of a team.

Right as you started to turn your thoughts back to the day’s schedule, he came bursting through your door.

“You won’t believe this. I don’t believe this!” He was pacing in front of your coffee table. You could tell he was excited by the glint in his eye, and how he kept running his hands through his hair.

“What is it?” You got up, settling in on the couch with your coffee.

“Coca Cola. They’re looking for a new agency.”

You blinked up at him. “What?”

He sat on the couch beside you. “Coca Cola. And they want to meet with us for a pitch.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Darling, do you need a hearing aid?” He smirked at you, taking a sip of your coffee.

You slapped your hand against his arm, “are you serious?”

He nodded, his expression full of excitement.

“Coca Cola,” you shook your head, still finding it hard to believe. “When are they coming?”

“Well that’s the thing,” he grimaced and set the coffee back down, “they’re coming next week, they sent us a brief.”

“What?” You shouted. You needed at least a month to come up with something worthy of Coke. Not seven days.

“Sure about that hearing aid?” He joked, attempting to lighten the mood. “Listen, I know we can do it. All hands on deck.”

You laughed, astonished. “You mean the ten of us? Including Carol at reception?”

“Why not?” He smiled, before looking at you seriously. “If there’s anyone who can do this, it’s you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest.

“Okay. All hands on deck.”

...

The office was a mess. The whole team had spent the last four days straight trying to brainstorm an idea worthy of the iconic cola. They wanted something bold, a slogan they could apply to a variety of demographics.

The chalkboard in your office was full of lines, but none quite hit hard enough.

You’d decided to send your team home for the night, most of them looking as if they were on their last legs this afternoon. Loki had done the same, and the two of you sat in his office, illuminated by the low glow of his desk lamp, the remnants of your takeout dinner littering the space.

You were spinning in his desk chair, and he was lying on his couch, throwing and catching a baseball above him. You’d been here for hours, passing ideas back and forth.

“‘Coke: goes with everything’,” he said, catching the ball once more.

You pulled your lips to the side, “good sentiment, but a bit awkward.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He’d thrown his blazer somewhere, his tie with it. His shirt was wrinkled, top buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You’d never seen him this disheveled. Something about it made you smile.

“How about…” you trailed off as you spun around, thinking how best to rephrase that. “‘Things go better with Coke?’” You raised an eyebrow, you liked the way that sounded. Or maybe you’d run through it too much for today.

Swivelling back towards the couch, you saw Loki sitting up, his eyes wild. “Say it again.”

Your heart beat faster, he’d only look at you like that when you got your best ideas. “‘Things go better with coke.’”

“That’s it!” He got up, pacing the length of the couch.

You got up, feeling the need to pace as well, your mind running a mile a minute.

“We can sort out the formatting tomorrow and illustrate a few options before we meet,” he spoke quickly, stepping over to the bar to pour you both a scotch.

“‘Things go better with coke,’” you sat down on the couch, grinning.

“Say, a burger and fries,” Loki slid beside you, handing you a drink.

“Going to the beach on a hot summer’s day,” you bit your lip, your heart racing.

“A job well done,” Loki clinked his glass against yours and you both took a sip.

You brought out a cigarette, still smiling. “A first date,” you mumbled with the cigarette between your lips. He had leant over to light your cigarette and froze with your words, his gaze simmering with something in the light of the small flame.

He held his position, lowering the lighter as the flame disappeared, cigarette unlit, his eyes searching yours.

“What?” You whispered, holding the cigarette between your fingers. All of a sudden it was hard to breathe.

In a moment he’d closed the gap between you, his lips urgent, yet soft against yours. You held still for a fraction of a second before melting into him, his hand coming up to hold your face, as if he wanted to keep you in place.

He brought his other hand to the small of your back, holding you against him. God- his hands felt so good, so warm, slightly calloused against you. You couldn’t help but whimper lightly at the sensation.

With that he pulled away, and you kept your eyes closed for a moment, savouring it as you took shaky breaths. You blinked to find the swirls of blue-green soft in front of you.

“Darling, I-“ he breathed against your lips, his hand falling from your cheek. “I don’t want to ruin this, what we have. I’d hate myself forever if I did. You’re the most talented and brilliant person I’ve ever met. You’re singlehandedly saving this company, saving me.” He swallowed. “But I’m afraid I’ve fallen a little bit in love with you. I can’t keep ignoring my feelings. I understand if you need to-“

You cut him off with a kiss. You threaded your fingers through his locks, smiling to yourself at how his hair felt as soft as it looked. You pushed yourself against him, losing yourself in him momentarily. Eventually you pulled back from his lips to rest your forehead against his, your hands falling to his shoulders. “I’m a little bit in love with you too.”

He closed the gap this time, his kiss slower as you savoured the way you felt against one another. You trailed your fingertips from his shoulders to the collar of his shirt, quickly finding the buttons when he gripped your hands and pulled away once more, his breath now heavy against your lips.

“This can wait, darling. I don’t want to rush a single moment with you,” he slid his fingers up your forearms, towards your elbows, stroking your skin gently.

“Then let’s take our time,” you agreed, “but I don’t want to stop. Please,” you nipped at his bottom lip, “don’t stop.”

He looked at you, his expression inquisitive- he wanted to make sure that this was what you wanted. You nodded, your chest heaving.

He brushed his thumb along your cheekbone, holding your gaze as he slowly bent to capture your lips once more. He kissed you slowly, taking your lower lip between his teeth lightly, running his tongue gently along your own. As he kissed you he ran his hands down your neck, your shoulders, your arms, he slid his hands along your waist and up your back, memorising every inch of you with his fingers. He found the zipper of your dress and brought it down, breaking from the kiss to look at you as he pulled the dress from your front. He was breathing heavy as his eyes roamed over your skin, to the soft lace of your bra. He looked at you with such a need it made you press your thighs together.

“Lovely,” he slid down onto his knees before you, helping you shimmy out of the rest of your dress. He swallowed hard as he looked at you before him, his hardened length showing through the soft wool of his trousers. “Absolutely lovely,” he brushed his fingers from your knee down to your ankle, coaxing your legs apart. You stared down at him, heart thudding in your chest as his eyes took in the soft lace of your briefs, your garters holding up your beige stockings.

“Darling you are going to be the death of me,” he pressed kisses from the inside of your knee to your thigh, bringing his gaze back up to yours. “But what a wonderful death it’ll be.” With that he brushed his fingers against your slit through the fabric of your briefs and you gasped, your hips pulling backwards to provide him better access. He bent forward, his hands coming to rest on top of your thighs, to press a kiss to your clothed heat. You moaned, your legs trembling in anticipation.

Loki slowly undid the clasps of your garters holding up your stockings. You were nervous- you’d never had a man kiss you down there before. As he curled his fingertips under the band of your briefs you grabbed his hand, holding him still. “Wait- I’ve never had someone,” you swallowed, trying to find the words, “no one’s ever done that, down there. I’m not a virgin, I’ve just never done that.” You finished, heartbeat loud in your ears.

“No one’s gone down on you? No one’s ever tasted you?” His brow was furrowed as he asked this, as if the idea of your previous lovers failing to preform oral sex on you was a personal affront.

You shook your head, doing everything in your power not to hide behind your hands in embarrassment.

“Well I’m honoured to be the first,” his expression melted into a sly grin, moving back to pull your briefs down your legs. “I’ll make it feel good, love. Trust me?” He looked up into your eyes, an eyebrow raised.

