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iamstartraveller776 · 2 months

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"Trouble" by Natalia Kills (consider this an experiment to see how many times your askbox eats it.)

(Pretty sure this one didn't get eaten because I didn't save it to drafts!) I hope the first chapter of Rumor Has It from Loki's POV will suffice!

Summary: New country, new school, and yet everything continues to be unremittingly tedious. Not even his brother's rager can cure Loki's apathy—that is, until he finds a surprise waiting in his bedroom. Perhaps life in the States won't be so boring after all.

Rating: T

Genre: Modern/Non-Magical AU, High School AU, Humor, Teen Romance

Also on AO3

A NEW KIND OF FUN 1/1

“Just a few friends,” Thor’d said. Loki knew better. He leaned over the second floor railing, rolling his eyes as, in the large foyer below, his brother greeted yet another swarm of eager groupies. Typical. He doubted Thor knew any of them by name, but that didn’t stop each one from acting as if a beloved god had deigned to shine his light upon them. New school, new country, and nothing had changed.

How dull.

“Loki!” Thor called up to him. “Stop lurking and join us!” When Loki didn’t snap to it immediately, he glowered. “You promised!”

Loki exhaled a sour laugh, then gave Thor a winning smile. God forbid anyone disappoint the Golden Son. “Of course, brother!” He straightened, spreading his arms out. “Let’s get this party started!”

As if on cue, music boomed suddenly as the Marshmello-wannabe Thor had hired began his set in the ballroom. The sycophants below ate it up, jumping up and down with excitement. Loki sucked in a deep breath, slipping into his role like an old familiar second skin. With an unintelligible shout that matched the energy below, he hopped on the banister and slid down toward crowd. Thor and his fellow athletes surged forward to catch him, to lift him above their heads and carry him through the house.

Woo. Hoo.

It wasn’t long before every level of the estate was wall-to-wall with teens and crashers from the nearby university, nearly every one of them clutching a plastic cup of alcohol as if it were the elixir of life. Loki did his obligatory circuit, starting in the kitchen with the first keg stand competition of the night. He was suitably enthusiastic when Thor won. (Shocker.) Next came a few games of beer pong—which became easier to win each round as his opponents got more tipsy. Hurray for him.

He wandered through the crowds, keeping up his cheery demeanor despite the unspent sigh burning in his lungs. For the whole of two minutes, he seriously considered polishing off a bottle of hard liquor to get through the hours of absurdity that still lay ahead. But no. Drunk Loki would do stupid shit he didn’t want to have to pay for later. It was better to pretend.

A few idiots had started riding down the grand staircase on large baking sheets that they’d pilfered from the kitchen. One of them tried surfing instead of riding his bit of metal like a sled, and inertia flung him head over heels into the horde. Hardly scathed, he leapt to his feet with a howl, throwing his arms into the air in victory. The baking sheet was warped beyond repair, and the family housekeeper would positively lose her mind over it—until Thor paid her off with a lethal dose of charm and promises to replace everything. And money. Lots of money. The cure to all the ills of the world.

Loki’s snort earned him a sidelong glance from a nearby celebrant. It only took a second before recognition widened in her gaze. Shit, she was one of those girls from school. A giggling, hair-twirling girl who would flirt shamelessly with him if it meant getting closer to his brother. Unlike the popularity-chasers back home, they weren’t subtle here. At all. He could probably get her to do a double flip off the roof into the pool with only the promise he’d pass her number along.

Boring. Boring. Boring.

Her friends eyed him with varying levels of the same social-climbing interest. Oh, even better. They were of the less common breed that actually wanted him—or, rather, his reputation. It took very little effort to keep his disdain from his face, as practiced as he was. Perhaps he could find some entertainment in this. He made a show of looking them over, mouth curved up with an appreciative grin that he didn’t feel. Predictably, they all leaned toward him with almost feral anticipation.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” He laced the question with a measure of enticement.

Not bothering to wait for a reply, he headed toward the ballroom. They followed like the squealing lemmings they were.

