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gingerwritess · 2 years

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"I'm gonna burn this place to the ground." idk about you but to me that sounds like a good prompt for pre-dating idiots 👀

lol remember when the first trailer came out and we collectively lost our shit when loki said this?? aw. simpler times :’)

consider this the next part of pre-dating idiots!! woo!! pls be nice to me it’s been years

warnings: ooc?? I haven’t written for him in two (?) years?? injuries, pain, angst, the usual.

They’re both victims of the same incompetence, in all honesty.

A father who lied to them both, and a mother...

She was complicit.

Thor hates admitting it. Loki can’t decide if it makes things better or worse.

Thor needs to go see him. He knows it’s what needs to be done, and will have to happen eventually, but every time he approaches room 203, he just keeps walking and promises to do it tomorrow.

They have...too much to discuss. It’s intimidating.

Thor finds it too easy to use Loki’s necessary healing as an excuse not to disturb him.

You’re the one who finally make him do it, open the door and actually talk to him.

You’re on a business trip—managing some project on international relations following the attack on New York, from what he gathers—and won’t be back for about a month.

“Don’t let him ruin his progress,” you told him the day you left. “Please.”

At that, Thor dredged up enough conscience to feel bad for letting you think he’s been visiting Loki every other day.

You’re proud of him. It’s a good feeling.

He doesn’t want to lose it.

So he smiled and promised to keep his brother company, keep him smiling and healing and that he’ll be in even better shape when you return.

You’ll be back in a week and a half now, and he has yet to cross the threshold.

It’s only after Cap, Tony, and the others come to a decision with the local authorities and task him with breaking the news to Loki that he finally goes to him.

Even still, he doesn’t know where to start.

Loki is on his stomach when Thor walks in, still bedridden and bleeding with exhaustion in his gaunt eyes when he meets his gaze from the doorway.

“Come to gloat?”

His voice is hoarse—missing the tease, the careless grin and sly plot that used to tinge his words. It makes Thor bare his teeth in a slight grimace, wanting to be angry with him, fingers curled tight around the handle of mjolnir.

“I’ve come to...talk.” He clears his throat and takes the first shaky step towards the hospital bed. “We have much to discuss.”

“Well, consider me intrigued.” Loki’s lips curl into a cruel smirk, even smushed into his pillow. “What could we possibly have to talk about?”

“Stop that,” Thor snarls, taking a few more sudden steps towards him. “Now isn’t the time for–for...for you.”

“Ah. In that case, please, pull up a chair.”

He does, glancing around the room. It’s drab, with just one window and a hint of sunlight peeking through the closed blinds. An untouched tray of food sits on the bedside table.

They sit there in silence for too long before Thor speaks.

“You’re a frost giant.”

Loki just gives a hollow laugh. “That’s where you’d like to begin?”

“He lied to me, too,” Thor says. “I thought you were my—I thought you were Asgardian. My whole life.”

“That must have been difficult for you.”

“I—I knew you were different,” he pushes on, electing to ignore that jab, “I could see that, but you...”

“You trusted Odin completely, didn’t you?”

Thor nods slowly. “He’s my father. I...still do.”

At that, his brother turns his head to stare at the wall instead of him. He cut his hair. It’s choppy against his neck—Loki couldn’t have done it himself, not with his shoulder in that state and still in a sling.

“Odin,” comes Loki’s hiss, “raised us to hunt frost giants.”

Thor straightens in his seat, frowning at the back of his brothers head. “He raised us to be warriors, wary of likely enemies.”

“He raised us to kill. He gave you the power to destroy their entire realm.” His head flips over on the pillow to reveal painfully bloodshot eyes, and he shoves a finger at the hammer in Thor’s hands. “Don’t tell me that was benevolence. He took their lifeforce, held a threat over their heads, and called it peace.”

Swallowing thickly, Thor’s gaze drops to the hammer. His next words are out before he can think better of them.

