#lokixreader insert

Some nights, your belly swollen with her, you’d wondered if she’d turn out as dark and torn apart as Loki had been. Yet you remembered, it was that same darkness that had loved you unconditionally. 

You stood up to get your daughter’s attention. “Nari!” 

She turned, bracing on you those familiar green eyes. “Come on up for dinner!” you yelled. 

On all her ten years of age, she scrambled back up the valley, hands clawing at the dirt and wheat. When she managed to join you, she was sweating and heaving, her little chin shining with a gleam of sweat. 

She looked so damn much like her father. Those long and sharp features, round eyes, thick eyebrows, and a slim figure. She would grow up to be a wonderful and ravaging young woman. Who knew, maybe she’d be gifted like her father was in sorcery. 

You’d managed to make a life here on Midgard, among the mortals. Nari went to school and had friends, yet she completely ignored her true heritage; that of a Goddess. 

“Where’s my father?” she’d once asked you one night. She had been to school long enough to understand children had a mommy and a daddy, yet she was missing the latter. She was missing a part of herself. 

“He isn’t around, baby,” you’d whispered. Her eyes, those damn eyes, had filled with water. “Oh, Nari, no don’t cry.”

Her little hands had balled into fists against your shirt. “He’s dead?” she asked. 

You were sure of it. If they had found out about you and Loki, Thor would have sentenced him to death under high treason. But you hoped, every night, with every fiber in your body, that the only man you loved had not been killed because of you. 

“No he isn’t,” you’d answered your daughter. “He’s just not here.”

And now, as you watched her eat her dinner, little legs dangling off the edge of the chair, you wished he could see her. You wished he could see the little dimple she had on her left cheek that creased even deeper when she gave a full-teeth smile. You wished he could see how curly and dark her hair was; a perfect mix between you and him. You wished he could see how brilliant and funny his daughter was. 

You put her to bed that night, watching as her lashes cast shadows on her soft cheeks. Outside, the world had turned black, tormented by a storm. Your Goddess senses spiked at the strange nature of the storm outside. In your head, a buzzing that awoke long forgotten memories.

Your heart lurched in your chest, fingers tingling, your tongue dry with anticipation as you got to your feet. The windows of your house were screeching against the wind, the entirety of your home groaning with every gust. 

When you opened the door, you were not surprised to see the storm die out almost instantly. A warm wind caressed your skin, tangling in your hair. 

Among the clouds, a shadow, a silhouette you would recognize anywhere. 

“Y/N.” The sound of your name made shivers slice up your spine. Fresh tears welled in your eyes, your heart swelling. 

“H-how?” the words left your lips in a whisper, your eyes searching the tormented sky frantically. 

He came through the clouds. He looked so much older than what you remember. He had been so young and fleeting and careless when you had been in his arms, so naive and innocent. And now, his hair was longer, curling at the ends. His eyes sagged at the edges, the color darker. His mouth was pulled in a permanent scowl. The was an air to him that made your heart pinch; pain and longing. 

He reached for you, and instinctively you pulled back. He was supposed to be dead. He should have been dead. 

“I came back for you, Y/N,” he whispered. His voice was raw, broken, filled to the brink with agony. “I made it... for you.” His eyes were red, edges rimmed with tears. 

Your own cheeks were wet. “How?” It seemed you could only say one word. 

This time, when his fingers inched for you, you didn’t move. His skin was cold, just like you remembered. The feeling of him sent electricity zapping through your veins. 

“I waited ten years,” he croaked, “to escape. They locked me up for ten years, but I made it out. The only thing that kept me going was you.” 

The thought of him locked up, behind bars, for ten years made the pain in your chest swell. He went through hell all for you. 

Then, rationality came back to you. 

If he had escaped, they were surely looking for him. And he had come here, to find you. Yet he would surely bring a hoard of Asgardian judiciary guards behind him, after him, to capture and probably kill him for treason and escape from royal confines. He would bring all of this here, to you and Nari. He would put you and your daughter under the scope of Odin and Thor.

That couldn’t be. 

“You need to leave,” you said. The look in his eyes tore you apart just like the day you left through the crack in the world Loki had shown you. 

“What?”

“You can’t be here,” you continued. “They will come for you and find me and-”

“But we can leave,” he interrupted harshly, grabbing your shoulders. “Together!” The feel of his hands on you made you sway. Oh, how you’d missed him. The storm behind him started to brew again. He was angry. 

“No,” you said, shaking your head, Nari on your mind. You couldn’t uproot her like that. It would shock her. 

“Yes!” he insisted, stepping closer to you. “You take your things and we leave. We never have to hear about them again.”

His eyes, those green eyes that you stared into every day, were filled with truth and pleading. You saw the longing, the nostalgia behind the green curtain. “I still love you,” he whispered, lower lip trembling. “I never stopped.” 

With a sigh, you nodded. “Before we go, there is something you need to see.”

The house was silent. Over the little girl, a man, with the same long and sharp features, the same green eyes alight with fire, the same dark mane. Behind them, a woman, her heart empty and complete all at once. 

“She’s mine?” he asked, his voice delicate, his eyes adorning a softness you’d never seen in him before, not even when he made love to you. You didn’t even need to answer the question; he saw the striking resemblance. 

“She’s ten years old,” you said, picking up a bag and filling it with your daughter’s clothes. “I named her Nari.” 

You watched as Loki reached a shaking hand to pet his daughter’s hair. A lone tear had streaked the paleness of his cheek. 

“She’s so perfect,” he whispered, crouching down, her little breaths fanning his face. He didn’t know how to act, how to be. This little being, half grown already, was his by a woman he had loved more than the universe itself. 

Suddenly, he got to his feet, facing you with a determination you’d rarely seen. “I will protect you, I promise,” he declared, gesturing to you and your daughter. “We leave, right now, and we never have to hear about Asgard again. We can live peacefully. You can raise her within the culture she was born in. We can go anywhere, anywhere you want. Just promise to stay with me.”

“I do,” you said, laughing, crying, all at once because this was never the life you’d imagined. This was what you’d wanted in the darkness of your soul, the darkest part that told you it was unattainable. 

“Promise never to leave me again,” he whispered. “Promise not to take her away from me.”

“I promise,” you said, promising all at once that Nari would wake up and love him, because her heart was grander than the both of you. Promising all at once that you’d lead an nontraditional life, but a life still. A life together.