#pantswrites

[amandaoftherosemire]

Second Sight -- Part Fifteen

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU/MCU AU

Pairing: Loki Odinson X fem!Reader

Characters: Loki Odinson

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,811

Format: Series WIP

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only, oral sex (m and f receiving), facefucking, intercourse, angst

Summary: The kind of person who likes to keep your head down, you know you’ve made a huge mistake when you lock eyes with the god come to life that had attempted to take over your world. You find out you were right when Loki snatches you off the street. Able to see through his magic no matter what spells he weaves, he first tried to contain you, then to understand you. When he had to leave you, he discovered he was in love with you. Now that he has you back by his side, he'll do what he must to keep you safe.

A/N: I haven't been doing well the past few months, struggling with a dip into depression, burrowing and isolating along with it. But I’m climbing out, and rewriting and editing this chapter felt like a step in the right direction. I won’t make promises I’m not sure I can keep, so I'll stop saying anything about soon, but I am still committed to finishing the story.

<<Part Fourteen here

Second Sight Part Fifteen

You lay on the couch in Loki's study, snuggled into plush cushions and decadent comfort. The furniture in all of Loki's palace was preternaturally comfortable. In what you thought of as the breakfast nook, even the wooden chairs at the table overlooking the shimmering nebula seemed to curve to your form as soon as you sat down. No matter where you sat, or lounged, whatever you reclined upon would itself seem to invite you to relax, the more horizontal furniture suggesting a nap. You had a very hard time refusing that invitation, especially when you were bored.

This minute, bored didn't begin to cover it.

Loki was buzzing around the room, as active as you were lethargic, his new project animating him. The energy wasn't positive, however, but edgy and fretful. He wanted answers, and every denial only heightened his frustration. Every obstruction became fuel for the fire that drove him. You, on the other hand, were half-asleep, a defense mechanism against the crackling shiver his dissatisfaction left in the air. First you tried to escape by reading, but ended up dozing in defiance, a book falling out of one hand and a small cube of metal held tightly in the other, in a fist next to your heart.

"Time," Loki said, seeming to appear out of nowhere, his sudden appearance startling you out of the beginning of a dream. You would have sworn he'd grumbled his way into the next room, but you'd only been half-awake at most and couldn’t be sure you hadn’t slept through his return. Though he could slip in between the shadows when he wanted to disappear from one place and appear in another, his pocket dimension was already between the shadows. He had not yet found the way into the shadows within the shadows, and so could not pop in and out as he did outside of his palace. Surprised, but still too sleepy to react much, you blinked up at him.

Loki had his hand out and his eyes on you, but he wasn’t seeing you, too lost in his own thoughts. In his furrowed brow and far-off gaze, you could see he was distracted by the calculations he was still working in his head. Despite his absent mind, he reeked of impatience as you tried to remember what the two of you were doing. He seemed to seethe for the brief moment it took to shake yourself fully awake.

You lifted your arm, the cube in your hand only a few grams and easily handed over. "Nothing," you said, smothering the indulgent smile that wanted to overtake your face at the sight of him frazzled and on the verge of disheveled, "not even a tingle." At least not from the cube; the look of Loki, on the other hand, had tingles of excitement beginning to ripple through you. Despite that fact, you kept your face neutral and your hand out for the next cube.

"Were you even awake?" Loki replied doubtfully.

"Barely.” You answered the question with a sneer and sigh of irritation. “But I know the difference between dying and dying of boredom.” That your hand was still out made you sniff in impatience, waiting for him to hand you the next.

He raised an eyebrow and dropped an opal matching the ones in the pendant bought on Alfheim into your palm before turning away in a swirl of bad temper. You couldn't explain why, but little revved your engine like seeing him surly and on the verge of mild violence. His temper was in no way directed at you, and somehow the cold sneer of frustration on his face only made him sexier.

Unable to help yourself, you carefully stripped your voice of any emotion but innocent curiosity and asked, "Any progress?" You made sure your expression matched your tone as you carefully prodded at his temper.

As he settled behind his desk and picked up his pen, he shot you a look as vicious as it was arousing. The more he snarled and sneered at you, the more you wanted to push his buttons. If you pushed him far enough, eventually all that frustration would turn into a passion that he would unleash upon you like a storm. You fucking loved it.

Loki's eyes narrowed as he took in your guileless demeanor. You were teasing him, and despite the aggravation climbing from the base of his spine to the nape of his neck, some part of him loved the endless paradox you presented. You sat there, smugly mysterious, no matter what effort he expended to solve the puzzle, or how complete your cooperation. To find his predicament amusing was simply adding insult to injury.

He would always wonder and never understand how you could so consistently set his temper ablaze even as you made him hard as iron. That he could see a twinkle in your eyes telling him that you knew exactly what you were doing made his heart flutter. Nevertheless, the fun of the game was in the playing. His voice cold as the world of his birth, his eyes molten emerald, he replied, "Even the elimination of possibilities is a kind of progress."

You felt like licking your chops, he was so delicious. His hair was mussed, tumbling around his face in defiance of the tie into which he’d pulled it. The slightest of flushes colored his cheeks in the heat of both vexation and desire. You waited until his eyes dropped back to the page in front of him before you spoke, the laugh under your voice almost, but not completely, suppressed. "So, no, then."

Loki’s eyes snapped up to toss a quick glare and snarl your way before immediately turning his attention back to his notes. You snickered, delighted with the progress you'd made in annoying him, and went back to your book. Converting Loki's irritation into desire was a slow, careful process. You decided to back off for the moment to let him simmer down a little before you added more heat to the fire.

Loki stared, unseeing, at the page in front of him, trying and failing to understand this new puzzle. He wasn't really making any progress. The thought struck him that loving you was yet another kind of double-edged sword. The things that made him love you were also the things that made you impossible to decipher. Even with the extra information he had gone back to Alfheim to collect, he still had a mystery on his hands.

On Alfheim, Loki had cornered the merchant that sold him the necklace that had hurt you so, determined to find out how such a harmless looking thing could come so close to incapacitating you. As it happened, he'd had a long list of questions for the being. Not least of which, he wanted to know why the merchant had said nothing about the possibility of harm, though he’d suspected it was because of the illusion that made you appear Asgardian while you were at his side. He couldn’t quash the hope that a being who encountered so many different peoples would give him some kind of lead on why you were so stubbornly magic resistant.

He hadn't told you about the trip before he left, figuring it was better to ask forgiveness than permission for what he might have to do. Really, he'd only had to terrify the merchant a little, had drawn hardly any blood, so even after his return, he'd seen no reason to worry you with the details of the conversation. They'd still been breathing when he'd left, if one counts hyperventilating in fear, and Loki absolutely did.

He knew you would probably be angry at the way he'd threatened them, though, which was why he wasn't telling you. He'd had to be sure that they'd told him the truth, all of it, and that had required more severe tactics than you'd accept. He wondered if he should feel guilty for lying to you about it, but he couldn't work up the energy. He'd told you that the merchant had been easily bribed, and you hadn't inquired further. He saw no reason to worry you with the dirty details, and it wasn't as though you didn't know him to be an unrepentant liar.