The music was loud enough that he didn’t have to talk to any of them. He did, however, have to endure their pathetic attempts to grind against him seductively for the next half hour. Definitely not an amusing distraction, this. One of them tripped into him and her drink sloshed onto his shirt.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” she yelled over the thumping bass. Her face twisted into a bad imitation of a come-hither look as she bit her lip. “I can help you clean it up!”

Leaning forward, he didn’t miss the naked excitement in her large eyes. “Oh, darling,” he murmured against her ear. “You really can’t.” With a parting wink, he pushed past her and the others. He might have taken the slightest bit of perverse pleasure in the sneering “Bastard!” she shot at his retreating back.

Why were they always so surprised that playing with fire got them burned? Americans were so stupid.

He weaved through the masses toward the staircase in the back of the house, pulling his shirt away from his skin. God, what the hell had the girl been drinking? A little of everything from how awful it smelled. He ascended the stairs two at a time and nearly made it to the landing before someone caught his arm.

“Loki! Where are you going in such a hurry?”

He rolled his eyes, recognizing that overly saccharine feminine voice. Lorelei. The most boring of all the would-be temptresses. She’d been trying to sink her talons into him practically from the beginning of the term. Flanked by her two lackeys, she was dressed in whatever went for club chic in Cambridge—metallic and sparkly. And very, very short.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He wasn’t about to mention needing to change his clothes lest she mistake it as an invitation. She seemed to think their brief interactions were some kind of distorted foreplay.

“What I want to know,” she said, inching closer to him and walking her fingers up his chest, “is why I never see you at Hal’s.” She gave him a pout he was supposed to find fetching. He didn’t.

“Not my scene.” He pried her fingers away from him. “Too pedestrian.”

There it was, the flash of confusion across her Instagram-worthy features whenever he used a big word. The girl had probably never read anything longer than a fashion magazine.

“Enjoy the party.” He stepped around her and hurried to his room.

Once inside, he pulled off the malodorous shirt and chucked it toward the laundry bin. He could still smell the unholy cocktail on his skin, though. Disgusting. There wasn’t time for a shower sadly. He’d rather not suffer whatever humiliation Thor would mete out should he try to skip the rest of the festivities. Because Loki promised. To stop brooding over their move across the pond and be happy for one night. Blah. Blah. Blah.

He'd just finished washing the stink off his chest in his private bathroom when he heard the latch of his bedroom door. Had he forgotten to lock it? If someone thought to make this their temporary love nest…

His trespasser wasn’t a couple in the throes of inebriated passion, but a petite girl with long brown locks, her jeans and flannel shirt more suited to one of the bonfires the townies put on every weekend than a party at a mansion. She didn’t notice his presence, her attention fixed on his library. He hung back as she ran her fingertips over the spines of some book or another, her touch bordering on reverent. Terribly curious, this. He felt as if he ought to know her, though he couldn’t say how—not until he caught her profile as she pulled down his copy of The Evolution of Physics.

Jane Foster? The driven student in his maths and science classes who gave him a run for his money when it came to earning top marks. He’d actually had to study to keep up with her, and the girl was in the year behind his. What was she doing here and in his room, no less? He was pretty sure that her sole ambition in life was in academia. Status-seeker she most definitely was not.

She whistled softly in admiration as she gently opened the book, likely noting that it was a first edition. He could stay in the shadows and quietly observe what she did next. Or he could have a little fun.

And fun was, well, fun.

Loki stepped more fully into the room. “Do you always go through people’s things without their consent?”

Jane let out a startled squeak, the book almost slipping from her hands. “I’m sorry. I—” The rest of her apology cut off abruptly when her gaze landed on him.

Emotions passed over her face in rapid succession. Sheepishness, followed by chagrin, then a different kind of surprise as she took in his state of undress. Her eyes seemed unable to leave his bare torso, cheeks turning a brilliant shade of pink. Did she just swallow? He grinned. This was too perfect.

“I’ve only come to change my shirt,” he said, reaching back to turn the lock on the door, “but if you insist…” He began undoing his belt buckle as he slowly crossed the room toward her.

Her eyes went comically round. “No! I’m not—” She backed into the shelves. “I’m not here for…that.” Was that a fight stance she just stepped into? That tiny thing thought she could take him?