You nodded. “I do.”

“Good girl,” he slid his hands back up onto your knees and pushed your legs apart. You squirmed at the feel of cool air hitting your wet heat. “Try and hold still if you can.”

You nodded once more, your mouth dry.

He kissed another trail from the inside of your knee to your thigh, this time on the other leg. He turned his head, eyes locking with yours as he brought himself close to your core, his breath warm against your skin. “Relax, sweet.” You noticed then that you’d been clenching all of your muscles, your hands in fists. You took a deep breath, forcing your muscles to release. Just as your body melted into the back of the couch he licked a slow stripe up your folds, his tongue flat against you. You cried out, your muscles clenching once more from the intense pleasure. Loki hummed, licking his lips. “Divine.”

His hands were over your thighs, thumbs rubbing small circles into your muscles as he dove back in, causing you to cry out once more. “How does it feel, darling?” He asked, his lips inches from you.

You couldn’t form the words- you could only nod eagerly, your mouth hanging open.

He grinned at you. “Shall I continue?”

“Yes! Yes- please.” You nodded once more.

He brought one hand down, gently swiping his fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal. He winked at you before bending to press a kiss against your bud before teasing it with his tongue. You were moaning, one hand on his shoulder, the other gripping the couch. You could feel an orgasm building within you, growing with each swipe of his tongue. He teased his fingers by your hole, dipping just the tips within you to gather more wet. Your hands were already going numb from the pleasure, then he inserted one long finger into your cunt, curling it upwards. “Loki, fuck!” He was hitting a spot within you that made your toes curl, his tongue still unrelenting against your bud.

You’d never felt this much pleasure before, your head was spinning from it all. His expression was heated as he watched you, and you wound your fingers in his hair. He added another finger and you started to shake, everything becoming almost too much. You were frozen in place, simply taking what he was giving to you, his fingers making obscene noises as they worked within you. He held your bud between his lips and sucked gently, his fingers pressing into you. “Loki! Oh my god!” You screamed as you came, your hips stuttering against him.

He continued his movements on you as the waves of pleasure hit you, your body now limp against the couch. He pressed a final kiss to you, pulling out his fingers before his tongue lapped up some of your wet. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and licked his lips, looking up at you.

“Stunning.”

You smiled at him, pulling yourself off the couch to unbutton his shirt. You pressed your palms flat against his chest, spreading them out towards his shoulders as you pushed the fabric from his skin. His dark gaze was glued to you as your hands explored the muscles of his shoulders, chest, arms. You guided him upwards so he stood before you, his erection poking out against the material of his trousers.

Looking up at him you slowly ran your hand up his thigh, grasping his length. His eyes closed briefly, his hips bucking against you. Your hands went to his belt, undoing it and his trousers before you pushed them and his briefs down. His cock sprung free- Jesus, he was well endowed. He stepped out of his clothes, fully naked before you and you swallowed at his form. He looked better naked than clothed, his soft pale skin glowing in the dim light of the desk lamp.

You slid your fingers along his length, admiring the softness of his skin before gripping him in your hand. He hissed, his hips bucking again as you moved your hand along him. You bent to take him in your mouth and he stopped you, his hand against your cheek.

“Don’t worry, I’ve done this before,” you said gently, going to move once more towards him.

“You mean you’ve given but never received?” Again he looked angry for a moment before his expression softened. “I’m sorry, darling. I’m afraid I’m too eager to take you and I don’t think I’d last if you pleasured me with that lovely mouth. Lay down for me,” he motioned for you to lay back against the leather of the couch.

You shifted and laid back, angling yourself in the corner. He stepped to his desk, rummaging around for a moment before coming back to you, rolling a condom over his length. He slid his hands on your thighs, pushing them apart before settling in between your legs. He held himself above you, reaching down to slide himself along your folds. You whimpered, the soft heat of him rubbing against you causing more slick to gather. He bent to kiss you, capturing your lips before running his tongue against yours, tasting of bitter scotch. You moaned when he started to press in, your back arching to press against his.

He continued to slide in, slowly stretching you until he was fully sheathed in your wet heat. Breaking the kiss he looked down at you, his chest heavy against yours. “Are you alright, love?”

“Yes,” you rocked your hips against him. “Please move, I need you to move. I need you.”

He nodded before pulling out and pushing back in with a dragging movement. You nodded at him and he did it again and again, setting a pace within you. He moved to kiss the skin of your neck, his breath warm against your ear. You were surrounded by him, his body warm and firm against you, his scent making your head spin. You held him tight to you, your hands pressing flat against his shoulder blades, loving the way your skin slid against his as he moved in and out of you.

He gripped the side of your hip, angling you upwards slightly and you gasped, the new angle had him hitting that same spot within you that he’d found with his fingers. You felt your slick between your bodies, your muscles clenching his length as he moved in and out.

After a few thrusts he slid his hands under you, pulling you up from the couch to sit on top of him, his cock still seated within you. He rested back against the couch, looking up at you in pure adoration.

“Move, darling.” He held your hips, guiding you to move back and forth against him. You whimpered, quickly finding a rhythm, your skin brushing against the muscles at the base of his cock in a delicious way. “Good girl, take what you need from me. Take it all.”

He brought his hands up your back, swiftly undoing your brazier and pulling it down your arms. He bent to kiss your breast, his tongue flicking against your nipple. You moaned, arching your back into his mouth as you continued your movements. He wet his fingertips with his saliva and squeezed and pinched your other nipple while continuing the movements with his mouth. You felt another orgasm building within you at the sensation, and as you looked down to see his eyes watching you, a glimmer of pride in them.

He leant back against the couch, his dark brows knitting together. “I’m close, love.” Before you could answer he brought his fingers down to where you connected, his thumb brushing against your bud. You cried out, your movements becoming more frantic as your pleasure quickly built.

“That’s it,” he nodded, “that’s it, darling. Feel it. Take what you need and cum with me,” he was breathless, his hips beginning to twitch against yours. “That’s it, fuck.” He pressed against your bud harder and you came, your hips quivering against him. “Fuck.” You kept your eyes on his as he came, his mouth falling open in a silent cry. He looked angelic, his face pure bliss. You could feel him twitching within you, just as your muscles were clenching around him, the two of you riding out your pleasure.

Eventually you melted against him, your head bending to rest against his shoulder. “Jesus.” You took a moment before moving to kiss him then gingerly standing up on wobbly legs.

He looked utterly spent, his eyes open in just slits as he smiled up at you. You picked up the unlit cigarette from before, sitting beside him with a huff and lighting it. You took an inhale before passing it to him. He took a lazy drag.

“I lied to you before.” He exhaled then turned to face you. “It’s more than a little bit.”

You took a second to understand the meaning of his words then broke out into a smile, your heart squeezing in your chest. You curled up into his side and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “Likewise, handsome.”

...

Author's Note: I based some of the interactions between reader and Loki off my man and I... So I guess I owe this fic to him. Not to get all mushy but he's quite excellent and I'm very lucky to have him in my life.

Also- the Silva ad is real!!! Can you believe that shit? So are the Coke ads too. The dates were hard to track- sorry if the Silva one came after Coke’s!

“Lady [Y/N],” Frigga’s soft voice calls out to you, barely a hint of the urgency you see when you turn to look, “you mus come with me now.”

There’s no reason to ask why. It doesn’t matter anymore. Clambering to your feet with Thor’s aid quietly follow the queens rapid footfall. Why does she rush? There’s no more to do...just pick up the pieces and go home.