Regardless of the ethics of his methods, or your opinion on it, Loki was as close to certain as he could be that the merchant had told him the truth of exactly how and of what the necklace was made. Between the merchant’s dismay that the necklace had harmed you and Loki’s imaginative threats, he was reasonably confident that the merchant had answered all the questions put to them truthfully. Wanting time and space to systematically experiment, he'd dragged you into his pocket dimension to discover the truth. As per usual, when it came to you, the truth was elusive.

Which is how he'd ended up in his study, trying to hurt you to protect you. To prepare for the experiment, he’d dismantled the necklace, noted the component pieces and their amounts. He’d then acquired everything he thought he’d need, created carefully portioned samples to match everything in the necklace. He had to find out if it was some specific substance that was hurting you, or something unique to the necklace that he couldn’t see. Perhaps something that matched what he didn’t see in you.

But experimenting on you to discover what other vulnerabilities you had in addition to those that already tormented him was even worse than he’d imagined. Every time he had to hand you a cube of metal or a gem in the hopes that it would weaken you, his stomach would drop in dread that he was about to hurt you, that you would collapse into that terrifying weakness. Each time you failed to react, his body prickled all over at the knowledge that he would have to keep trying to hurt you.

He tried to focus on his notes, on the next items he'd need you to test, but all he could think about was the close call on Alfheim, all he could see was your sickly face as you'd sagged against him. His eyes were on the cube of Alfheim steel he had to hand you next, but his gaze was on his own terror. He wasn’t sure there was a way to make you safe enough to satisfy him. Still, his heart yearned to balance on the edge of danger with you, to share the shadows with you.

The safest place he could think to take you, and a trifle almost killed you. Loki would laugh if it wasn't so infuriating.

Loki looked up when your shadow fell over him, startled to find you had somehow moved across the room to his side and he hadn't noticed. Your expression serious, your eyes narrowed in concern and the corners of your mouth tight, you raised an eyebrow in question. Loki responded automatically, pushing back from the desk, turning his chair to offer his lap.

As usual, you immediately took advantage of his change in position to slide into his lap, holding out the hand that held the Asgardian opal he'd given you. "This one isn't doing anything, either," you said, as you dropped the jewel onto the desk in disdain when he didn’t immediately take it from you. You slid your hands around his neck and linked them, pouting into his surprised face. "And I'm bored."

While Loki had been brooding, you’d been watching him stare at the book in front of him in dark contemplation. He'd clearly been lost in thought, and those thoughts seemed to torture him. You could see that the challenge wasn't thrilling him in this project, that the lack of progress was discouraging rather than energizing him. Worried by the disheartened look all over him, especially when you’d been trying to rile him up, you’d hatched a plan to pull him out of his black mood.

When the testing period seemed to come and go and he still hadn't looked up from his unseeing stare, you took the opal back to him, determined to distract him from what was bothering him. Just because you couldn’t fix his problems didn’t mean you couldn’t take his mind off them, as well as take your own mind off all the problems you and he created for one another.

You looked over the desk, counted seven more items to test and smiled to yourself. Seven shouldn’t be too much of a challenge, even considering his preternatural control. Holding out your hand, you huffed, eyes sparkling with the thrill of beginning your game. "Gimme the next, then."

Loki leaned back and looked at you where you sat in his lap, suspicion narrowing his eyes when your hips shifted to slide your hip and ass over his groin, blood immediately rushing to the area in response. You shifted again, encouraging his erection, and he could see light come into your eyes and mischief trembling on your lips. "What are you up to?" he asked with an amused drawl and a raised eyebrow as he reached out to snatch up the Alfheim steel.

Your smile spread in wicked glee when he put the cube in your hand. "I'm making this interesting," you replied as you slid from his lap to your knees facing his erection. You placed the hand holding the piece of metal on his knee while your other hand worked at his waistband to bare him to first your gaze and then immediately your touch.

Loki's head fell back with a sigh at the feel of your hand gently circling his length. He smiled at the ceiling, unsure what had brought this on, but hardly interested in protesting when he was the beneficiary. "You have my attention, love," he murmured when he felt your breath on the tip of his cock.

"Good," you replied with a low chuckle, thrilling at the sight of him already giving into you. Your hand softly and slowly twisted around him as you smiled sultrily up at him. He lifted his head to look at you, wicked green eyes watching you with excitement tempered by a wary amusement. Your smile widened in response to the vague suspicion you saw on his face. "Because there are rules."

Loki’s head dropped back down onto the back of his chair as he huffed out a petulant sigh. "I hate rules."

You laughed out loud and placed a gentle kiss at the tip, making his cock jump in your hand. "I know," you purred, smug that you could have him breathing faster so quickly. He looked back at you, unable to resist watching you pleasure him. The sight of you kneeling of your own volition at his feet brought him more satisfaction than any other offered supplication of his life. "That's why rule one is if you break any other rules, we trade places."

"I accept rule one," Loki replied, grinning down at you. You laughed up at him, unsurprised by his ready agreement. You both knew Loki didn't follow the rules when there were negative consequences; this first rule was tantamount to inciting rebellion.

You bent to place your mouth back on the tip of his cock, your tongue flicking out to taste him, your eyes falling shut as you closed your mouth around the very tip. His eyelids fluttered in response to the feeling and he groaned in his throat as he watched you take him a little further into your mouth. At the sound, your gaze lifted to his, burning excitement incinerating you both. "The next rule is that you can't come until you're done testing what you have on your desk."

You whispered the words against the soft skin beneath your lips before fully closing your mouth around the head of Loki's cock and sucking gently. The wondering sigh of pleasure that escaped his lips made you shudder with lust, your own heart speeding with excitement. Stoking his desire always inspired in you an equally powerful need, the two of you alike in that way. Making the other moan and quake and beg was something you both found unbearably exciting.

You lifted away from him for a moment to speak, but your hand moved with purpose as you twisted it up and down his length, spreading your saliva over him and making him shudder out a breath. "Last rule is,” you gasped, your breath already coming fast and shallow, “I only stop if the something in my hand feels different." When Loki snickered and reached down to brush his thumb over your cheek, you shot him one last wicked grin, and bent to the challenge you'd set yourself.

You wanted to make Loki come before he finished his test. You loved taking control, making him lose his. The exhilaration you felt that you could, that he trusted you enough to turn himself over to you, was as glorious as any you’d found with him. Maybe it was cheating to expect him to realize he was still in charge of the testing, but you couldn’t keep track of everything. Besides, he was supposed to be preternaturally clever; you assumed he could figure it out.

Still, you were enjoying yourself nearly as much as he was, though his hums and purrs of pleasure made clear he was especially lost. While the current sample remained in your palm, you didn’t see any reason to rush. You held his cock in the hand not resting on his knee while you placed sucking open-mouthed kisses slowly down his length. Your eyes never left his burning stare as he watched you place the flat of your tongue against the back of him, lingering as you dragged it up his length.