Hilarious. Literally hilarious. He couldn’t keep a straight face anymore. He laughed harder than he remembered ever laughing. God, even his stomach hurt. “The look on your face,” he said once he could get a hold of himself. “I’m going to remember that for years.”

She huffed in disgust. “You’re such an asshole!”

Unmoved, he admitted with a shrug, “I’ve been called worse.”

She opened her mouth, probably to unleash another paltry insult, when someone knocked. “Jane?” a girl’s voice called out on the other side.

Oh, but Loki wasn’t ready for playtime to be over yet. He hurried to the door ahead of Jane, opening it hardly more than a crack to imply that his companion had to make herself presentable.

“Looking for your friend?” he asked the dark-haired girl in the hallway.

“Whoa! You’re actually kind of hot,” she said, sizing him up with the same kind of annoying interest the others had shown him earlier.

He gave her a wry smile. “Shocking, I know. But you’ve come for Jane.” He nudged the door all the way open and said conspiratorially, “She’s been keeping me company.”

Jane’s friend gasped as her gaze flicked between the two of them, very obviously drawing the conclusion he’d intended.

He let out a sigh. “It’s a pity we were interrupted when things were getting really fun.” To Jane, he gave a forlorn expression. “I suppose you have to leave now.”

She was gearing up to deny everything by the wild glint in her eyes, and on impulse, he took her face in both hands and drew her up to him for a kiss. He’d only meant to shut her up and perhaps lend weight to the misconceptions he’d been seeding, but damn. When she forgot herself and relaxed into him, tilting her head just the right way, he was tempted to slam the door shut on her friend and have a good snog. Who knew the teacher’s pet had it in her?

But despite his every instinct to deepen the kiss, he broke apart from her. Because—yes, that. The glazed-over look she gave him, rosy lips parted in an absolute stupor. That was worth cruelly ending their interlude too early.

“I’ll see you on Monday, then,” he said with another wistful sigh as he stepped back from her.

She nodded numbly, staggering as her friend dragged her out of the room. It wasn’t until they were halfway down the hall that he realized she still had something of his. A wondrously horrible idea came to him as he leaned out of the doorway.

“Oh, and Jane!” he called after her loudly, making sure to get the attention of everyone milling about nearby. “You can borrow my books any time you want.” He winked at her horrified expression before shutting the door and succumbing to another fit of laughter.

Finally something new. And he was only getting started.

~FIN~

#lokane #lokane ff #lokane fanfic #loki x jane foster #jane foster x loki #loki x jane #jane x loki #my fic #rumor has it #a new kind of fun #prompt fill #star replies #averbaldumpingground

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plainlo-inthemorning · 8 months

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Shine a Light

Warnings: Angst

Rating: Mature

Words: 23 k (complete)

Summary:

All hell has broken loose at the TVA following the death of He Who Remains, and Loki is once more lost and utterly alone. But then a forgotten face from his past reappears, presenting the trickster god with a new, yet strangely familiar riddle to be solved.

Up on AO3 here

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belligerentmistletoe · 2 years

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Ok here is my participation to Loki Rarepair Big Bang & Reverse Bang

And I was SO happy that it inspired @playinggalaga to write such an amazing story!

Please go read Falling, I Will Catch You on Ao3 and leave kudos and love because it's just so deserved!! :)

PS: I was inspired by an amazing Photomanip made by @gabbiki that you can find here

#loki #lokane #jane foster #belligerentmistletoe #playinggalaga #fanart #inspired by fanfic #rare pair #reverse big bang #loki fanart

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iamartemisday · 2 years

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After ten long years, we’re at the end.

Thank you to everyone who ever read this story. It’s been fun.

#Lokane #Loki #Jane Foster #Lokiday #fanfic

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unnecessaryyandere · 5 months

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Defying Gods

Forgotten by the world Jane Foster struggles with her own insignficance until an unlikely ally appears. Forcing her to choose between her dreams and mortality.