As if she knows what you’re thinking, Frigga turns to say, “[Y/N]. There’s still work to be done and your help is needed. The dead and wounded must be taken care off a-”

Something stops her completely, eyes wide with shock for a second before grabbing your hand and starting to run down the narrow corridor of the ship. You’re pulled along uncomfortably but don’t bother to complain or ask why – the reason will be revealed eventually.

It is.

Stepping into a large hangar, you finally see where most people are. Healers – walking from one prone warrior to the other to tend to assess what (if anything) can be done – are tending to Asgardians, Nilfheimir, and others alike though all too often the order the attendants are given include a sheet and the movement of a lifeless body that’s placed in a growing row along the wall. The place is filled with the moans of the survivors, hisses of pain through gritted teeth, words of consolation murmured in haste before whomever uttered them has to rush on and then to others.

You know what to do.

But you can’t.

“Your highness, it’s too -”

She tugs at your wrist, pulling you further along. “For now...don’t worry about them. This way.”

Rushing past, you barely have time to see the looks of awe the queen is given from patients and healers, the wordless salutes befitting one of her status. What you do notice are the smiles that shimmer underneath everyone’s pain as they understand that it has been a victory of sorts.

Then you see it. From behind a cluster of people there’s a hem of gold, serving to transition the cape from green to black. The air is punched from your guts. Stumbling forward, you push aside the healers that had been standing and deliberating without doing anything.

...  Loki   ...

Rest...I need just a moment’s respite...I am so so tired. It’s nearly impossible to keep his eyes open even as he glances around to see the people mingling around him and others lying on the floor. Did we lose? No...we cannot have! I heard her.

His lover’s song that had swelled with encouragement and justified wrath had been cut off too soon but Loki know it picked up again after a while. He had only had time to transport a single person and his choice had been clear as both strategy and personal feelings coincided with what was right. And so, as he drifted among the blackened debris, he had heard [Y/N]’s singing once more. Shaky and thin at first before it grew in power. Then he had blacked out.

The song! It’s gone...why is the song gone? Loki feels panic rise in his chest and he struggles fruitlessly to sit up only to be pushed down by a stern, Vanar healer who accepts no excuses (not that the returned prince has any energy for arguments). Instead, he asks anyone who is close enough to hear his feeble voice: what happened to my mortal?

But no one answers.

It’s not until he accepts abandoning himself to the darkness and he feels his seiðr ebb that his wish is granted. There she is...my very own Valkyrie. My love. It hurts to smile up at her, even more as he sees the light glistening in the tears on her cheek and the Jotun would give anything to be able to lift a hand wipe them away.

“Hello, my petal,” he whispers (barely grimacing at the sharp sting).

[Y/N] is on her knees now, clutching his hand and sobbing. “D-d-don’t ta-alk, oki?” Her lips are wet and hot on his forehead. “W’need t-t’wo-ork...get you-u-u well.”

“You...you ‘ave done...so....much al-already,” Loki manages as her palms come to rest on his chest.

He can see it in her eyes – the way they don’t shine like the stars as they normally do – and her smile is strained as if she could hide how serious his injuries are. I should not underestimate you, beloved...but this time it must surely be too grand a task even for you.

...  Reader   ...

Of course you don’t listen to his silly mutterings. “Whatever you want to say, you can tell me afterwards, got it?”

Even if the only goal is to barely ensure Loki’s survival for now and not worry about completely healing him, you’re afraid that you don’t have enough magic left in you until Frigga lays a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it gently. Together with the warmth of her touch comes a flow of strong, verdant energy that you begin to channel through your hands.

I can make it. I have to.

It becomes a sort of chant, an underlying beat to a song that you’ve sung before although rarely for anything this severe. The sight of the blood, the fear of losing a loved one...it triggers the memories from what feels like a lifetime ago when the one you healed was your sweet neighbour Aïsha. You briefly wonder how she is doing before you recall how you had hated the man you now are trying to safe. Things have changed. Now, you’re ready to lay down your life for him.

But no one is here to trade one soul for another. It’s just you and the power your channel in the insane hope for his heart to beat strongly again and the blood to stop spilling onto the cold, metal floor of the spaceship.  

Just a bit more.

Already, your energy is running low and Frigga’s hand leaves you too soon.

Just a bit...more.

There’s almost nothing left to give and you remember the feeling from when you healed the High Priestess – it’s time to stop but Loki will die if you do.

Just...a bit...more!

The world fades away when you hear the first, deep, clean breath fill your lover’s lungs.

...

Someone is holding your hand. It feels nice and cold and it reminds your of safety. The same someone (you assume) is humming gently as they wait for you to open your eyes to the soft glow of candles.

“Loki?” Your throat is parched but catches his attention and soon the drops of cool water. “Thank you.”

Oh, you’ve missed his soft lips on the tip of your nose and your forehead like now.

“No. Thank you, my love,” he soothes, “now go back to sleep and I’ll cuddle up with you.”

“Yes, please.”

...

A month has passed with talks and planning before the dark blue void lets you and Loki out of its hold together with (this time) your books from Earth. It had taken less convincing than you had feared to get your lover and partner to help get them but the timing was harder as he is a busy man...what else can be expected with his new title? Oh, Loki Laufeyson is no prince although his relationship to Asgard and its people is mending slowly.

“Ambassador Loki,” the High Priestess greets him with a smirk, “Saviour,” she adds to you.

The evening air is a balm to your frazzled nerves and the low murmur of the servant Älfir helps a knowledge settle gently in your mind: this will be your life now.

Alfheim has opened its doors to you and Loki, allowing for a neutral ground in your relationship and outward as well. Already, your chambers have been readied and filled with furniture and keepsakes from both of your lives – Loki’s horned helmet stashed cockily on top of a statue of a stern looking elf that doubles as adornment on a pillar on the way out onto a large, evening-facing balcony.

It’s on this balcony that you later find yourself with Loki’s arms wrapped around you from behind, your soft tune playing with the wind as he nuzzles into your hair.

“Do you think you can become happy here, beloved?” he asks softly, almost managing to hide his concern.

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in your answer or in your heart. “But that might have more to do with you, to be fair.”

His smile feel good against your scalp the second before he kisses the crown of your head. “How fortunate...because you will not be rid of me.”

This sigh is drawn out with fatigue. “I wish, I wasn’t,” his mortal professes, “I’m wasted, but after everything today...there’s too much churning around in my brain.”

“Allow me to take your mind off of it?” One of his hands snakes to cradle her hip, pulling her against him. “Let me worship you and your body like the goddess you are.”

Loki can sense the protests die one by one as he teasingly kiss her neck, the slope towards the shoulder, and the shoulder itself before gingerly pushing the strap of the dress aside to bare more skin – smooth and subtle against his lips, not even the few scars of old blemishes can withstand the shiver of goosebumps. As he repeats the movements on [Y/N]’s other side, he begins to tug at the ribbon that holds the back of the bodice in place, allowing it to loosen enough to slip dangerously low.

“Gorgeous,” the Jotun whisper, unable to hide the greed in his voice as he watches the breasts nearly spill free. Nearly.

A tug more would do it, but the woman’s hand flies up to clutch the fabric in place. “Loki! Do you really think this is the time or the place?”

Yes. “I can’t stand even the slightest distance between us any longer, dove,” he hears the edge of a whine to the statement, “I beg of you...let me make you feel better.”