When you got back to the head, you took him back into your mouth. Before you closed your eyes and sucked him deep, you raised your brows and tilted your head towards the hand that still rested on his knee. In the next moment, you slid your mouth down and over him, relishing the sensation of smooth skin covering steel. Loki cursed and you chuckled around him when you felt the other steel in your hand disappear to be replaced by a larger sample of metal. When it, too, had no effect, you focused on driving Loki out of his mind.

"Oh, love," Loki moaned, already half wild as his head tilted back in bliss. He loved the touch of your hand, the feeling of your mouth moving over him with teasing gentleness. His hips were trying to move but he held himself back, trying to keep command of himself. He couldn’t control both his hips and his breath, which shuddered out in rapture. "Your mouth is magic."

You hummed happily, the corners of your lips stretching in a smile around him even as your mouth began to move over him a little more quickly, a little more firmly, taking him a little deeper. Your hand wasn't still either, working up and down along with your mouth to push him higher. You hadn’t considered when you started this challenge that you’d tied one hand behind your back, so to speak. You were used to touching him more, had to get creative.

Loki's hands left the arms of the chair where he'd had a white-knuckled grip, holding on to his control. Lost in the feeling of you sucking him into your warm, soft mouth, his hands reached for you, cupping your cheeks to tilt your head toward him. When your eyes fluttered open to burn into his, he couldn't help the tiny thrust of his hips into your mouth.

You'd taken him deeper than ever before when you chuckled in response and the feeling of your laughter around his cock had his eyes blurring. He was doing everything in his power to hold back his climax, even if he could remember exactly why when your mouth and throat and hand were so diabolically working him toward ecstasy.

Despite how much he loved to watch you please him this way, his eye was drawn to the wiggle of your fingers around the cube sitting on the hand you hadn't moved from his leg. He could barely concentrate, the swirl of your tongue around the head of his cock destroying his mind, but he snatched up the metal in your hand and dropped it on the desk on his way to grabbing the next sample and giving it to you.

Loki forced himself to focus on control, determined to hold back until you had the second to last of the test materials in your hand. He wasn't going to leave you unsatisfied at the end of this. Even if he didn't love using his mouth to bring you to sobbing pleasure, he'd still want to show his appreciation for you. He’d been losing himself in the future and you’d brought him back to the only thing that mattered, the glorious now he was sharing with you.

Focusing on control, however, meant concentrating on you and what you were doing to him. You wanted to win, and you were doing everything in your power to drag him to the edge. The longer he held out against the diabolical things you were doing to him with your mouth and hand, the closer he came to delirium. The desperate need had teeth clamped around the base of his spine; only the strict grip he had on his body was stopping him from fucking your lovely face.

By the time he dropped the sixth item into your palm, he was sweating and on the edge of begging or taking, he didn’t know which. You had done everything you could think of, had whipped out every strategy you’d ever heard of, had exploited every weakness you knew, to push Loki to this point. His hands wrapped around your upper arms, his grip tight almost to the point of pain but an exhilarating kind. The kind that made your heart race and your blood boil.

"My love," he growled when you moaned long and low, in an almost whimper, in response to another of those little thrusts that he couldn't always control. His hands held you in place to rock exceedingly gently over your tongue. "I'm about to come down your lovely throat."

You moaned again, moving faster, insanely aroused at both his control and every little sign of its loss. To your shock, Loki was suddenly standing, the chair sliding out and away from him as he came to his feet in an almost violent burst of movement. His hands were on each side of your head in the next moment and you were dropping the cube in your hand to brace yourself on his thighs.

"I need to--," Loki cut himself off with another purr of pleasure as he began to slowly, easily rock himself in and out of your mouth. "Pinch me if you want me to stop. I swear I'll stop if you want me to…" he trailed off when you gripped his thighs and shifted to allow his cock to glide more easily over your tongue.

His head fell forward on his neck to look into your glowing eyes when he felt your hands moving to encourage his thrusts into your mouth. He didn't know how you managed to forever surprise him, but as he fucked your mouth with faster, rougher thrusts, you welcomed each as you stared with burning eyes into his.

Those burning eyes started to water as he pushed his cock more deeply into your throat, but you didn't retreat, wanting to feel everything, wanting to give everything, wanting to take everything. When a single tear fell down your cheek, you pushed yourself forward to meet Loki's thrusts and it was all he could take. At every line, every boundary, you always danced with him along the knife edge of anything and for someone like him, nothing in the universe could compare.

With a stuttering groan of your name, Loki slammed himself deep into your mouth, the long wait, the aching teasing before the rough loving finally wearing through the last frayed thread of his control. For the first time in what might have been centuries, Loki’s mind went blank. He could barely hear your pleading cry of desire, surrender, the tip of his cock choking you as he did as he'd warned and came down your throat. You swallowed and swallowed, your body wracked with arousal as you savored the knowledge that you'd made him lose control.

Loki looked down at you, his hands still holding your face, his thumb catching a small drop that had escaped the corner of your mouth. You turned your face a little to take his thumb in your mouth and suck the last drop from it. The sight had him shuddering with fresh desire as his hands left your face to grip your shoulders and pull you to your feet.

Before you could blink, you were sitting in the chair, and Loki was kneeling at your feet, pushing your skirt over your knees. He picked up the sixth sample from where it had fallen to the floor and threw it to the desk. Picking up the last, he turned back to place it in your hand. The next thing you knew, Loki was spreading your legs and hooking them over the arms of the chair to give him an unimpeded view of and access to the core of your body.

Loki flashed you a wicked grin before bending close to run his fingers over your folds and whisper, his breath brushing your overheated flesh, "Rules are rules, my love."

A long time later, you and Loki lay curled on his study floor, naked and satisfied. Loki had thoroughly loved you with mouth and hands, bringing you to the edge of orgasm over and over until you’d begged for mercy. When he’d ultimately given in to your sobbing demands, the climax that took you was the most powerful of your life, leaving you boneless and breathless, draped across another of his high-backed leather thrones.

When he’d risen over you like the pagan god he was, your thighs had trembled, in trepidation or anticipation even you couldn’t be sure. He’d cooed to you then, in love and praise, before arranging you to his liking and sliding the iron bar of his erection inside you. You'd been sure your body couldn't climb to yet another peak, but he'd wrapped one arm around your back and cradled the back of your head in his palm to tilt your head for his kisses. With his other hand, he’d taken a hold of the back of the chair in a crushing grip and used it as leverage to pound into you. The burning focus of his eyes and the wild abandon of his surging body was something you rarely saw him indulge and never tired of witnessing.

By the time he came inside you with a roar, he'd pushed you up and over twice more.

You were deeply grateful to be done with the testing, at least for now, because you were completely exhausted. You wanted a bath, a snack, and a nap, in that order. As soon as you could find the energy to get off the floor, you were going to drag Loki off for all three.