#jane foster #AU #fanfiction #a03 fanfic #a03 #marvel #thor #lokane #jane foster deserved better #Doctor Doom #Victor von doom #Doctor Doom/Jane Foster #Yandere male #dark romance #hero to villain #corruption #loki

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adrift-in-thyme · 2 years

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It’s posting day!! Here’s my fic for the @lokirarepairbigbang inspired by @belligerentmistletoe ‘s GORGEOUS art!

⭐️ Rating: T

⭐️ Pairing: Loki/Jane Foster

⭐️ Warning(s): Graphic Depictions of Violence

⭐️ Tags to watch out for: implied/referenced suicide attempt, torture, self-hatred, self harm, cancer, temporary major character death

⭐️Summary:

When Loki plummets into the harsh embrace of the Void, he believes it is the end. After all, who can survive such a place? But hidden in the recesses of the darkness and cold are monsters such as he has never seen before.

And they are waiting for him.

Unable to escape the clutches of Thanos and his children and on the brink of losing himself to the control of the Mind Stone, Loki calls out for Thor.

The Mighty Thor comes instead.

#lokirarepairbigbang&reversebang #my fanfic #loki/jane #lokane #fanfic

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aenigmaticdays · 1 year

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Years too late, but I only *just* received a first hate-mail about a Lokane fanfic I wrote years ago, linking it to how I must be quite a vile human being to write stories about cheating. (And that I actually needed a partner to cheat on me in real life.)

*hmmm*

Fiction vs. real life, anyone? Apparently either I or the reviewer can’t distinguish between either.

#Fanfic #hate mail #lokane #musings

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indirecticn · 2 months

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What made you pick up this character? 👀

questions best asked for those who portray canon characters, and for those who’d like to get to know the author behind said canons better.

well! firstly.. i have written loki before a long time ago, like mcu loki uhmm post avengers, i believe. but then i got into the myth side of loki and had that for a bit instead and wrote more of thor and jane and darcy lol.

but as of this past year ive really been more active on my nobody owens and eros blogs, and then i randomly one night like early jan, i stayed up until 3am reading this lokane fic and the URGE to write loki slapped me in the face and stole my pocket change.

i just like him. idk if it's much deeper than that really. i think he has a good story in the mcu because of the series and ive read the comics and enjoyed what they did there too.

idk i have a headache right now so this reply is shit but basically a lokane fanfic did me in lmfao.

#ooc

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rosalysaoirse · 1 year

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Tag Game - Fandom Edition

Thanks for the tag @iamstartraveller776 💙💙

Your Name: Rosaly (pen-name); Lya (nickname with friends but I prefer if they use my full name)

Your First Fandom: HP.

Your Current Fandom: Technically still active in the Lokane fandom. Currently in the Romance Club fandom (it's a visual novel app). They're more active on Reddit. Been involved in the football and F1 fandom for a long time now. And CW's Nancy Drew.

How did you first get into fandom?: The last movies of HP came out and my entire class (actually my entire year, I think) were freaking obsessed. So I started looking up stuff so I was as knowledgeable as them. Took me into fanfics, then into Twilight 🤫 and from there...

How long have you been engaging in fandom spaces?: A little over 12 years.

How often do you read fanfic?: Less often than I used to (getting back to writing a little now).

Top three characters from your current fandom?: This is so hard 😅. I'll pick from RC. Adil, The Desert Rose; Vicky Walker, Heaven's Secret; Ares, Rage of the Titans.

Have you ever written a fic for a fandom and if so, shout it out!: Yep. It's all here.

Have you ever drawn fan art for a fandom?: Nope. But I want to. I wish I can spend more time learning to draw.

Share a personal headcanon that you feel strongly about: That Loki had a little more feelings for Jane than canon ever established.

You’re trying to convince a friend to get into your current fandom(s) with you. what episode, clip, or scene are you showing them?: I tried to convert my friend to Lokane once. It's that scene in TDW, when they first met. For my current fandom... the scene when Vicky slays Satan in Heaven's Secret S2. It was fire. There are scenes like that in the other stories too. For Nancy Drew, I'd say S2 EP11. It's one of my favourite episodes (not that I could choose... they're all good!). For football and F1, just highlight reels.

And finally, what does fandom mean to you?: Community. Comfort. A place where I can just be, learn things, share things. Sometimes they're the brightest spark in my day.

