Jul 10, 2023
Chapter 02 is out now!! :)
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Chapter 02 is out now!! :)
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The Pursuit of a Simple Life (Chapter 3 - Penthouse Passion)
[Co-Authored with @emeraldrosequartzâ]
Rating: 18+ (there be lots of citrus here).
Warning: None
Pairing: Loki/Original Female Character
Summary: Three years after returning to Earth with the other Asgardians following Ragnarok, Loki finds himself working for SHIELD, truly just trying to fight the boredom. While on an undercover mission, he unexpectedly begins to fall for his co-worker, Gemma, and she seems to feel the same wayâŠabout Dave, his alter ego while in disguise. Can Loki continue a relationship with her while keeping his true identity a secret? How many lies can the 'God of lies' spin to keep his pursuit of a simple life?
[Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017); THOR IS A GOOD BRO AND TOTALLY NOT HOW HE WAS IN RAGNAROK, THNX; Infinity War Doesn't Exist; Everyone lives]
A/N: Loki--OOPS, we mean, DAVE and Gemma get it on.
_________________________
IMPORTANT NOTES:
Bold Text = Loki's POV
Normal Text = Gemma's POV
________________________________
His touch was electric - soft yet firm, gentle and strong...the way he ran the tip of his nose along her pulse point, his warm breath and smiling mouth trailing goosebumps along her skin. If she had any resistance left in her, that touch dissipated all of it. She turned her face to his, eyes half-closed. It was almost trancelike, his gorgeous features taking up her entire field of vision.
âOh, Dave,â she said softly, then she leaned in and kissed him. His stubble was scratchy but wonderful, and she tasted the whiskey on his tongue. She heard herself moan just a little bit at how good he felt. Red flags be damned, this was happening.
Norns, he couldn't get enough of her. His mouth all but devoured her as he intensified the kiss, pulling her to him so quickly that she landed on his lap.Â
He groaned as she straddled him, connecting her centre to his bulging crotch.
She was so damn warm!
His head nearly spun with arousal.
Just as his mind reminded him that he was basically ruining her, his hands reached up and cupped her luscious breasts, his mouth still possessing hers... still tasting her...
The Pursuit of a Simple Life (Chapter 1 - PAC & Co.)
[Co-Authored with @emeraldrosequartzâ]
Rating : 18+ (there be lots of citrus here).
Warning: None
Pairing: Loki/Original Female Character
Summary: Three years after returning to Earth with the other Asgardians following Ragnarok, Loki finds himself working for SHIELD, truly just trying to fight the boredom. While on an undercover mission, he unexpectedly begins to fall for his co-worker, Gemma, and she seems to feel the same wayâŠabout Dave, his alter ego while in disguise. Can Loki continue a relationship with her while keeping his true identity a secret? How many lies can the âGod of liesâ spin to keep his pursuit of a simple life?Â
[Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017); THOR IS A GOOD BRO AND TOTALLY NOT HOW HE WAS IN RAGNAROK, THNX; Infinity War Doesnât Exist; Everyone lives]
_________________________________
IMPORTANT NOTES: Bold Text = Lokiâs POV Normal Text = Gemmaâs POV
_________________________________
Loki sat at his desk, going through a list of mundane tasks that he had to perform today. Most of them were meetings.
Those just bored him enough to make him contemplate another take-over of Midgard.
At least it would be an exciting endeavour!
But⊠Loki wasnât the same as he was during the campaign of 2012. He had recovered and dealt with his demons, as the Midgardians would say. It also helped to not have a constant psychotic influence on his mind.
He still suffered from the consequences of his actions, though, in certain ways. But over all, he was faring well, if heâd say so.
After landing on Midgard, post destroying Asgard, Loki had tried to settle down with other Asgardians in New Asgard (still counted as part of Norway). But, that hadnât really worked out for him.
Thor was their king now, and Loki just couldnât stand being relegated to his brotherâs shadow while he ruled. He had himself ruled Asgard for more than three years, and now, the demotion just rankled.
The issue was, Loki wanted to carve out a niche for himself, a space where he belonged, where he could not be held down by the stuffy Asgardian values.
Hence, one day, just weeks after landing on Midgard, he had shown up at Nicholas Furyâs office. The man had nearly ruptured a vein in his head upon seeing Loki there. That was fun.
But it had worked out in Lokiâs favour in the end, for he had offered his services to SHIELD off his own volition, explaining - in great detail - how he felt responsible for the safety of Midgard.
Surprisingly, Thor had supported him in this endeavour when Fury had contacted him, entreating Fury to give Loki a chance, since he had recently rescued all of the Asgardians and been on âgood behaviourâ ever since. He had a sneaking suspicion that Thor just wanted him off his back, since he wouldnât stop nagging him about his kingly priorities and unwise administrative decisions.
For some reason, Fury hadnât put up a lot of resistance, agreeing to take Loki in as an aid to SHIELD.
Hence, here he was⊠trying his best to do his job.
Well, not quite.