"Did you drop either of the last two because they felt odd?" The two of you had been sharing a companionable quiet in the aftermath of so much passion when Loki's voice gently broke the silence.

"No," you murmured against his skin, smiling slightly at his ability to immediately get back on task after being diverted. You didn’t move your face from where it was pressed against his chest but snuggled into the arm he’d snaked around you to hold you tightly to him. "Nothing today felt like the necklace did.”

Loki sighed, and you heard the frustration in the sound, though his words had a sexy, teasing cadence. Though you’d managed to thoroughly distract him from his dark musings, the troubles that followed you both couldn’t be so easily dodged. "You know that means more tests."

You sighed in resignation, though the secret romantic voice in your mind sighed at the undercurrent of devotion. You knew he wouldn't stop, because despite his recklessness, he wouldn't be careless with your safety. A thought dug into your brain like a tick that he may never be fully content with your protection. You knew how your human frailty distressed him. Still, the testing may have been boring, but you didn’t mind too much, not now that you’d found a game to keep you both occupied in the meantime.

"Then I guess I better hydrate."

Part Sixteen here>>

Taglist:

@hellzzzbelle @cheekygeek05 @lbouvet @diinofayce @bibliophile1773 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @miraclesoflove @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @destiel-is--endgame @irritated-bisexual @peaceinourtime82 @badassbaker @walkingtravesty97 @fashionworld12 @readermia @fukyouthink @felicityofbakerstreet @lumar014ad @thedistractedagglomeration

#loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki smut #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #pantswrites #second sight #series wip

[amandaoftherosemire]

Genghis Khan -- Part Two

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU/MCU AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X fem!Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6393

Format: Two-Part One-Shot (Complete)

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only, sexual intercourse, possessiveness, angst, fluff, language.

Summary: You and Bucky are neighbors and friends-with-benefits. Neither of you like the arrangement, but neither of you are willing to risk ruining it to ask for more. One night, you both get pushed to your limits.

A/N: Hooray! I got this out in a reasonable amount of time! I know I said soon, but I say a lot of things. Not because I am a liar, but because I am an optimist. I am always hoping that this will be the time that I’m not going to make myself a liar. And this was it! We did it! Enjoy!

<<Part One here

Genghis Khan Part Two

 “Damn right you are.”

Bucky's heart was pounding in dread and excitement, in violent anticipation and deathly fear. Your agreement sent shudders of relief running through him, weakening his knees just as he reached the edge of your bed. He bent to place you in the middle of the mattress, stretching out on top of you at the same time.

He braced himself on his vibranium elbow as his other hand gripped the back of your thigh to spread your legs for his gently undulating hips. He buried his face in your throat to close his mouth over the sensitive skin under your ear, desperate for the taste of you on his lips. When you arched into his mouth with a low moan, it made him shudder with the stifled urge to lose control, the need to ravish your body with his own.

When he'd knocked on your door, he'd had no idea what he was doing. He'd known it was dangerous to confront you when in such a wild and reckless mood. He felt possessive, jealous, and he knew that he needed to stay away from you until he could tamp it back down. Despite all he knew, he couldn’t help himself, needed to have it out with you with no filters. He'd been unable to stop himself from demanding answers, damn the consequences.

The honesty with which you'd answered, the emotion quivering at your mouth as you'd done so had nearly brought him to his knees. Your refusal would have been literally painful, but he would have understood. Your acceptance had been so sultry and soft, he'd been unable to keep his hands to himself. Whatever his intentions, he always found himself circling back to you, bound by what was between you.

Bucky finally had to admit that his every attempt to keep you at a distance had been a complete and utter failure. He was hung up on you, too, and he knew he needed to tell you that, but when you'd opened the door looking like an angel, any intention toward conversation had gone up in a puff of smoke, incinerated by desire. He'd wanted to assure you that all that stood between you was his own fears and insecurities, but the look on your face had left him stunned and weak, unable to form the words.

Now that he was sinking into the softness of your bed, the softness of you, his heart rose to his lips and tumbled out in soft sighs of adoration as his lips brushed over your shoulders, nudging the straps of your dress aside. If this was what it was to be vulnerable, it was worth the risk. "Beautiful," he whispered, a moan in his throat, as he pressed open mouthed kisses to your collarbones.

Your arms moved to slide up under his shirt, around the barrel of his chest, lost in the feeling of Bucky's mouth worshipping your skin, making you feel like affection was seeping beneath the surface and spreading through you in a warm wave. He’d always made you feel wanted, desired, but never like this. He’d never given you the soft and sweet the way he was now, even as his hands pressed and gripped with a greed you’d never felt from him before. You shivered when you heard him whisper, his voice sweet and smooth as honey as his words spilled over you.

"I hated the idea of you inviting him in," he murmured as you dragged his shirt upwards, trying to get him naked as quickly as possible. His relentlessly rocking hips were driving you crazy, made you need to feel more of him. "Hated that I don't have the right to hate anything you do."

The growl in his tone was dark, almost angry. Something primal inside you growled in response and your hands grew even more frantic as they raced over him, pushing at his shirt, the waistband of his jeans. Regardless of the black mood that spurred his words, you couldn’t help but thrill at the avarice underneath them.

In a move so quick and easy it made you blink, he'd lifted up so that the tight grip of your thighs around his hips tugged at his jeans around his hips. He yanked his shirt impatiently over his head and toed his boots off while you yanked at the button fly of his jeans. When he came back down, you discovered that he wasn’t wearing anything beneath his jeans when his bare cock slid against the damp silk at the apex of your thighs.

He had only gotten harder as you'd frantically pushed his jeans down over his hips to bare him to your gaze, your touch. Pressing his body to yours, he took your mouth in a rough yet tender kiss as his cock went from rock hard to diamond, the electricity of every touch arcing through both of you from every place your bodies touched. The feeling of him sliding against your clit through your almost embarrassingly wet underwear added another layer of frantic desire and had you moaning together.

His hands fumbled at your waist and hips to drag at the scrap of fabric there, eventually giving into frustration and tearing it away. Your body quaked in reaction, pure lust washing through you as you watched his hands close around your thighs so that he could spread you open and bathe in the wetness his hands, his mouth, his body had brought forth. Your head fell back on your neck as you whimpered in need.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, the hoarse sound rasping lusciously over your eardrums and sending shivers through you as his hand slid up your side, searching for the zipper he'd seen under your arm. "I'll pay for those." He leaned close to breathe the words into your ear even as his vibranium arm slid beneath your shoulders, his hand dipping beneath your dress to deftly unsnap your bra as he went. Your thighs tightened around his waist when his other hand, having found and vanquished the zipper, pulled at your dress, discarding your bra, until you were bared to the waist. With a purr of pleasure, he palmed your breast, squeezing and kneading as his mouth continued to move gently over your skin.