No pressure tags (and anyone else): @finnismyoriginalsin @ancientflight @starfilled-heart @vixenofcourse @fay-lans @southsidestory @justarandomgirly @varangianviper @iamnmbr3 @thesaltofcarthage

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iamstartraveller776 · 1 year

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*rubs hands together*

Okay, I was gonna ask a different one but I figured Loki would know how to get rid of a dead body so

“tell me i’m the only one who makes you feel so good, no one could make you feel the way i do, isn’t that right?” for Lokane please

Rating: M

Genre: Canon divergence-ish, Drama, Romance

Summary: [Post-Thor: Love and Thunder] He’s there in the afterlife she’s chosen, always watching, always wanting. (ao3)

A/N: For a full second, I really considered going crack!fic with this. I swear I did. But alas the muse had other ideas. Important note: despite this being Infinity War Loki, I tend to ignore nearly all canon changes to his (and now Jane’s) characterization(s) beyond Thor: The Dark World.

ALIKE BUT NOT

His gaze has substance, she’s learned. A touch almost, a whispered caress. She hadn’t noticed it when she met him in Asgard, too angry over the Battle of Manhattan, too anemic from the Infinity Stone razing through her insides. But she feels the press of his regard now while she drifts through Valhalla.

Those pale eyes are an unspoken question as he enters the practice yards. It’s a strange thing to learn that the destruction of the Realm Eternal wasn’t the foretold Ragnarök, that the crowning battle is still somehow yet to come. While there is drinking and feasting and carousing, skills must be kept sharp. And so many want a turn to face off against the Mighty Thor. She’s a novelty, the frail mortal who was worthy of Mjölnir. Though she no longer carries the weapon, its power still resides with her.

(Along with a residue of something else too.)

Settling on top of a low wall, he watches her fight, dragging a finger thoughtfully across his lips. She bristles under that unblinking stare, at the bare lift of his brow that seems to ask, “Well?” She answers. Her opponent finds himself laid out within seconds. The next three as well. One of King Valkyrie’s sisters gives her a real challenge, and she wins by a hair. It’s only then she catches a bare shift in his expression, a trace of respect.

He's not quite maligned, but not truly welcome. It’s subtle. He’s never denied the opportunity to join in recounting epic battles and even more legendary antics. They’ll laugh at his silver-tongued anecdotes. They’ll toast. But he’s not one of them.

Neither is she.

Because the Mighty Thor is not all she is, but in this bellicose society, it’s all that matters. She aches for more and is disturbed when she recognizes the same dissatisfaction in his tactile gaze.

He disappears occasionally. It’s impossible to count the hours, the days, in a place without time, yet his absences span too long. As if his weighted interest has become the gravity keeping her tethered to this existence. Without his muted grin as he looks on, sparring in the practice yards feels tedious. Without his bald glances in the dining hall, the tales recited by others are less vibrant, less alive. The halls are too cavernous without his towering stature devouring the space, and she despises that she notices.

She knows who he is, what he was. She hasn’t forgotten the aftermath from his failed attempt at world domination. Her beloved mentor never fully recovered. He may have earned his place here by saving his brother (again) and the Asgardian survivors, but she catches glimpses of the truth when no other eyes are on him. He still despises. He still wants. She knows better than to follow when he slips away from the evening banquet.

Yet she does anyway.

His trail meanders through the sprawling palace, to wings she hasn’t explored before. There is beauty here surpassing anything she’s laid eyes on. Colors so vivid, gold and silver so smooth and pure, that she has trouble not being pulled into rapture. It’s distraction enough that a hand on her arm surprises her. She’s yanked around a corner, pushed against a wall before she thinks to call on her power in defense.

He grins, and there’s a wild delight in it. “The Mighty Thor,” he says with a blend of mockery and something else she can’t name. “What an honor.”

“Let go, Loki,” she returns evenly.

His eyes flick to where his fingers cage her wrist against the marble near her head. He raises a brow as if considering whether the price of defying her is worth paying. She lets loose a flare of the electricity that lives in her chest, only enough to galvanize her skin in warning. His smile becomes strained, but he doesn’t release her, not until she sends another biting jolt.