“And yet I wasn’t the one who tried to destroy their realm.”

Loki falls silent again, gaze burning into Thor’s, glistening, his jaw clenched tight. A vein near his temple bulges, and Thor wishes he could take it back. Wishes Loki hadn’t begged him to fight him, hadn’t let go all those months ago.

“Leave,” Loki chokes.

Thor clears his throat. “I came to tell you that the council has come to a decision on your sentence.”

“Leave,” Loki just says again, gathering the sheets in a shaking fist. “Get out.”

“Stark and the Captain spoke with Midgardian authorities, and they decided you must serve a sentence here before being turned over to Asgard.”

“Just passing me around, are you—”

“You broke the law,” Thor grits out, rising to his feet. “You killed people, you destroyed buildings, you tried to destroy an entire realm—”

“And I killed my true father,” Loki hisses, trying to push himself up on the hospital bed. “I abducted Clint Barton and made him kill for me. I let Jotuns into our palace on your coronation day, knowing they craved blood. I lied to Frigga, I stole the throne, I committed treason, I—”

“Then you see what must be done,” Thor cries, flinging a hand towards him. “You know you’re unstable, you need—you need help!”

“I wake up every single day,” he spits, heaving himself into a sitting position, “disappointed that I’m still breathing. I’ve tried to end it, I’ve tried it myself, I’ve even brought that–that mortal into it, and she couldn’t even kill me.”

“Oh, that’s an entirely different discussion—”

“So what is it?” Hunched forward with his arms hugging his knees, Loki stares at him. Those eyes are empty—Thor hoped to at least see pain in them. “What is my punishment? Am I to be executed, or are we saving that special event for Odin and Frigga?”

“Don’t,” Thor growls. His fist tightens around mjolnir. “They still protected you and raised you as their own. You owe them that much.”

Loki gives a hollow, rattling laugh. “Odin raised me like a prize boar for slaughter. He told me. He wanted to use me to unite our realms. I’m no better than the last empty treaty he wrote.”

“He spoke of us as equals,” Thor quietly argues. “Weren’t you happy? As a child? We...we had fun. I know we did.”

Loki swallows thickly, casting his gaze towards the ceiling.

I know we did. The two of them were inseparable, through every phase of their life. Thor’s friends were Loki’s, and the merry little group had centuries of adventures, victories, parties they shared with him. Frigga and Odin had loved the two of them as their sons, as their sons equally. He knows it.

“Can you even fathom your reality being a lie?”

Thor blinks, wishing Loki would look at him.

“No,” Loki laughs softly, “you can’t.”

Thor stands abruptly, knocking his chair over in the process. “You’ll lead a life of misery and disappointment,” he says, “if you keep thinking the worst of everyone. Especially yourself.”

Loki laughs again—it’s missing all humor. “Oh, fuck off.”

“Fine.” Thor stiffens, his jaw clenched painfully. “On behalf of Midgardian officials, you are sentenced to five years imprisonment and full responsibility for damages caused by your insurrection. After those years, you will return to Asgard with me for your trial.”

“Lovely. Looking forward to it.”

That’s the final straw—that, and how Loki closes his eyes and relaxes back onto his pillow, seemingly unbothered.

Thor surges forward with a snarl and grabs Loki by the shoulders, shoving him back against the pillows.

“You could at least pretend to regret this,” he seethes, giving his brother a good shake. “If you even gave our father half of an apology, an explanation, we could move past this.”

Eyes wide but jaw firmly set, Loki struggles against him, trying to wrench his injured arm from Thor’s grip. “Oh, please,” he grunts, “it’s been nearly a year since I came back from the dead. Neither of my so-called parents have expressed the slightest interest in seeing me.”

Thor’s grip tightens—Loki grits his teeth, biting back a whimper of pain as his fingertips dig into a barely scabbed wound.