Even through the many layers of gossamer-thin fabric his pressure against her mound is clear enough that she bucks into it, seeking his fingertips as the zone in on her clitoris hidden from his view.

“Please.”

Loki is the one to say it but it’s echoed from [Y/N]’s lips and of course he complies. With a flourish, he cradles her in his arms and carries her to the bed.

True to his word, not once does he break skin contact whether it be by planting slow kissing, letting his hands roam the body he adores, or their foreheads resting against each other. He likes the latter. Her eyes swallow him whole and it becomes easy to forget the madness outside the chamber doors as she lies naked beneath him, her touch scalding hot compared to his Jotun nature even as the telltale blue shimmers just below the surface.

...

“Please!”

She is gasping, writing against his tongue until he anchors her body with his arms to ensure his mortal doesn’t buck away from the precipice he’s steering her slowly towards. A shudder, her body tensing and pushing a silent scream into the void. Delicious.

...

“Fu-oh! Loki!”

Wily fingers have ensnared themselves in his hair tugging as if they could get any closer the way she’s sitting in his lap, his stiff cock weeping against her lower back while she shakes through a new orgasms – this time his fingers are soaked from her arousal and the God of Mischief know that he will savour making her watch how he licks each finger clean again.

...

“I can’t, Loki, I c-oh fuck there!”

Despite her halfhearted objections, the god finds that [Y(N] indeed “can” and does as he rolls his hips slowly, dragging the blue ridges of his cock in his slightly bigger shape against the right spot within the woman. He could go deeper, harder...and oh, how he wants to! But he made a promise and he’ll keep it.

“My goddess, my love,” he kisses her, giving a moment for the woman to calm down, “my soul.”

“Hn?” She’s blissed out, sprawled beneath him.

Hehehe. “Did I wear you out, my beloved?”

“Y-yeahhh.” Wrinkles mar the perfect brows as she scrunches her nose to focus on him. “But did you...? You haven’t...?”

I must restrain myself. “No. This is about you.”

“What if I want you to? Please, use me...I want to feel you cum.”

Loki manages to remain gentle as he turns the mortal over in the bed. Even as he grabs the perfect hips and drag her ass into the air. But the moment the wide cock head slips between the folds and into the waiting heat, he begins to lose control of himself and allows deep thrust to jerk [Y/N]’s body.

I must...must take care! She’s delicate. A mortal in a frail shell compared to the god. Biting his own lip hard enough to taste the blood, Loki tries to ease up but is met with protests the moment his minx realizes.

“I said...use...me,” she gasps, “because I like it.”

Oh, my perfect love. “As you wish.”

And with that he bottoms out, making her whimper, and cuss, and praise him. A couple of strokes is all he can take before snaking an arm around the woman’s torso – hand resting gently around her throat – and pulling her up, back against his chest so he has to rut into her from below.

“Yes,” she whimpers, voice soft as she presses against his palm, “yes...please.”

Judging by the mutterings in the great hall and the amount of dignitaries present, Loki is ready to bet on the latter type and he’s suspicion is confirmed shortly after when Heimdal follows the king onto the dais with the throne before leaving with a deep bow. The moment is brief, but Loki manages to catch the gaze of the Bridge Keeper and the eyes says it all: Thanos is moving.

“Silence.” A thumb of the but of a spear against the floor underlines the command. “It has come to this…the forces of Thanos are mobilizing and although it is not clear to whence, it is imperative that the Mad Titan is stopped before his destruction can reach the Nine Realms. Emissaries have been send to Nidavellir and Vanaheim. Soon, we will hear if and with how great numbers they will join to fight side by side with us. Meanwhile, the Asgardian forces will be mustered and commence training to optimize fighting alongside the Älfir.”

And so the day had finally come where Odin accepted at least part of the truth.

...   Reader   ...

And Loki can’t find the peace he had hoped for. Walking the halls with his head held high, finally allowed (if only tolerated) back to the place where he grew up, his eyes darts from shadowed corners to the faces that openly display distrust.

“Give them time,” you soothe him, stroking the skin that constantly has a frigid, blue shimmer to it, “it took time for me too and I got to see it all.”

He pulls you tighter, arm protectively around your shoulder even now on the balcony of your chambers (his old rooms), and kisses your forehead.

“And it is still a miracle to me that you did, my love,” he confesses.

However, to you the miracle is that you both have come this far; it’s that you stand in the midday’s sun with the person you love; it’s the marvel of Asgard laid out before you under the blazing sun. It’s beautiful. You’ve known that since you arrived, but with the recent events something seems to have underlined the wondrous qualities of the place to the point where it almost can rival that of Alfheim. Almost.

I wonder if I ever get to see that place again?

The High Priestess has made it clear that her realm always will consider you – and in extension Loki – to be a citizen, but as tempting as it seems to run away to the peaceful planet, there is one thing that you need to help take care of even if you don’t know how to.

Thanos.

For days now, while troops rally and space fleet assemble, you’ve been training with Frigga, the Priestess, and Loki in the hopes of gaining some semblance of control of your powers. This is not to say that you can’t do what you want with them...as long as what you want fits your wishes in the spur of the moment: acting against your own wishes smothers any attempt at coming up with a magical tune to exert your will through.

“Darling,” Loki’s voice calls you back from the gloomy thoughts, “whatever will happen...I know you will do amazing.”

Looking up at him, you see the kind smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re just saying that to be nice.”

He laughs as if caught red-handed. “Maybe...but I do mean every word of it.” A new kiss to your forehead, soft and slow. “My worries do not lie with your prowess but with the fact that I don’t know how to keep you safe for certain.”

“Perhaps it’s my turn to keep you safe?” And it really feels like that is the truth. “But take care anyways, okay?”

“For you...always.”

...  Loki  ...

It took almost seven days since the day on the balcony. Seven days with increasing tension from all sides and squabbles along warriors who have been used to specific commanders but now find themselves taking orders from others.

Then the coalition set out and Loki used the Tessaract to open a portal bigger than he ever had before, allowing several ships at once to pass through.

Two days more of waiting, allowing Heimdal to get his bearings and find a point on which to focus. Thanos’ armada is oddly small but no less deadly. [Y/N] had called some of the ships “donuts” – apparently a name for a pastry that’s revered particular in the western hemisphere of Midgard – but the Accuser Warships get no nicknames to lighten their harrowing presence.

One by one, the enemy vessels come into view as all around Loki and [Y/N], who are standing on the bridge of the main Alfïr ship, commands are uttered and followed without hesitation.

“It is time,” the High Priestess hums, her usual ethereal garb covered with polished armour and translucent blades, “we await your final order, Saviour.”

Saviour. It is the title that has been given [Y/N] and one which she only has accepted because there was no other option. As always it makes her cringe for a second before she manages to shake the sense of misguided shyness away and look to the other main ships along the allied forced.

The song is soft-flowing, travelling through the hulls to reach everyone in the coalition fleet before building and reaching a powerful chant that bolsters the hearts of all that listen.

Prepare. Prepare to fight for glory and the safety of our homes. Fight for those we love. Fight for life as we know it. Fight. FIRE!

Unspoken commands are followed from each ship with long-ranged cannons and the gleaming lights streak across the vast darkness of space between the opposing forces.

Don’t hold back. Show them our might. Fight for the life of your loved ones. FIRE!

The first impact have barely lit up the shields of the enemy ships before a new volley is released.