“Oh, don’t be cross,” he says, holding up his hands. “It was only bit of harmless sport.”

She snorts. “There’s nothing harmless about you.”

Dimples press deeper into his cheeks when he laughs softly. He likes that she seems to know him. That she won’t underestimate him like the others do. His gaze dips, taking her measure in languid appreciation—as if he doesn’t underestimate her either. Her stomach stirs with a fetid blend of repulsion and promise.

He turns, heads down the hall a few steps before casting a glance over his shoulder. “What?” he says. “Already bored with playing my shadow?”

She scoffs at the notion, almost leaves out of spite, but curiosity has always been her siren song. With a glower, she gestures for him to lead on.

A few more corners and then their destination is before them with spanning, gilded arches. Of all the possibilities, she would never have guessed that this is his hiding place. Shelves extend beyond sight, filled with scrolls and leatherbound tomes. Her heart leaps, the sting of almost-tears in her eyes as she steps through the entrance.

“The great archive,” he says behind her, though she barely hears him. “Where all the knowledge of Yggdrasil lives.”

This is where she belongs. This is home.

She pulls down a book, tenderly cracking it open. But she can’t read the runic language on its vellum pages. Replacing the book, she takes another. Then another and another. Every one inked in the same strange hand. Revelation sinks like poisoned lead in her middle. All the information she could ever want at her fingertips, and she doesn’t have the literacy to access it.

“Oh, dear,” he murmurs next to her. “Did my vaulted brother never teach you Aesir?” He sucks in a breath in feigned condolence. “How terribly sad for you.”

She glares at him, but her anger, her disappointment is clearly the food and drink he craves. Swallowing back a rising invective, she tips her chin up. “I’ll figure it out.” One way or another.

He raises his brows as if her obstinacy amuses him. “This I will have to see.”

Hours, days, or more pass under his unwavering eyes as she makes very little headway in deciphering the foreign writings. He sprawls across a recamier in a corner of the archive, near the table where she’s laid out a dozen open books and scrolls. There are sheets of parchment with notes scratched in pen and ink. His only commentary on her efforts is the smirk he barely hides behind his own tome.

Linguistics isn’t her field, but she thinks that it can’t be all that different from extrapolating data from the models in her lab. It is, though. Frustration sets her nerves alight, sparks her fingers with blue-white energy. He huffs a laugh, and she’s tempted to hurl a bolt at him.

She goes back to the practice yards. He doesn’t follow.

It becomes an unending round. Retreat and return. No matter how she promises herself she’ll stay away from the archives, from him, eventually the clarion bell of it—of them both—becomes too loud to ignore. She cannot resist what is at the core of who she is, that insatiable appetite for learning. She cannot go long without being seen, even if it is through his eyes. But then the impossibility of her self-inflicted task and the taunt in his laugh grows oppressive, and she flees again. Over and over.

He breaks this cycle with a hand over hers as, on tip-toes, she reaches for a scroll high on the shelves. His fingers are smooth, cool, and she hides a shiver, ignores the chills sweeping down her arm.

“Let me,” he says, grazing her skin as he stretches over her. He retrieves a different scroll—not that it matters; they’re all the same to her untrained eye.

When he steps back, she turns, holds out her hand with a grudging “thank you” ready on her tongue.

He cocks his head with a vulpine grin. “Admit defeat.”

She scoffs. “No.” Never. Not to him.

He advances on her, forces her to back into the shelves. “Say you need me.”

“I don’t.” She squares her shoulders, sets her jaw, though her pulse falters when his tongue briefly crests his bottom lip.

He leans forward, warm breath against her cheek, and whispers, “Liar.” His nose brushes against her hair, and her eyes flutter closed. “Tell me the truth, Jane. Tell me you need me.”

She opens her mouth to deny him, but something inside of her sings. It’s faint, straining toward him, and she can almost feel an answering harmony resonating from him. Alike yet not. He draws back, holds her gaze, and in this timeless place, the moment is suspended. A hitched breath between one blink and the next.

She remembers who he is, what he was. Yet, like before, it’s not warning enough to keep her away, not completely.