“I wanted to apologize to you,” Thor admits, his chest heaving with the effort of holding Loki pinned. “But I don’t know if you even want that. Or deserve it.”

“Let go of me.”

He doesn’t.

Still writhing, Loki’s lips curl back, and he throws his head forward, bracing for the inevitable pain. His forehead hits Thor’s chin with a loud crack, and Thor staggers back with a shout—Loki’s not in much better shape, blinking rapidly to clear the spots that blur his vision.

“Five years,” Loki hisses, “is nothing to you and I.”

“Your true punishment will be from Asgard,” Thor replies harshly, a hand to his jaw as he stumbles towards the door. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

“Well, when we go home,” Loki spits, his hands shaking, “Maybe I’ll burn that place to the ground.”

#loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki imagine #loki slowburn #loki x reader fluff #pre-dating idiots #loki requests #loki tension #loki fanfiction #loki drabbles #loki laufeyson #loki fluff

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noe11egance · 6 months

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"A Night to Remember" A Loki/Fem! Reader Relationship: Asgardian God/Maneater Reader

Summary: The night is young and the jazz music of the bar flows through the windows and onto the evening street. Arriving at the bar, dressed in your favorite evening dress ready for another night of escapism and debauchery. Soon after finishing the first drink of the night, you join the other patrons on the dance floor. Where you find yourself swept off your feet and into the arms of a tall, dark, and handsome stranger. Word Count: 1,352 a/n: In honor of participating in NaNoWriMo and episode 5 of Loki dropping tonight, I bring a short story that I'll definitely plan on adding more to in the future. Chapter 2 of "A God's Favorite Angel" will hopefully be finished soon. Enjoy! Inspired by - "A Night to Remember" by Beabadoobee, Laufey "Haunted" by Laufey Written by noellegance _________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ "A Night to Remember"

The cool evening breeze enters the bar as you open the door. You’ve come alone, in search of a temporary escape for the night. Whether that be at the bar itself, downing your favorite poisons as you forget about your responsibilities or occasionally indulging in intimacy with handsome strangers. You’ve found yourself soon becoming a regular patron, to the point where each of the several bartenders know more about you than just your name.

“Well don’t you look stunning, as always,” the bartender, Damon, greets you with an already prepared drink in hand. “How do you manage to look so beautiful everytime I see you?”

You chuckle at his attempt at flirting with you, but of course you knew he was just messing around. “You know, Damon, you would have better luck trying to earn more tips if you made better drinks.” Lifting the glass to your lips then setting it back down gently. Allowing yourself to think about the taste.

You’ve grown quite critical of the way drinks are prepared. Learning how to discern certain tastes, broadening your palette, finding what works for you and what doesn't. You also learned how to tell when a drink is well made or not.

“Ouch, point taken,” he chuckles. Taking out a rag from his apron that wraps around his waist. Wiping down the counter of any spills. “I’ve got other customers who love my drinks, just so we are clear.”

You quickly throw back the drink down your throat and swallow, “you’re getting better.” Setting the glass down on the bar and standing up. “I am going to dance, let me know if anyone of note comes over. I’m feeling bold tonight.”

“Will do, miss,” he salutes you before grabbing the glass you left on the bar and turns his attention to the other patrons waiting for their orders to be taken.

You decide to try your luck on the dance floor, allowing for the music to flow through you. Like a wave of elation filling your body. Allowing for your legs and arms to guide you through the crowd of patrons who are under the same euphoric trance as you.

You feel a hand gently take yours, spinning you around, and pulling you closer into him. Another hand goes to your waist, a pair of emerald green eyes gazing down into yours.

Without saying even a word, he has captured your attention. At the touch of his hand, you were at his mercy. You dare not say anything so as to not ruin the moment. Your gaze locked with his, unable to break away even if you tried.

He led the dance with grace and dominance. Guiding you along with the hand he has resting gently at your waist. This stranger made your heart race so quickly and you’ve yet to even learn his name.