Stand fast. Stay strong. Do not let evil take us over.

There’s a thrumming hum as every ship establishes their shields in a collective, shimmering barrier just in time for the answering volley to miss the allied vessels.

You reach the forest in the late afternoon and park the car. About a mile down the official track between oaks and beech trees, you take a left onto the thin track made over decades by deer and other large mammals that tread silently among the trees and past the creek until you reach the hill. It's steep, and you have to hold on to branches and roots to reach the top where the clearing opens up to a world that seems untouched by man. Almost, at least. The noise of cars from the highway further north can be heard dimly, especially now that rush hour has started, but the view across the great lake is undisturbed and the sun beams down merrily for at least three hours still, so you spread out one blanket on the long grasses and settle down after stripping down to only your undies. Why? The question is “why not”. You've still never met a human being out here and you're pretty darn certain the animals don't care.

...

Even with your eyes closed you can feel that the sun has shifted considerably, meaning you must've fallen asleep. Stretching lazily, you inhale the scent of wildflowers carried on the cooling evening breeze. Glancing from under heavy eyelids at the horizon, it surprises you that the sun isn't exactly where it should be...in fact...it seems to be behind you, but that's wrong because that would mean it's morning. After you rub your eyes (several times, just to be sure), you have to admit that the lake isn't there either and now you come to think of it, you've never before been able to see the mountain range from here. It’s all too strange for you to truly fathom.

That's when you hear the voices – so much for no humans around. They could be tourists hiking because they don't speak a language you understand but foreigners or not, you're not ready to appear naked before innocent people. Reaching for your pile of clothes, your hand closes around...grass.

"Fuck."

It's the most intelligent thing you can think of at the moment. The clothes are gone and so is the backpack with the few things you always bring with you out there. There's just the blanket you're sitting on and the undies you're wearing which will be nowhere near enough to cover you decently.

...   Loki PoV   ...

For once Thor is the one complaining about the little surveillance-trip that the brothers have been sent out on. Maybe it is because it is mainly Loki's idea, but it could also be due to the fact that the indication for the trip is a "sense of change" which only the younger brother, Frigga, and the Bridge Keeper have experienced without pinpointing further yet. No one would dare question neither the queen's nor Heimdal's powers. Loki's though? Odin has a tendency to disapprove of the prince's use of magic and that has rubbed off on Thor who favours strength above cunning. Bumbling several paces behind, the brute is now loudly complaining while pushing at any old tree he can find just to hear the wood groan at his might.

"This is folly, brother," the blond complains, "leaving Sif and the horses behind just to walk all this way! And why?!"

Loki knows why and has in fact tried to explain it several times already which is the reason Sif refused to go along. Instead of attempting again, he quietly aims for the crest of the slope while the complaints continue behind him. The intangible sensation of something that does not belong draws him into the clearing where the tall grasses and wildflowers bow to the soft evening winds and the rushed flutter of a blanket pulled around a female figure. Stopping in his tracks, Loki takes in the stranger who looks so utterly lost. Big eyes, naked shoulders and arms that cling to the knitted shroud. A stray blade of grass in the hair.

"Hello," the pale prince offers, "do not be frightened, I shan't hurt you. What is your name?"

The pretty head cocks to the side, sparkling eyes squint at him almost as though she cannot believe he is there. At that moment Thor comes trampling out of the treeline, now swinging his axe at the highly hostile blossoms while making idiotic sounds as though he was a child battling an imaginary army.

"Thor...THOR!" The bumbling idiot finally stops to look at his brother. "Lower your axe, you are scaring our...guest."

"Thor?" The voice is meek but clear like water, captivating the attention of both brothers. "Thor...Loki?"

They nod, but if they had expected any further clarifications, they would have been sorely disappointed because the woman begins to laugh. Shy at first then louder and louder until her entire body is shaking. A string of intelligible words pour from her plumps lips, ending with an upwards lilt.

"Do you know the language?" Thor asks.

There is no language within the nearest realms that Loki does not speak, still this one is unintelligible though familiar to him. "Not yet. Stay here." He walks forward, hands spread to the sides to prove he is unarmed in the hopes that the woman will not be scared. "My name is indeed Loki," he speaks softly, "I do not understand your language, so I beg of you to allow me to cast a spell on you."

One step more, then another and...noticing the twitch in her body, the raven-haired god stops, holding out a hand to her instead. The entire world holds its breath as the stranger makes up her mind, looking about as if waiting for an answer that will not come before she moves slowly. The folds of the blanket part, allowing a glimpse of a bare leg as she carefully steps closer. There is a moment of hesitation before she changes the hold on the cover and takes his hand.

Thin silver particles pass between their fingers and enter her bloodstream. She does not panic (which would have been a reasonably logical thing to do) but watches with interest.

"What on earth...?" The incredulity is like sweet honey on the words.

Loki smiles, already two clues richer. "My apologies, my lady." He bows to kiss the soft hand. "I have cast a spell on you to improve the chances of a dialogue."

She does not pull the hand back unkindly, although the look she shoots Loki is hard. "How gullible do you think I am?"

"I beg you pardon?" The urge to reach out for the woman as she steps away is strong and even Thor must realize that things are not going as expected. "I assure you we have no reason to think less of you...nor are we trying to deceive you in any manner."

A scoff, bordering on a snort, clearly proves what she thinks. "Right, so two mythological characters are parading around in the middle of nowhere in a forest on Earth? Yeah right! There's no -"

"Asgard." Thor interjects helpfully.

The wind plays in the leaves, a bird sings goodnight to the last rays of the sun that will reach the hilltop, and the nameless woman stares tiredly from one brother to the other. When she finally does resume to action, it is merely to readjust the knitted blanket and turn away. Treading carefully about, she begins to search for something.

Thor leans over to whisper conspiratorially to Loki after a while. "She truly does not believe us."

"It appears not," Loki admits, "perhaps she would feel safe to come with us if we were in the company of another lady..."

"Sif?" Thor scratches his chin, while considering the options. He is not much for going back to the horses only to go up hill again and then eventually down once more when the girl ultimately, as he voices the concern, refuses to come along. But what other options are there? "As you wish."

…   Reader PoV   ...

Out of all the weirdoes in the world, at least the two Viking-wannabes seem friendly enough for now….except maybe, the broad dude with the axe. You sigh, unsure what to think of anyone who'd run around with what looks like a very sharp murder weapon. Anyways, you've more pressing matters to attend to because you need your stuff: clothes, shoes, keys, all of it...but you can't find it anywhere in the tall grass. It probably got lost with my mind, you bicker at yourself, considering that you almost believe the men.

Everything is wrong. You've come to the little slice of heaven for years and the place you're at now? It's just not "it". There are several similarities, sure, there just happen to be a lot more differences that you can't explain in any reasonable manner.

"Asgard," you huff, widening the perimeter of the search, "as if."

Painfully aware that the men are whispering behind your back, there's nothing comforting about the so-called Thor leaving a bit later. Correction, it's perfectly fine that he leaves, but less so that the slender guy stays…especially the way his watching you like he's trying to learn everything there is to know including your weaknesses and fears and… You stop yourself before you think further just in case the whole spell-casting-thing isn't some weird made-up thing. Oh, man. Of course it's made up! There's no such thing as magic and the shimmer when he took your hand was just a trick of the light. Rubbing your hand, it's comforting that it doesn't feel any different.