“I do need you,” she confesses, and before triumph can fully bloom on his angular features, she finishes, “to teach me Aesir.”

His grin turns both sardonic and wider. With a gaze that flicks briefly to her lips, he says, “Ask me nicely.”

“Please.” She doesn’t bother to soften the barbed edge in her tone.

He hums in approval, and the sound pebbles on her skin. “All that fire in such a tiny form,” he says. “So much life. He didn’t know what to do with it, did he?” But I do. The unspoken affirmation is written in his predacious expression.

She pretends not to see it. “Are you going to help me or not?”

He presses the scroll into her hand. “Since there’s nothing better to do in this never-ending purgatory, I think I will.”

Hours, days, or more pass under his exacting tutelage. He is her Rosetta Stone, the cypher to unlock the texts. At times he is too impatient. Others he is too indifferent. Always, though, he is too close. Hovering over her in the stacks, thigh pressed against hers at the table. She reasons that it’s a small price to pay to finally have access to limitless knowledge.

It has nothing to do with that tune buzzing inside her chest. Still faint but growing.

He stays at her side even when she no longer needs his help with the words. She doesn’t complain. Because he can bandy theories with her as easily as the others cross weapons with her in the practice yards. She still goes, though not often, and only when he sours their enthusiastic discussions with a cutting reference to his brother—how the God of Thunder couldn’t have hoped to keep up with her singular mind.

But I can.

He follows her there too. Sitting on the low wall with his ubiquitous gaze trained on her. It’s less a whispered caress, more grasping. Not a question. Not even a dare. But intention. She throws herself into every skirmish as if each opponent she bests will crack the steely blade of his focus. Again and again. Until the archive calls to her.

He breaks this cycle too.

She’s reaching for another scroll to high for her fingertips, and he crowds her into the shelves. But he isn’t there to help. Instead, his hand slides against her hip, down and forward, while his sigh smolders against her neck. The song inside of her swells at the heady sensation.

“Stop,” she whispers with fragile resolve.

“Why?” he asks in an equally fractured voice. His lips brush where her flesh curves toward her shoulder. “You have been touched by a power greater than any of them can fathom. You were chosen—as was I.”

His words are a voltaic truth that she can deny no longer. It’s not only his gaze that is ever stretching toward her, but the fragment of the Tesseract he carries in his soul. Calling endlessly to the Aether in hers.

She doesn’t have the will to fight it anymore.

When he tangles his other hand in her hair, nudges her head to the side, she relents without argument. She leans back into him, eyes closed as he marks a path on her skin with his mouth.

She expects him to hurry. He doesn’t. He draws out each touch, each kiss. Undoes a buckle, a tie in their clothing between each step toward the recamier, between each press of his lips and tongue against hers. She expects him to be rough. He isn’t. He lays her down gently like a devoted acolyte preparing to worship his deity. The music inside builds to a blinding crescendo as he, with rapt attention, raises her body to the same staggering heights.

It's only when he joins her, when he has her at the precipice once more that she sees a shade of the depraved dark prince.

“Tell me,” he rasps, clearly affected but stubbornly refusing to let her fall, “that no one else can give you this. Tell me you need me.”

She’s furious, but she thinks she might go mad if she remains balanced on the knife edge between critical urgency and blessed release. “Yes,” she hisses, digging her heel into his spine to encourage him to finish the job. “Yes, I need you.”

He smirks before capturing her mouth with his. She doesn’t leave him unscathed when he tumbles with her from their soaring peak.

He laughs afterward at the scorch marks her lightning left down his back. She thinks she should feel guilty, though she can’t manage even a facsimile of the emotion. Not guilt for her retaliation, but for giving him what he’s always coveted—anything that belonged to his brother. Yet, he’s right. Who else has had a taste of something as old as the cosmos and been irrevocably changed by it? Who else drinks from the fountain of knowledge and is never sated? Who else can equal her?

Who else can equal him?

“You need me.” Cradled against his bare chest, she says the words in the same moment that revelation dawns. She did not succumb to him. They succumbed together. Though she isn’t sure that he will admit to such weakness—

“Oh, yes.”

She smiles.