You have danced with many strangers but none quite compare to him, to the one who raises you just barely off of the ground every few steps. Lifting you as if you weighed nothing more than a feather. You felt like you were flying, gliding through the dance floor. The intensity of the music rises in anticipation, elevating the intimate atmosphere even further.

To you, the world had stopped spinning and everything changed in that moment. Instead of being in the club, you were high above the clouds. The lights turned into the brightest of stars, the musical quartet on the stage transformed into a grand symphony, and the floor beneath you turned non existent.

He kept you in this state of euphoria for what felt like an eternity. But just as soon as you got lost in the presence of the stranger, the quickly you come down from your lavender haze.

The music ending, applause erupting, and the sound of the bar returns you back into reality. You were dumbfounded by the whole experience. The stranger continues to hold you close with a devilish grin plastered on his handsome face.

“You were remarkable, darling,” his voice, rich like a fine red wine with a raspiness to it. His english accent sending you over the edge with blood rushing to your cheeks. Painting your skin with a soft red hue.

“Who are you?” You cannot help but ask, you had to know the person who was able to sweep you off your feet so effortlessly. Both figuratively and literally.

You have kept your heart guarded for such a long time that you forgot what a real connection could truly felt like. Your walls built so high, closing you off from the rest of the world in hopes of keeping your heart safe. You’ve had lovers, many lovers, but you kept them at a distance. As to not risk the pain of another loss.

“I am Loki,” he gently grasps your hand. Raising it to his lips and plants a kiss on your knuckles. “What is your name, darling?”

You tell him your name, your heart continues to race with ardent curiosity of this man. You found yourself focusing all your attention on him. He watched as your eyes travel around his figure, he finds this little action of yours charming.

“I can’t help but notice your eyes cannot seem to find their focus. Is there something that intrigues you, my lady?” He cocks his head to the side with a knowing smirk.

He’s teasing you now. Making you increasingly more flustered. This wasn’t like you, at all, why does he have this much of an effect on you? What makes him so different?

He was a mystery, a handsome, dark, and captivating mystery. There was something about him that attracted to you without fail. But something within you, your intuition, tells, no… it screams that there is something dangerous about him.

Perhaps that was his allure. The fact that this mysterious stranger who effortlessly sent you to heaven and back with just a dance broke down the walls of your meticulously crafted identity.

The music was about to start again, but Loki decides to lead you away from the dance floor and toward the bar. Once the both of you have some privacy away from the bustling bodies of the dance floor, he strikes up conversation once more.

“Your eyes are so expressive, you know.” He raises his hand toward the bartender, Damon, signaling that he is ready to order a drink. “They say the eyes are windows to the soul. I’m beginning to believe them to be right.”

As soon as you see Damon working the bar, you wake up from the trance that you were under and grin. Your gaze meeting with his once again. “Let’s play a game then.” You adjust your body to face him, leaning your side against the bar.

“Oh? A game?” Loki raises his eyebrow. “Go on.”

“You’ve made me quite curious about you, Loki. So how about this, one of us makes a statement about the other. If that statement is true then you have to drink, if it isn’t then the one who asks has to drink.” You cock your head to the side, your confidence returning to you.

Being back at the bar gave you the familiar feeling of being in command. After all, you’ve been here many times before. It was your playground to mess with the other eligible bachalors who happen to catch your eye. You were determined to figure this mystery figure out.

“You’re a fun one, darling. I like that.” He chuckles and adjusts his body to face yours. Mirroring your position and exuding that same confidence. “You have me intrigued.”

“Is that a yes?”

He leans closer to you and with a cocky smirk he replies, “Yes.”

Damon comes over to your side of the bar and delivers both of your drinks of choice. He gives you a knowing look and glances toward Loki. You wink back and he nods, leaving you two alone to go prepare some drinks for the two of you.

You raise your glass and he raises his. “Let the game begin.”

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