This wasn’t the first time he'd torn your clothes off, nor the first time he'd expressed remorse for doing so, but you loved it when he did things like that, whether you should or not. Maybe you’d feel differently if he’d ever touched you with anything resembling violence, but only passion could occasionally push him into any kind of wanton destruction, and that only against your clothing. You knew who he was, what he’d been, but you did not, could not fear him.

You stretched your neck to give him better access to your throat, arching your chest to press your breast more fully into his hand, flexed your thighs to meet every gentle thrust against your clit with one of your own, dragging him through your folds. You wanted more, wanted to feel him all over you. For the first time, it felt like he had opened up and you wanted to bathe in all the passion flooding over you.

Bucky had never felt so out of control and yet so at peace with it. You were out of control with him, and that was all that mattered. His eyes narrowed on yours as he lost himself in you. He couldn't get enough, dipped his head further to the breast he wasn't already teasing. He took your nipple in his mouth and began to suck in the same rolling rhythm as his hips and the sensation had your hands scrabbling at his back for purchase as you pressed yourself up and into him as much as you could, wrapped in his powerful body.

You were getting hotter with every second in his arms, but there was something about this moment that left you unguarded in a way you'd never been before. With a growl, your hands dove into his hair, pulling him gently but firmly away so you could look into his face in the dim light coming in through the curtains from the street.

Bucky could only watch in awe as your arms fell to your sides and you braced yourself as your legs tightened around him, tilting your hips. To his surprise, he was suddenly pressing against your entrance and your diabolical thighs were tightening to take him inside you. Arching, you thrust yourself onto him, panting in desire, eyes glittering on his as you began to rock gently, inviting him to slide deeper.

Shocked, but hardly displeased, Bucky found the fire of your passion arousing beyond anything he'd ever known before. His eyes were locked onto your face, and the carnal look there had his hips shifting downward to press his cock more deeply into you. You bit your lower lip as he slipped deep and the sight, the sensation, had him shuddering. He dipped his head as he held still to pant and pray for the strength to resist the siren song your body sang, at least until you’d sang in pleasure first. When he thought he’d pulled himself back from the precipice, he gave a little testing thrust that made you purr and forced a groan from deep in his throat.

Finding his mouth only a breath from yours, he closed the gap. As his tongue slid between your lips, you whimpered softly. The sound made him feel a strange combination of feral need and infinite tenderness and he thrust gently to see if he could make you do it again.

The sensation of his cock, rubbing gently deep inside you even as his teeth were scraping over your lower lip, had you shuddering out a sigh of pleasure. Everything seemed both slow and dreamy and yet painfully real and intense.

Bucky devoured your mouth with a tender voracity that had you wrapping your arms and legs around him in desperate need as he pulled slowly out, enjoying every dragging inch. When he slid back into silk and wet, he thought the pleasure would destroy him. You felt covered by him, surrounded by him, filled by him, the feeling so lovely you hummed with the warm bliss of it.

He knew he had only himself to blame for the hard distinction between friend and sometime lover that defined your relationship, but all of a sudden he couldn't stand it anymore. "God, babygirl," he growled as he broke the kiss to drag in air. Your eyes widened in surprise when he took your hands in his and pressed them into the bed next to your head, his elbows outside yours. His body enclosed you as he bent close, nose to nose, his eyes bright and fierce. "How do you do this to me?"

Your breath caught when he started to move more quickly inside you, his eyes still burning into yours, his gaze devouring your face. You were shocked to see that the wall he'd put between you was down and he was showing you everything that had been beneath his studied indifference.

"Bucky," you gasped, the sensation of his body petting yours both inside and out making you breathless with pleasure, despite your confusion, "I'm not trying to hurt you."

Bucky stopped moving at the sound of your voice, pain under the baffled tones making his heart throb in response. His hand moved from its place next to your head to brush his thumb over your cheek to wipe away the trail of the single tear that had fallen down your temple.

“I’m crazy about you, doll,” he murmured, his heart in his throat. “But I’m not safe, and I’m afraid I’ll hurt someone, or you, because you make me crazy.” He hadn’t meant to say it that baldly, but the darkly possessive part of him that existed whether he would or not was in charge right now.

At last, your heart called out, understanding relaxing your muscles and your mind. Instead of letting him surround you, you slipped your arms around his neck, your limbs a twining squeeze, your body caressing him as your hips rocked slowly and deliberately up into his. The honest admission allowed you to let the rest of your questions go, for the moment. He was as lost and confused by this as you were. You could lay back and enjoy being lost in feeling with him in the light of that.

Bucky had admitted to feelings for you. What happened next could wait until you'd dealt with the fire in your body threatening to drive you mad. "Okay," you murmured as you lifted your head to suck soft kisses into the skin of his throat. “Crazy’s okay.”

Bucky couldn't think straight when you touched him like this, all softness and honey. You seemed always able to draw him in, down into a place of dark pleasure and soft torment. Your hands dove into his hair, tugging gently, or skimmed over his back and arms, nails digging in just enough to leave a prickle of sensation. Your thighs tightened rhythmically, lifting your hips to meet his with each thrust.

He caught your eye, watched your face as the tempo of his thrusts increased, your hips moving faster to match him. Pleasure-soaked wonder chased sorrow across your face. Bucky didn't know how, in the moment, to take away the sorrow, though he wanted to do so with all of his heart. As he couldn't relieve it, he shoved forward and up, seeking a new angle with which to drown your sorrow in ecstasy.

Bucky slid one arm beneath your hips and the other beneath your shoulders as he shifted until his knees were under him. At this angle, and with this leverage, he could thrust both deeper and harder. "Crazy’s okay?" he muttered even as his head dipped to sink his teeth into your shoulder in irritated lust.

You laughed, losing your focus in the feeling of being held so tightly against him. His arms were uncompromising bands around you, holding you in place for every brush of his body against yours, every surge of his hips between your thighs. You were wrapped around him like a vine, meeting every thrust with ever-increasing force as you climbed rapidly to peak.

“Just please don’t stop,” you moaned, the tiny warm shivers heralding your impending orgasm. Between the even friction of Bucky’s pelvic bone against your clit and the delicious rubbing of his dick deep inside you, climax was inevitable as long as he kept doing exactly the same thing.

Bucky kept moving at the same force and speed despite his own body urging him to pound into you. Experience had taught him to take you literally in your commands. He was almost immediately rewarded for his restraint when you started to shiver and cling to him while you whimpered in your throat as soft waves of pleasure began to shudder through you.

As your limbs twined around him and squeezed, Bucky kept moving, watching the pleasure move over your face. This was always his favorite part of making love to you, the part where your body took over and molded itself to his in ecstasy. He never felt closer, like he was seeing all of you, than when he looked into your eyes as they blurred and fluttered closed as your climax took you.

When your body went limp in his arms, whimpers for mercy escaping your lips, something primal reached up from the depths of his mind and grabbed him by the throat. With a growl, he loosened his tight grip around your body and gently let you fall to the bed. He lifted up onto his knees, sitting back on his heels, his torso a smooth curve of movement as he sat up. The sight inexplicably sent you right back into wanting him, your core clenching despite the waves of your climax still shimmering through you.