~FIN~

#lokane #lokane ff #lokane fanfic #loki x jane foster #jane foster x loki #my fic #alike but not

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pay-her-a-visit · 1 year

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Sorry to bother. I've been looking for a fanfic based on lokane.

Loki becomes somewhat obsessed with Jane and also loves here.

The beginning of the fic is about Jane crossing the street and an old woman stops her and tells her that she a mark on her forehead( a curse maybe) and the one who put it is obsessed with her. She then gives her something to wear ( a necklace? ) to wear so that she doesn't sleep and see who visits her late at night. When she wears it, she hears someone talking but cannot see who. She soon realized that it was Loki and he knows by the locket on her neck that she knows and he also cannot touch her because of it.

That's all I can remember and sorry for the confusion, but I really want to read this fic again and it also has a series.

So please help me 😢

I am sooo sorry for not answering this when you sent it to me @p-e-n-e-l-o-p-e . For some reason tumblr never gave me notices when i got messages for this blog so i just assumed there wasn't any! I hope you found the story you were looking for. I can't even remember if i've read this fic before. It doesn't sound familiar to me so i'll add this to the tag and maybe someone can help.

#loki x jane #lokane

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nymphl · 1 year

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2, 13, 20 for the deep writer asks!

Hello there!

Once again I was OMFG EVILMOUSE SENT ME AN ASK!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT???? Sent my friend a message and we’re fangirling together 😂 😂 😂 sorry, not sorry 🙃

Well, done with fangirling (not actually), onto the questions!!!

2. what’s a fic that took you to an emotional/dark/hard place?

I write for many many fandoms. So I think more than one fic drove me to dark/hard places. I’ll mention 2 here. But it’s for very different reasons. One of them is called Lord of Ice, a Lokane (leave me and my crackships alone 😂) story that I’ve only written one chapter, but I liked this chapter SO MUCH that everything I wrote after that seemed lacking. It drove me to a desperate point in which I couldn’t write for ANY fandom at all. And everything I wrote seemed so bad that I got a severe writer’s block that took me almost one year to recover from. That’s when I got started with this account here and the Star Wars stories ♥️

And the other fic is for the Bleach fandom, called Illusion of You. I got this one started on 2020 for the Wattys. Of course I couldn’t finish, and so far I’ve 70k written and I got 1/3 of the story done 🙃. But this story drives me to places sometimes it’s difficult to keep writing. While I use a cheerful character as my protagonist (even though she’s one of the most violent backgrounds in Bleach) the themes are sad and quite dark. Each chapter I write makes me hate capitalism even sometimes myself for making the characters suffer so much. My friend says that each chapter of IOY is like a “painful punch in the pit of the stomach”. But at the same time I’m quite proud of this story because I think if a cyberpunk/sci-fi story doesn’t make you nauseous/angry something is wrong.

So both stories drove me to dark/hard places. One that made it too difficult for me to keep writing for a while, because I thought I wasn’t good enough and the other because of its themes.

13. Do you take pride in your writing, or does it embarrass you? Why?

Yeah. You could say, yeah… I usually don’t say that I write to everyone but that’s because as a Elementary teacher I think that would be embarrassing, yes, to have my kid’s parents or my coworkers reading my kinktober stories. But that’s not because I’m ashamed of writing them or I’m embarrassed of my writing… it’s just to avoid awkward situations.

Can’t have a meeting with one parent that while I say his kids misbehaved they’ll be thinking I wrote a chapter with DP kink with Thrawn and Arihnda (ESPECIALLY when some of them like Star Wars).

20. What’s the greatest gift you’ve gotten from your writing?

Friends. Definitely. I made friends that are with me for more than 10 years. Friends I love very much. I think engaging in fandom can give us many unforgettable moments and people.

Besides that, it made my English improve A LOT. When I decided to write in English because almost no one in Brazil wrote for the ships I liked, my English was horrible. Now it’s so much better. I owe it all to fanfic and fandom.

Thanks for the ask, darling! I had a blast answering it and reliving some moments here 😂

#ask #ask meme #evilmouse #myevilmouse #writing #bleach fandom #bleach fanfic #star wars fandom #star wars fanfic

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