Your brain keeps searching for all the logical explanations for the things you can't actually explain, and it gets you so wrapped up in theories that you don't notice that the spirally path leads you right up to "Loki" again. Much too close to him, you back away only to step on the hem of the blanket.

It's exactly like in the movies: as if from outside your own body, you witness the slow motion rendition of how you stumble and almost fall. Almost, because Loki somehow swoops you into his arm while also managing to pull the little cover you have around your torso again. And there you are, supported in a stranger's arms gasping in surprise at the nearness of his body and gorgeous face. Turquoise eyes twinkle down at you with mischief and tenderness that you don't even want to recognize while at the same time drawing you in like a moth to the flame. Trying to shift your focus away from the sharp cheekbones and elegant brows, you find a new distraction in his shoulders where your arm is draped around. Oh, he might be slender, but there's absolutely shape under those weird clothes.

"Are you alright, lady…?" His deep voice hangs in the air like the scent of jasmine.

"[Y/N]," you offer lamely, "my name's [Y/N]...and I'm…I'm okay."

If it had been a movie then there'd be a 50-50 chance of a kiss at this point. Thankfully, it turns out the odds are in your favour (or so you remind yourself) and there's no romantic exchange, instead the man helps you get your footing and then he lets go of you.

"Fret not, I will see you safely returned to your home world." Loki probably meant the smile to be reassuring, it ends up as slightly sad instead. "In the meantime, however, may I offer you shelter for the night? And...proper clothes upon arrival at the castle?"

That's how you end up following Loki into the forest, meeting Thor and a fierce looking woman not far from the hilltop, and on until you reach three horses waiting for their owners. Thor and the woman, Sif, are in the saddles and on the move before you can blink, leaving Loki's horse as the only ride. It's a fair way up for a blanket-dressed person.

"I'm a good walker," you start to explain, wanting to remain safely on the ground as much as you hate being a burden.

But the handsome god (because you can't help but think of him as such) is already at your side. "Allow me to assist, lady [Y/N]."

And how can you refuse him when he smiles so kindly and look so worried? A nod, then he's wrapped those big hands around your waist and lifting you so effortlessly you can hardly believe it.

...   Loki  PoV   ...

[Y/N] fits so snugly against his chest it seems like she belongs there. The first part of the ride, she has been trying to maintain some distance between them, but the rocking motions of the gallop makes it impossible and eventually she gives up. Instead, she busies herself with watching the landscape. Loki can feel how her body tenses and he imagines a frown on her face.

"This...this really isn't Earth, is it?"

Midgard. "No, my lady," Loki acknowledges quietly. She must be frightened by the situation.

Rather than weep or panic, though, [Y/N] speaks calmly. "How did I get here?"

"I am not certain yet…we sensed a shift in the essence of the verses as though something or rather someone passed through the veils."

"Me..."

She lapses back into a pensive silence as the horse carries them across the plains under the darkening sky. The first stars are visible now that the fire of the setting sun has diminished, and the woman looks to the heavens with a sigh. How does she see our world? Already, the prince has been to scores of realms either in times of war or as a diplomatic emissary, and each time he has revelled in studying the foreign cultures as though searching for something he cannot quite identify. He is almost able to place himself in her position as they crest the hill, bringing the palace and surrounding city into view.

“Oh.” The gasp reaches him softly.

Valhalla and the roofs of the many surrounding buildings glitter with gold illuminated by braziers and magic. Beyond the city, the Bifrost appears like a straight, luminescent line of brilliant colours heading for the vastness of space beyond the lone observatory. Under normal circumstances, visitors to the realm of Asgard would arrive there on the edge of the world and follow the rainbow road to the palace. Not this time. How did a Midgardian come here unaided?

…

Already before passing through the city gates, Loki has swept his cloak around the maiden to protect her from the night’s cold and now the curious gazes of Asgardians. Under the shielding fabric, there is a slight shift in [Y/N] posture as she presses closer to the only ally she has at that moment. Her heart is beating wildly, her muscles like springs as though preparing to flee…but to where?

“Do no fret, my lady,” Loki whispers, “no harm shall befall you.”

“Some might argue that it already has…otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

…   Reader PoV   …

You actually want to stay pissed off at the pompous, medieval, alien of a bastard but everything you see distracts you from it. Asgard, because what else could this place be, is nothing short of magical. You could almost believe it to be actual magic with trees that glow (that turns out to be fireflies, though), and space at the end of a road build of rainbows…your logic won’t buy it though. There’s no such thing as magic, just science we don’t understand yet. The argument sounds like a joke as the horses step towards the mighty gates of the castle. Of Valhalla.

The deep bows performed by anyone you pass aren’t meant for you but the princes and maybe the dark-haired woman. Sif. Not the Sif from the myths, though, that’s for sure. Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding? This woman looks like a warrior, tall and strong upon the horse, with shield and sword at her sides. There’s no smile on her lips and she’s not once bothered to look at you as opposed to the Asgardians you’ve passed on the way through the city.

Turning slightly to face Loki, you whisper: “Who erm…the stern lady, who’s that again?”

An amused twitch of his lips light his eyes with a sparkle of green. “She is Lady Sif, a dear friend of my brother and me and among the bravest of warriors in Asgard…she is also the grumpiest after having been proven wrong –“

“Wrong?!” A clear voice cuts through from up ahead. “There was not, as I pointed out, any tracks or camps indicating the arrival of foreign forces.”

Both men chuckle good-naturedly, and you can’t help adore the rumble passing to you from Loki’s chest. It feels familiar to listen to the three of them teasing each other, feigning horror of being “abandoned alone”, and reminiscing on past rescues where Sif seems to have been more than capable to save the men’s asses. Royalty or not, the friendship is stronger than the ranks, helping you forget that part until it’s time to dismount.

“Brother, lady Sif,” Loki calls out while detangling himself from the cloak and allowing you to keep it, “go ahead and explain mother and the All-Father that we have a guest in need of a caring hand.”

Of course they find the suggestion reasonable, leaving you alone with the dark-haired man. Turquoise eyes beam up at you. How did he get down there so elegantly? Wordlessly, you slide into the waiting arms that bring you safely to the ground only for his hands linger on your waist as you stand impossibly close to him. Holy smoke, he’s handsome! Perfectly sharp lines softened by an almost eerie grace that you would’ve attributed the elves of the fantasy stories you once read. Thin but soft lips made more beautiful by a gentle smile. Hair so black you almost suspect it’s not real hair but magic – magic which you of course don’t believe in. Now he is looking down at you, the eyes have deepened in the shadows until they are endless pools of dark green and midnight blue with silver streaks.

“Allow me,” the perfect man murmurs before adjusting the cloak around you, closing the golden clasp by your sternum.

…

The grand hall with the king on the throne placed at the veeeeeeeeeeeeeeeery far end makes you feel tiny. Not tiny the way a child in a grown up world does, or the way that stargazing will make you feel insignificant in the grand scheme of things. No, this is tiny in the way an insect must feel as the human tries to determine if it’s a mosquito or not. Thankfully, Odin is convinced by more than just Loki that you’re no pest but a frail butterfly that should be nursed and eventually relocated to the natural habitat; and queen Frigga takes charge of your wellbeing, bringing you to a room bigger than your apartment where she provides clothes and food for you before leaving you to do as you please.