He was undercover, investigating PAC & Co., the company he was pretending to work for. This was, by far, his most boring assignment in the last three years of his association with SHIELD.
The only bright point seemed to be the pretty young woman who sat a few desks away, in just the right location for them to be able to look at each other from time to time.
The Pursuit of a Simple Life (Chapter 5 - HQ)
[Co-Authored with @emeraldrosequartzââ]
Rating: 18+ (there be lots of citrus here).
Warning: None
Pairing: Loki/Original Female Character
Summary: Three years after returning to Earth with the other Asgardians following Ragnarok, Loki finds himself working for SHIELD, truly just trying to fight the boredom. While on an undercover mission, he unexpectedly begins to fall for his co-worker, Gemma, and she seems to feel the same wayâŠabout Dave, his alter ego while in disguise. Can Loki continue a relationship with her while keeping his true identity a secret? How many lies can the âGod of liesâ spin to keep his pursuit of a simple life?
[Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017); THOR IS A GOOD BRO AND TOTALLY NOT HOW HE WAS IN RAGNAROK, THNX; Infinity War Doesnât Exist; Everyone lives]
A/N: Thor and Loki catch up. Gemma gets excited to see Dave again. A little too excited.
(^^^^Credit to @briannacherrygarciaââ)
________________________________
IMPORTANT NOTES:
Bold Text = Lokiâs POV
Normal Text = Thorâs POV, then Gemmaâs POV
________________________________
Thor hung up the receiver with Fury and a slight smile crossed his lips. It had been several months since he and Loki had an opportunity to see each other, and he was honestly curious about how his brother was doing.
This new life as a SHIELD operative seemed to be suiting him well, though Thor was certain he would have become bored with it by now--Lokiâs magpie mind was always looking for the next shiny object to attract his attentions. And once he found it, heâd obsess over it, just like always...
Thor chuckled quietly to himself as he headed for the lounge in the R&R area of SHIELD headquarters. Heâd been so busy with the diplomatic efforts of giving the Asgardians some kind of legal status and protection, heâd hardly had time to even think about Loki other than the occasional question about how to approach a difficult political situation. It would be good to see him in person.
[15/06/2026 19:17] [Fragmento]
VocĂȘ Ă© meu irmĂŁo desgarrado.
NĂŁo de carne e osso,
mas de espĂrito livre.
Em outra vida,
fomos vagabundos iluminados.
Nesta,
apenas repetimos a dose.
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[14/11/2025] [NOTAS]
Eu quis me libertar da força que me puxa para a negação. A negação de mim mesmo, do desejo, daquilo que certas pessoas despertam em mim.
Queria despertar da monotonia. Queria me sentir desejado por inteiro.
Mas existe um muro. Sempre existe um muro.
A sensação constante de que assusto as pessoas. De que faço com que recuem, abandonem as próprias intençÔes e mudem de ideia no meio do caminho.
O prazo de validade das relaçÔes. As histórias interrompidas. A vontade sem vazão.
Mais triste do que um livro nunca terminado.
Os piores finais nĂŁo me assustam.
O que me fragiliza Ă© a desistĂȘncia.
A mordida pela metade.
A histĂłria interrompida antes de descobrir no que poderia ter se tornado.
[11/2025] [AUTOFICĂĂO]
Em algum momento a busca pela realização de um objeto de desejo desapareceu.
O desejo pela carne e pela emoção se transformou em um ego ferido buscando mérito pelo próprio sofrimento.
O que antes era concreto se tornou abstrato.
Meu objeto de desejo deixou de ser fĂsico e passou a ser a recompensa.
Mas qual recompensa?
Sexo ruim em busca de reparação?
Validação?
Reconhecimento?
A cada tentativa frustrada parecia que minha alma acumulava perdas, como se algo em mim fosse se esvaindo pelo caminho.
Te provar, ainda que abstratamente, que vocĂȘ estava errado devolveria as partes que perdi ao me relacionar com vocĂȘ?
Não as perdas de outras relaçÔes.
As nossas.
A intensidade da nossa vivĂȘncia criou assuntos pendentes por si sĂł.
Mas foi isso mesmo que aconteceu?
Eu realmente me fragmentei a cada rejeição?
A cada toque na ferida?
Toda vez que vocĂȘ reconsiderava e decidia, mais uma vez, que nĂŁo era isso que queria?
Eu nĂŁo sou um amante ruim.
Muito menos uma pessoa ruim.
Inconscientemente planejei uma histĂłria:
experiĂȘncias,
momentos,
afetos,
carinho.
Planejei me abrir e te entregar mais do que entrego aos outros.
Mas nĂŁo existe volta ao passado capaz de recuperar aquilo.
Também não existe culpa a ser dissolvida, porque nunca houve promessa da sua parte.
A perda foi sua, nĂŁo minha.
Não existem pedaços meus espalhados por aà esperando validação para retornar.
NĂŁo existe vergonha real no meu processo, mesmo quando tentei fabricar uma para dar significado ao sofrimento.
Meu apego Ă© meu descarrego.