Bucky’s hands were eminently gentle, if inexorable, as they closed around your hips and flipped you with an alacrity and speed you found astounding. Once you were on your stomach, those demanding hands pulled your dress from where it bunched around your waist, down your body and onto the floor. He kicked his jeans all the way off and pulled your hips up so that you were on your knees as he positioned himself behind you. In no way averse to this particular turn of events, you braced yourself on your elbows and clenched your hands in the sheets, knowing from experience that you were about to really enjoy yourself.

A low rumbling growl came from deep in Bucky’s throat as he drank in the sight of you, on your knees, braced and ready for him. He loved seeing you like this, loved that you trusted him with your body completely. He placed the tip of his cock at your entrance, still holding your hips, and watched as he slid easily inside you. He never tired of watching himself join with you, a singular pleasure that gratified something both soft and sexual inside him. Being allowed to be with you like this was more vital to him than he'd realized, the connection more important than he'd wanted to admit. The fear of vulnerability couldn’t counteract the simple satisfaction, however, and he reveled in the sight of that union.

Bucky pulled out slowly, enjoying the gentle rasp of his cock against your walls as he withdrew. You responded by shuddering with pleasure, a ripple of sensation around him that incentivized him to take his time. Wanting to feel more of your skin, he leaned over so that his chest was brushing against your back and his hand was reaching under you to cup your breast. His other arm slid, cool and solid, beneath your hips, right where you were bent at a right angle to receive the hypnotic rocking of his hips against your ass, his cock rubbing deliciously inside you.

"I get primitive about you, can’t help it." His voice was a low rumble as he nuzzled the back of your neck. The way his body was wrapping around you, the feeling of his breath on your skin, the relentless rhythm of his digging hips made you feel like he was surrounding you, filling you, destroying you.

Bucky's teeth closed around the cord of muscle between your shoulder and your neck, squeezing gently. You moaned out loud at the feeling, the slight prickle of his teeth sending shivers over your skin to meet the shudders he was evoking with his fingers plucking at your nipples. "Like that," he murmured against your skin, thrusting in a little harder, a little deeper. "Make that sound again. It makes me crazy."

You laughed, low and breathless as you stretched up into him, pushing back against him as much as you could inside the circle of his body. The sultry sound, along with the soft give and tight clench of your body, made him groan low in his throat and press deep. You responded with another soft moan, the kind that haunted his dreams, and the sound seemed to shoot straight to his stomach. His muscles locked down in response so that he wouldn't let go too soon but resisting the allure of your body was a battle.

You felt him go rigid around you and recognized one of the signals that he'd been pushed over the edge into need, rather than just want. Sometimes the heat between you became something more, something electric, like when lightning follows a volcanic eruption. That eruption was always preceded by this absolute stillness, and when he froze for a moment around you, inside you, the muscles of your thighs flexed in preparation, in anticipation.

Cool air sent goosebumps over your skin as his chest left the skin of your back bare when he straightened behind you. His hands closed around your hips in a tight grip, and you fell to your elbows to lower your head and pant as he slowly pulled himself almost entirely from your body.

The eruption blew through you when his hips started to slam into you. In contrast to the slow, methodical rhythm he'd stuck to until the feeling of your body, the sound of your pleasure had gone to his head, he was now pounding into you with abandon. Fast and hard enough to send crackles of electricity through your whole body with every thrust, he fucked you relentlessly, driving cries of need from your throat.

Bucky loved this moment with you, when everything else, past, present, and future, fell away and there was nothing left but you and him in a timeless moment. The arc of your body spread out on your knees before him was deliciously sexy. The position had the added bonus of keeping him from your all-too-perceptive eyes. He was too afraid that the joy he felt in the feeling of you coming around him would give away how deep his emotions truly ran.

But your voice was calling out his name, pleading for more, demanding satisfaction. Your body was clenching and rippling around him, insisting that he give in and join you in your tumble into ecstasy. Whether you knew it or not, he was yours for the taking; he could not deny you anything.

Still, he had intended to ease back rather than chase his own climax when he felt your hips shift under his hands. In the next moment, you had readjusted your leverage and were pushing back into him with the same relentless force and speed that he'd been driving into you. Pleasure grew teeth and clamped into his spine as he lost the rhythm and came inside you with a shuddering groan and stuttering hips.

When Bucky's moan blended with yours, the quakes rocking through you only increased in intensity. You sobbed with sensation when you felt his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips and ass to thrust as deeply and hold you as tightly as possible. It was a rare thing to make him lose even an iota of control, and the surprise you could hear under the moan told you he hadn't been done when he'd finished. You smiled into the sheets even as you waited for the tremors of your own climax to fade.

He made a sound halfway between a purr and a rumble even as his hands skimmed over your back and ass, thighs and belly as he bent close to press appreciative kisses in between your shoulder blades. The two of you slowly fell into a heap, his arms still wrapped around you as he kept you spooned together even as your bodies naturally separated.

No matter how many times you'd engaged in this activity, he'd never held you like this after. He hadn't been cold, but he had always remained deliberately casual. You weren't really certain what to make of this tenderness. His arms felt like rapture, however, the press of his body against yours a joy, and you had no willpower to remove yourself.

Bucky shifted slowly, easing the both of you onto your sides with his vibranium arm underneath the pillow where your head rested. His other arm curled around your waist to snug you firmly against his body. You felt wrapped in him, cradled by him, and it felt like a warm and generous heaven.

You felt yourself getting drowsy, tempted to fall into the deep slumber that called to you now that both your body and heart felt satisfied, safe in the circle of his body. Unable to face the prospect of waking up alone without any more understanding than you had in this moment, however, you forced yourself to burst the contented bubble that had encircled your bed.

"What was all that jealous shit about?" Your voice was gentle, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere, but needing to have this out, once and for all. The words he'd poured over you when he'd first walked in and taken you in his arms had stuck inside your mind. They'd been pushed to the side in the tide of pleasure, but now that your skin was cooling and your breathing had returned to normal, all the questions you'd ignored were making themselves known.

Bucky was more relaxed than he could remember being in longer than he'd care to examine. The softness of your bed didn't seem to bother him when he also had the softness of your body caressing his where he'd wrapped himself around you. He had been hovering somewhere between awake and asleep when you spoke and responded with a drowsy, "Hmm?"

"All that shit when you first came in," your voice stayed calm and quiet, but you had no intention of letting this go, "about not wanting me to go out with other people and wanting to hunt down anyone who's ever touched me. That shit."

The length of the following pause may have driven you insane if it hadn't been accompanied by the gentle but firm tightening of his arm around your waist, the way his body seemed to curve even more firmly around you. When he finally spoke, his lips rested against the back of your shoulder and their brushing movement sent shivers through you.