Even though the guest room supposedly is “sparsely” decorated it still falls in line with the style of the castle. Woven tapestry covering parts of the bare walls with images of landscapes and plants so vivid it might actually have been portals to those places; soft carpets forming islands on the stone floor upon which heavy furniture of ornately carved wood and golden metals rest; windows offering a view to the palace gardens – a view that is echoed in the enormous mirror above the fireplace. The canopy bed isn’t far from another door which turns out to lead to the bathroom of your dreams. The choice is made. Bath first.

…

The old, knitted blanket is neatly folded on the bed, looking out of place against the silks and furs but bringing a tad of homey comfort to the weird situation you’re stuck in. The emerald cloak is resting next to it, waiting for a chance to be returned to the rightful owner. Instead of wearing any of those two items, you’ve dressed yourself in the softest tunic and leather pants, a wide strip of emerald cloth wrapping around the waist of the brown and white ensemble. It might not be what the queen would have chosen, but it’s the least foreign you could find in a closet full of dresses and cloaks and it allows you to sit comfortably curled up in the broad windowsill to enjoy the delicate cold meal with the best view.

A knock on the door and a voice calling for you softly. You immediately know who it is and call out for him to enter.

…   Loki PoV   …

She does as I do. All his youth, the prince has favoured sitting by the glass if he could not go outside. To see [Y/N] do the same warms his heart.

“I hope you find everything to your liking?”

His question makes her smile broadly for the first time, melting the frown away that had seemed near permanent since he first laid eyes on her upon the hilltop. The bright eyes never abandoned the curious intellect that captivates him, but to see the glimmer of joy there…perhaps this unwanted adventure will not break her spirit.

“It’s great. Thank you.”

Sliding from the seat, she walks to the bed to pick up something, yet Loki only has eyes for the green sash accentuating the waist and the faint shade of her skin beneath the white tunic. The fabric is wet on the shoulders and the seam of the neck from where the water has soaked in from her hair.

“Here,” suddenly she stands before him, teeth worrying softly at the plump lower lip, “it’s…erm…thanks for letting me borrow…it…”

How can it be so awkward being near the only one that feels right? “My honour, m’lady.”

Fingers brush against each other as he takes the bundle from her, begging him to linger, to say anything merely to hear her voice once more. Electric warmth tingles where she has touched him now and before.

“Why…” she begins, but then must think better of it.

“You may ask anything of me.”

“You call me my lady…but I’m not royalty.”

Neither are you mine, yet my heart sings to you. “Noble blood is not all there is to being a lady.” The answer elicits the sweetest shyness that heats her cheeks. “And furthermore…I may have a say in who is deemed worthy of titles, so if I wished for you to be a lady…I could sway the powers that be.”

“Oh?” A single eyebrow raises in challenge. “You can do anything? What else can you make me?”

“Happy?”

The magic Loki possesses is not strong enough to undo time, if it was then he would wind back a few seconds now to unsay that single word. The prettiest eyes he has ever been lost in open wide, the lips barely part to free a soft gasp of surprise at his boldness. Fool! The derogatory is far from the only one he mentally yells at himself, already stepping backwards out the door as he tries to formulate an apology.

“Wait…” Frozen in place he cannot bear to look at her. “You already saved me, prince Loki, but I do have a…a…plea…”

There is an unexpected gentleness to her voice, compelling the man to look up with hope. “Anything.”

“Please…show me your favourite place to be on your own?”

…   Reader PoV   …

You’re wearing his cape again, but this time he has brought one for himself too. The horse you share with him is the same as well just like the nerves that surge through your body from the constant pressure of his chest against your back.

None of you speak as the animal carries you through the city under the curious scrutiny of the citizens. What are they thinking? Hopefully nothing mean. It’s not like you’re likely to get to see (or at least recognize) them again before you’ll be…what? Frigga had promised that you’d be brought home, but that the king must see to the safety of his so-called realm first – in this case by gleaning some information from you or the place you had arrived at. There was no doubt the kind treatment mainly is due to the friendliness of the queen and her sons. Her son. Yes, despite the generous hospitality you have convinced Loki to take you away from the safety of the gorgeous room at your disposal on some impulsive whim that has you begging for the familiarity of your hill…but that hill is worlds away and you could only think of one person understanding what you might need.

While you’ve been pondering, the city has drifted away behind you, allowing the horse to gallop full speed in the broken darkness where everything appears in tones of grey. Maybe it knows the way. Maybe Loki is that good of a rider. Regardless, you feel safe under the alien stars as the creature thunders along an unseen road and onto a beach. There’s a steady rumble of waves sloshing against the shore, splashing high enough to wet your bare feet. Far beyond the waters, though not as far as you would expect, is the endlessness of space dazzling you.

Warm breath fans your chin for a second before it’s swept away. “Merely a moment longer, my lady.”

He is true to his word, of course. When you dismount, you follow a path off the beach to the top of a scraggy cliffside and continue no more than a couple of meters around a boulder until the two of you reach a natural shelf with the night sky reaching above and beyond. Constellations of stars (similar and different from those seen from home) make room for swirling galaxies the closer to the horizon you look.

“This is…” you try to explain the calming effect the place has on you only to find words aren’t enough.

It fuels a longing for somewhere you don’t know yet while giving you a sense of belonging because really…what else is there? Places, planets, will come and go through the endless eons while you’re nothing but a tiny blip that has been granted the chance to witness the vastness of it all, to be a part of it, and form the lives of those around you whichever way you see fit. It’s comforting that nothing you can do will be so bad they can mess up the grand scheme of things, while daunting to know that the time you have is full of endless possibilities.

“I know.”

Behind you, Loki has spread out a roll of fur on the ground for you both to sit on, leaning calmly against the cliff with his long legs stretched before him. Absurdly aware of your body, you join him while carefully keeping just a few inches of distance.

None of you try to fill the time with speaking, that’s not the reason for this place to exist. Cosmic clouds show off the brilliance of the newborn stars they hold while suns belonging to other planets blink as if sending signals in Morse code. A particular bright one has a green glow to it that reminds you of the eyes of the man beside you, and the thought alone sends a fluttery cascade of excitement through your chest.

This is ridiculous! A night bird tests the quiet air from somewhere further in land. I can’t be falling for him…it’s just…just the foreign feel of it all. The haphazard notes take shape of a gentle melody which quiets your frantic mind. How silly of you to think that there are any other feelings at play here than those logically ignited by being stranded. On a planet from old Norse mythology. Surrounded by people that have been known and sort of forgotten by humans for a thousand years. All very logical, yes. Sighing, you allow your head to fall back against the stone and the more normal-looking stars twinkle above.

“I am sorry, lady [Y/N].”

Glancing over, you can see how he’s looking at you with concern. “You don’t need to call me lady…just [Y/N] is fine.”

The nod and smile are subtle but still manage to send waves of warmth from your toes to the top of your head. “Very well…” the prince concedes, “allow me to forego formalities completely.”

“O-okaaay…”

“It is nigh impossible for any of us to understand how you must feel.” He covers your hand that’s resting on your thigh, sending electricity tickling through your veins. “And I fear I may be out of place when I confess…it warms my heart to have brought you some comfort by sharing this place with you.”

Loki has turned towards you, leaning close enough for you to wish for more as the mesmerizing eyes draw you in. If only you were to stretch a little extra. Or maybe let your fingertips brush the stray locks of black hair from his face. All the wonders of the universe seem to fade away as your hand moves on its own and the gentle man’s face comes closer yet to yours almost like he –

“My son.” The voice belongs to the queen. “Lady [Y/N].”