A fantasia de chorar na sua frente e, no instante em que vocĂȘ virasse as costas, recuperar meu semblante cotidiano.
O jogo.
A manipulação.
A encenação.
Minha dor, mesmo parcialmente performada, me engrandece de forma estranha.
Querer demais me faz acreditar que ainda tenho força, mesmo sem realizar nada.
Talvez fosse mais fĂĄcil se vocĂȘ tivesse cedido.
Vivido.
Admitido que me achava extraordinĂĄrio por tudo aquilo que eu poderia ter te dado.
Mas nĂŁo.
Sua loucura margeia a hipocrisia tradicional.
VocĂȘ erra.
VocĂȘ se contradiz.
Mas existe alguma coisa diferente na maneira como faz isso.
[11/2025] [MENSAGENS Ă ENVIADAS]
De todas as pessoas nas quais eu poderia me jogar de cabeça, vocĂȘ nunca foi uma opção. Mas como a vida gosta de brincar, como jĂĄ fez mil vezes antes, me vi vivendo algo bom e inesperado. A coincidĂȘncia era vocĂȘ dentro dessa fĂłrmula tĂŁo batida da minha vida.
Eu quero, nĂŁo posso, entĂŁo sufoco.
Escrevi isso tantas vezes que perdi a conta.
Nunca foi sobre me apaixonar. Nunca foi sobre vocĂȘ â ou qualquer outro â ser extraordinĂĄrio. Minha busca nunca esteve no outro, mas em mim mesmo.
Refaço passos, reviso impulsos, erro e continuo errando. Levo essa emoção ao limite até que o toque precioso deixe de ser precioso pela exaustão da dor. Daà em diante tudo vira outra coisa: a busca pela recompensa, o mérito do sofrimento, a recuperação de um valor abstrato.
A verdade que eu nĂŁo quero encarar Ă© que a Ășnica perda dessa histĂłria talvez seja sua.
Enquanto tenta me adestrar com seus mĂ©todos, vocĂȘ nĂŁo percebe â ou percebe â que aquele universo aberto pra vocĂȘ se perdeu.
E quando encaro que a perda Ă© sua, nĂŁo hĂĄ mais nada a ser feito.
Dentro do meu placebo, acreditar que a perda é minha ainda sustenta alguma esperança. Enquanto o erro estå em mim, ainda existe controle, ainda existe a possibilidade de corrigir algo, ainda existe energia alimentando esse universo.
Mas e vocĂȘ?
O que existe nesse movimento de aproximação e recuo?
Por que a exposição repetitiva da minha ferida atĂ© uma cicatrização forçada parece valer tanto pra vocĂȘ?
Ăs vezes me sinto um objeto de estudo sendo condicionado. O rato no laboratĂłrio. Um dia o botĂŁo libera alimento, no outro pune a criatura com eletrochoque, e mesmo assim ela continua apertando.
Eu sei: dentro dessa analogia, quem se coloca como rato sou eu.
NĂŁo sou incapaz.
Se aperto o botĂŁo, Ă© porque quis.
Se permito a punição, existe responsabilidade minha nisso.
Mas nĂŁo acredito que assistir meu processo do seu lado seja apenas sobre cuidado.
Eu nĂŁo duvido do seu carinho, do seu âme-querer-bemâ. Sei que isso existe. Mas ninguĂ©m investe tanta energia em algo tĂŁo caĂłtico apenas pelo outro.
VocĂȘ pede acesso completo Ă minha psiquĂȘ enquanto reluta em oferecer sequer um reflexo seu.
Como pessoas que perdem alguĂ©m e passam o luto inteiro tentando acreditar que poderiam ter evitado aquela morte, vocĂȘ parece procurar algum tipo de redenção atravĂ©s dos outros.
Revive o trauma.
Tenta salvar alguém.
Busca dissolver uma culpa antiga.
VocĂȘ quer me salvar.
NĂŁo importa exatamente do quĂȘ.
Mas pra quĂȘ?
Me salvar te redimiria?
Te salvaria de si mesmo?
Qual Ă© a cruz que vocĂȘ carrega a ponto de precisar atravessar meus limites e me ver quebrar atĂ© perder a razĂŁo?
Cogitei que vocĂȘ quisesse recuperar o brilho nos olhos que perdemos pelo caminho. Cogitei que sĂł pudesse se permitir ceder se me visse grande primeiro. Cogitei atĂ© que estivesse tentando me moldar em alguĂ©m capaz de viver suas loucuras sem desassociar.
Parece que vocĂȘ quer que eu acompanhe tudo isso, mas nĂŁo acredita que eu consiga.
Mas o preço vale?
Existe um limite para as chances que eu dou Ă s coisas na vida. Provavelmente, se me ouvisse agora, diria algo como âquebre esses limitesâ.
Mas vale o risco de transformar tudo isso em trauma?
De desgastar a experiĂȘncia atĂ© que meu prĂłprio instinto comece a me afastar?
Uma hora o rato para de apertar o botĂŁo.
Ou morre de fome.