"I'm not rational about you, doll. I…" The warm purr of his voice trailed off, leaving you waiting with ever-increasing impatience as he remained silent. You couldn't tell if he was done, or if he was still thinking about what he wanted to say.

You considered rolling over so that you could see his face, but you weren't sure you had the courage to ask for the answers you needed if you had to look into those guarded, tired eyes. "So this isn't just sex for you?" You were able to control the volume of your voice, able to stay calm, but the ache underneath was crystal clear. "You have feelings?"

You closed your eyes, afraid that your heart, so defenseless out there on your sleeve, was about to be crushed by the kindness of a friend who wanted nothing more. Still, you'd reached your limit, could no longer pretend that you could maintain the careful separation between friends and lovers without damage.

"Too many feelings," Bucky answered in a murmur. Feeling your breath release in a sigh of relief, he realized you'd been holding it in. He'd thought you'd known how highly he thought of you, would understand that his reticence was due to his own fears. It had never occurred to him that you wouldn’t know how much he adored you. "I almost threw that guy out the window tonight.”

The jealous growl of displeasure in his voice rumbled through you and inexplicably made your body tighten in desire. He didn't sound angry, or violent, and so you felt no fear or discomfort at the sound.

“His name is Neil," you retorted, snotty and superior. You felt Bucky's lips curve in a smile against your skin and the sensation encouraged you to keep going. "And you didn't almost do shit. You skulked around the stairwell to eavesdrop like a creep and then knocked on my door to grovel.”

You snuggled back into his arms, feeling the same relaxation that had brought Bucky to the brink of sleep before you'd started this conversation. Now that you knew that there was something to discuss, that there was some emotion here to unravel, you could take your time in doing so. You simply couldn’t stand the uncertainty anymore.

“I wanted to murder him." Bucky was incredulous at how serene you seemed despite his confession. You never reacted to anything the way he expected, always took the things he struggled with in stride. "Why doesn’t that worry you?”

To Bucky's shock, your body softened fully against him, and your voice sounded almost bored when you answered his question with one of your own. “Why should it? You didn't murder him." You shifted your head slightly to peer awkwardly over your shoulder with the mildest of suspicion. "Haven't murdered anyone recently, right?”

“No, but--," Bucky's voice betrayed the confusion your matter-of-fact questions had inspired, but he shook it off quickly and went back to trying to warn you. "I was a weapon, y/n. I'm still trying to figure out what I am now.”

You'd heard this empty tone from him before, whenever you'd poked around the edges of his past. You'd been careful up to this point to treat the subject with kid gloves, not wanting to cause pain or distress. By now, though, you had run out of the energy you needed to tread quite so carefully. You had to speak your mind. “Was a weapon," you retorted wryly. "Is that why you run hot and cold? You're afraid of yourself and you think I should be too?" Your voice was mild, not a trace of resentment or anger, which is why you were surprised when he didn't respond.

After the longest pause yet, you gave into the urge that had been riding you since the beginning of this conversation. This was the closest you'd gotten to real answers, and you wanted desperately to see the look on his face, wanted that extra bit of information to make sense of all of this. Unable to resist any longer, you moved to roll over without leaving Bucky's embrace. His arms loosened to give you room to move, but once you were nose to nose with him, your legs tangling with his, his arm draped itself back over you to pull you close once again.

The sensation of his body enfolding you, the warmth and tenderness with which he held you made it impossible to even imagine being frightened of him. Whatever he'd done before, whatever violence still lived within him, you felt in your soul that you were safe with him, in every way. Your eyes devoured his face, searching the carefully blank expression there for some clue as to what he was thinking.

"Bucky, if you want me to be afraid of you, you're gonna have to make me."

You murmured the words seriously, but Bucky could hear the lightest of teasing underneath your tone. His heart throbbed in reaction, adoring the warmth you showed him so easily, but his face fell into a scowl. "I don't want you to be afraid of me." In fact, he hated the idea, would do whatever it took to make certain he never gave you a reason to fear him. "I don't want to hurt you," he murmured, his voice soft and lost.

"What do you want?" You spoke softly, calmly, afraid to push too much and have him shut down again. He'd been more honest about his feelings tonight than the entire rest of your friendship combined. You were hoping that he was ready to tell you the truth. You needed to know, so that you could make yourself finally decide what to do.

"You." He breathed the word as he took your mouth in a kiss both deep and passionate, but different in character to any other kiss he'd ever given you. This kiss wasn't new in its searing heat, or its desperate need, but it was extraordinary in its sweet tenderness. His lips clung to yours gently, his tongue tangling with yours in soft caresses.

You kissed him back, all your shields down for the first time. Your mouth met his with open devotion, unable to disguise it when he was being so warmly affectionate, so candid in his feeling. You wanted him, had wanted him for months. If there was a chance for more, you were willing to risk nearly anything for it.

He pulled his mouth from yours

"Y/n…" Your name fell from his lips in a rasp of hope, then trailed off at the sight of your lips swollen from his, parted to let gasps of need in and pants of excitement out. His hand came up cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip and causing a shuddering sigh to escape you. He wasn't surprised that he was already hard again. He always wanted you more, again. Only the coming dawn had ever chased him from your bed, full satisfaction always out of reach. "What do you want?"

Though you loved his honesty, you didn't love that it obligated you to return it. As much as you wanted to hide, you felt like this was your chance to reach out and grab what you wanted; you simply had to have the courage to tell him the truth of how you felt, as he had done. "I want you to stay until morning." Your voice was a breath of sound, afraid to speak too loudly and startle the woodland creature that you'd convinced to sniff your hand. You didn't want to scare him off. "I want you to care," you gave him a wry half-grin to take the sting out of it, "at least a little."

"I care way more than I'm used to, doll." His arms tightened around you and an exhilarated thrill ran through you at the growl of frustrated desire in his voice. He paused a moment, searching your face. You wondered what he was looking for even as you looked back at him, used to his habit of pausing to consider his words. You knew that he simply needed another moment by the tension in his mouth and patiently waited for him to finish his thought.

Bucky stared into your gentle eyes, wondering if he could resist the tenderness in your face, in your touch, if he even really wanted to. His voice gruff, he told you the truth. "I have nightmares. I'm afraid I'll hurt you in my sleep."

He'd dropped his eyes to your mouth when he made his admission, so he didn't see your eyes soften with the compassion that welled up in you at the admission. You melted like butter in the sun, but still needed to ask basic safety questions.

You kept your voice soft and calm as you asked, "Have you hurt someone else, broken anything?"

"No," Bucky frowned, realizing that he hadn't damaged anything in his sleep since before Wakanda, wondered if Shuri had done even more for him than he'd known, "but I haven't slept next to anyone since…"

Bucky trailed off, realizing he hadn't slept next to anyone in a very long time, that it was the intimacy of doing so that had given the final push each time he'd left your bed before morning came. He didn't want to leave, wanted to sleep with you in his arms, wanted to wake next to you, your face the first thing he would see. All he had to do was take the chance.