Seconds later, Frigga slips past the boulder and into view of Loki, who already has jumped to his feet, and you. Your face is burning, but at least the starlight won’t reveal neither that nor the harsh scolding you give yourself silently.

…   Loki PoV   …

Naturally, mother insists on being chatty company on the way home. She even takes it upon herself to see first [Y/N] to the room too before looping her arm into his and leading the way to his chambers. The prince knows Frigga is preparing to say something and that the sudden silence is a sign of her choosing her words carefully…after all, she is the true diplomat in the relationship with Odin.

“What is it, mother?” Loki sighs, knowing that the last paces to his door will not save him. “Do you not appreciate our guest?”

“Oh, my dear, you know I do,” she pokes him teasingly, but her face regains the severe calmness just as quickly as the joy had flared, “yet as you say…she is merely our guest. Lady [Y/N] comes from another world to which she must return.”

Although the words are true, Loki finds he is loath to hear them. People throughout the verses move from one place to another every day in the hope of finding shelter, work, or even love. As the second son, should it be impossible for him to do the same if he was wanted elsewhere? If I ask her…would she…? But Odin would refuse any possibility, leaving only one option.

“Of course,” tracing the line in his palm as though nothing of import was being discussed, he shrugs, “that is to be expected. She belongs on Midgard.”

“Loki, my son, please listen to me.” Stopping them both, Frigga grabs his hands in both of hers. “The Midgardians live short lives. Burning bright until their light is snuffed out all too soon whereas we live for thousand of years with the ghosts of their memories and a hollow ache left in their place. Please, protect yourself…let her go.”

Stunned at Frigga’s words, there is no answer readily available to the normally sharp-tongued god. Is this experience talking? But his mother has already kissed his cheek and left his side without giving Loki an opportunity to ask the many questions burning in his heart.

…

He brings [Y/N] to the garden the next day to enjoy the sun beaming down upon the fragrant lilies and roses of any colour. Again, she has chosen the simple clothes of trousers and tunic (this time one of light yellow silk) fitted with a sash, catching surprised glances from passing servants and members of the court which [Y/N] deftly ignores. Walking barefoot over the grass, she begs to know about life on Asgard and Loki is more than happy to tell. Nearly forgotten tales of mischief from his childhood are recovered and exchanged in return for a bubbling laughter echoed by the cheerful melodies of thrush and lark. As evening draws near, casting the garden in cool shadows, they are still deeply engrossed in conversation when Frigga finds them.

“Lady [Y/N],” the queen smiles sweetly, “I do apologize for interrupting such pleasant times…however, I do insist that you are made ready for tonight’s feast.”

“Feast?” A glimmer of anxiety widens the guest’s [Y/E/C] eyes. “Made re- erm…how so, your majesty?”

Loki stands to bid them goodbye, knowing that this is a moment for his mother to explain what has been arranged for the night, and although the prince would love to be a fly on the wall during that conversation, he himself has been lax in regard to the day’s tasks.

….

Unable to detain himself any longer, the youngest prince has already made his way to the dining hall in hope of distractions in the company of his brother, lady Sif, and the Warriors Three. Together, they form a merry group of friends where honesty is valued regardless of rank, normally leading to witty banter.

“Loki…Loki!” Fandral pokes the prince in question on the shoulder. “Where is your mind, my friend?”

He is not ready to admit it, but the raven-haired man had been lost in the memory of the glow of the Midgardian’s skin as she basked in the sun earlier that day. All through the chores, Loki had found himself unfocused, earning him more than one tumble during sparring as Thor now reveals.

Sif considers the subject of the laughter with a smirk on the lips. “One might think it’s the presence of the lady [Y/N], or am I wrong?”

“I always take an interest in our guests and their well being.” A simple answer meant to hide the flutter in his heart at the mere mention of the foreign woman.

“Does that mean, little brother…” Thor’s heavy arms lands around the shoulder of the sibling, “…that you do not find anything particularly compelling about…that.” With those words, he spins Loki around to face the doors at the far end.

There is no need to search for what (or rather: who) the crown prince refers to, and Loki allows the world around him to fall away with the exception of her. Her. The sweet memory of [Y/N]’s voice as she laughed in the garden grows in power, becoming a summon controlling Loki’s heart and soul. How…when did it come to this? Frigga’s warning is not forgotten, yet…how can she know? The risk of abandoning a love like the one he is feeling, to never live as true and blessed as his existence could be at her side must be far crueler than spending the summer in her sun before facing the winter of his life alone.

Love? No…I should not give in. But then [Y/N] smiles at him and he is lost.

…   Reader PoV   …

Frigga had promised to help you get ready…you had just never in your wildest dream imagined how much that would entail. At least the queen is lovely and intelligent company. Very intelligent. Maybe Asgardians can read minds (or at least they’re intuitive) because it wasn’t not long before she had you spilling the secret you’ve barely dared admit to yourself, the two of you chatting like you had been friends all your lives. It had felt good. Splendid, actually, because home on earth there’s no one for you like that.

And now? At this moment, none of the confidence-inducing cheerfulness is left within you as you set foot in the dining hall, once again reminded of the fact that you’re an alien stranded in a fairy tale full of magic and heroes. Every one of the Asgardians in the room is oozing with majestic grace. They belong. You’re a cheap copy although Frigga has dressed you in the most beautiful dress of gold and blue before fitting you with jewels to match. At the time you had felt like a princess, now you want to hide. Scanning the crowd, you try to find the queen, hoping that she will be occupied by someone, allowing you to slip away – you see Loki instead.

…

Your prince, as you’ve teasingly taken to call Loki in return, has been at your side all night and time has passed in the blink of an eye. Eyes of turquoise green that see into your soul even now as you walk slowly through the moonlit garden to cool down.

I’ll miss him. The thought is unwelcome, tarnishing the joy you’ve experienced at the feast where the princes and Sif have introduced you to their friends, all of them including you in the raucous company as though you were one of them. I wish I was. It’s an impossible dream, made all the more dismal by the sense of belonging you feel around Loki.

“Lady [Y/N],” his voice wavers slightly as he strokes a wetness from your cheek, “do not be saddened…I promise your safe return home.”

But that’s not what I want. “Sorry…d- I…sorry.” Tearing away, you stumble half-blinded by the sudden tears down the first path available but soon find yourself at a dead end among the roses.

How could I be so stupid?! Wiping angrily at your face to stop the blubbering, you try to recall all the good reasons for going back to Earth…there just aren’t any that you wouldn’t be able to replace. No family or friends to speak of anymore. And sure, the work and colleagues are alright but it’s nothing that brings you a sense of home.

“[Y/N]?” It doesn’t scare you that Loki is much closer than anticipated. “It pains my heart to see such sorrow,” he mumbles while folding you in his arms, “I will do anything in my power to…to…”

Words falter and instinct takes over. Holding your close, he tugs your head against his shoulder. Strong fingers stroke your back and head gently while you calm down, and you slowly become aware of the kisses your prince plants of your hair and temple.

“Thank you, Loki.” A soft whisper is all you can muster.

“Always, my love.”

Both of you freeze for a second, unsure if he really has spoken those words, but when you lift your head to meet his gaze there’s no doubt. Nothing needs to be said or explained, the silence allowing a calming warmth to grow inside your chest. You can feel your heart swell. Heal. When his lips meet yours (hesitantly at first) it makes your soul sing.

“Please.” Breaking away briefly, Loki gasps. “Stay with me…or let me come with you! We well find a way.”