You saw him search your face, waited again for him to either keep talking or decide he was done. His eyes warmed with his small, but very real smile, and you saw that he'd made his decision to stay. Your heart swelled with joy and excitement and you smiled fully back.

"For science, then." You leaned in to catch his mouth in a soft, happy kiss. The smirk on your face when you pulled back could only be described as arrogant. "If we're both still here in the morning, I'll make pancakes."

How could he refuse? He loved pancakes, and he adored you. If he was supposed to leave you alone, he didn't know how to do that as long as you liked having him around. If he didn't deserve this kind of happiness, it didn’t matter; he couldn't refuse it. He belonged to you, wanted to claim you in return. He pulled you in tight, so that your legs were tangled together, your arms around one another, your head underneath his chin.

"If I hurt you, I'll never forgive you."

You gave a laughing hum, low in your throat, and snuggled in closer. "I'm obviously totally worried about it."

You woke on your side, Bucky spooning you. His body was curled protectively around you, his arm tight but gentle around your waist as he snugged you into him. His breathing was deep and even and you assumed he was still asleep despite the iron bar of his erection pressed into your ass.

You couldn't help yourself, had to move your skin against the soft skin over steel. Gently, trying not to move too much and wake him, you rocked your hips against him. The sensation of his hot hardness against your ass made you sigh out in pleasure. You kept thinking about how easy it would be to move so that you could trap his cock between your thighs.

Once you'd started thinking about it, you couldn't stop. The thought worked on you until you rocked slowly up and precisely back down until Bucky's dick was sliding between your thighs and through your folds. Once he was there, you paused to breathe in quick, excited pants.

"Thank god you're awake," Bucky rumbled behind you, his hand coming up to cup your breast as he started rocking back and forth between your legs.

His other hand found your clit at the same time you asked, "Powdered sugar and fruit?" You squealed a little when his hips tilted, and he slid slowly and inexorably inside of you. "Or a river of maple syrup?" You finished the question on a breathless gasp of wonder at the sensation.

"First you." He didn't know where the two of you were going, but the two of you had already cleared several hurdles. You made him happy, and he believed he was making you happy, somehow. He'd keep it up as long as possible. "Then pancakes."

When you felt his lips skimming from your shoulder towards your neck, you tilted your head so he could kiss your throat. You gasped when he rested hilt deep inside you, “Well, you are my guest.”

Bucky thought the warm laughter in your voice was one of the loveliest things he'd ever heard. Pulling you in tight, he began thrusting into you slow and easy as he purred in your ear, “Thanks for having me, doll.”

-The End

 Taglist: @hellzzzbelle @cheekygeek05 @lbouvet @diinofayce @bibliophile1773​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @miraclesoflove​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ @irritated-bisexual​ @peaceinourtime82​ @badassbaker​ @walkingtravesty97​ @fashionworld12​ @readermia​

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky x fem!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #two part one shot #pantswrites #genghis khan

[amandaoftherosemire]

Genghis Khan -- Part One

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU/MCU AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X fem!Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, OMC Neil

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,703

Format: Two-Part One-Shot

Warnings: Smut (next part), 18+ only, angst, jealousy, violent impulses, mutual pining

Summary: You and Bucky are neighbors and friends-with-benefits. Neither of you like the arrangement, but neither of you are willing to risk ruining it to ask for more. One night, you both get pushed to your limits.

A/N: This fic was inspired by the song “Genghis Khan” by Miike Snow. Once it was in my head, it wouldn’t stop clamoring until I let it out. I was busy; I’m trying to finish other fics that have sat for far too long, but here I am, still thirsting for Bucky like a slut. I don’t know what I’m doing any more. What a lie. Like I ever knew what I was doing. I split it into two parts when it got over 10,000 words, but it just needs a final pass before I’ll be ready to put the next part up, too, so I’ll have the second part up very shortly. I hope y’all enjoy! 😊

Genghis Khan Part One

 Bucky was pacing again.

With a growl of frustration, he escaped the closing walls of his apartment by taking to the streets, walking the sidewalks of his youth. When he'd moved back to New York, he'd expected to be overwhelmed by too many people, too much movement, but he'd found the familiar press and rush of the city a comfort. Back home in Brooklyn, he’d found a part of himself that could find solace within the traces of the streets he'd run as a boy and another part that found relief that those reminders were few and far between after nearly a century's worth of change.

Whenever he was no longer content to keep to himself, when his apartment started to feel stifling, like he was trapped, he'd walk for blocks and blocks, breathing the air, basking in freedom. Just because he wasn't quite sure what to do with his freedom half the time was neither here nor there. He had choices now. There was nothing more precious.

Still, he'd forgotten the double-edged nature of choosing for oneself. That he had been the one to make his own choices was cold comfort when he still felt the need to escape them. He didn’t want to be home, his need to flee moving him to walk the streets in a frustrated attempt to wear himself out. He knew he couldn't be there when you got back, and he needed to be exhausted before he walked past your door.

His neighbor, his friend, his greatest desire, he'd watched you leave tonight with the same man as last time, and the time before. This was the first time you'd left with the same person more than once. Bucky couldn’t explain why, but it felt momentous that you’d gone on a third date.

Bucky couldn’t decide if he was happy for you that you'd found someone else after he'd fucked it up or if he was infuriated that he’d been so easily replaced. Torn between relief and fury, he fumed as he walked, the battle blinding him to the streets that passed. The relief was cold and empty, the only comfort that the choice would be taken from him and with it the temptation, but the fury was hot and dangerous, ready to bubble over at merely the thought that someone else would share your bed, would touch what his heart insisted was his.

Bucky had no right to be jealous, and he damn well knew it, but that didn't stop the green bile from rising into his throat at the thought of anyone else discovering the taste of your skin, dewed with the sweat of desire, or how it felt to sink into your silken wet clasp. His own choices, his own careful silence had come between you, and he had no right to want to make the other man disappear before he was given the opportunity to find the exact frequency at which you moaned in pleasure.

Bucky didn’t have a problem with this particular person, really. He didn’t know anything about him, had carefully not asked for even a scrap of information. His low-grade urge to find him and smother him with a pillow was nothing personal; there was no way it could be. He simply couldn't help but have a problem with the very concept of anyone but himself sharing your bed.

He'd started to fall for you about a week after he'd moved in. He'd leaned out to grab his paper, the printed word an anachronism he still preferred, at the same time you'd opened your own door. Bleary-eyed and only half-conscious, you'd scooped up your own newspaper as you'd grunted, "Morning," in his general direction, waved the paper, and turned away, cursing absently when you scraped your shoulder against your door frame. Something about the mix of irritable, polite, and confused of a morning made his heart soft, despite his determination to not get close to anyone.

Over the next several months, however, you'd somehow become his friend. Neither of you seemed to seek it out, but you were always friendly without being pushy whenever you ran into one another, and the two of you often fell into casual conversation. One evening, you'd knocked on his door with a wry smile and a plate full of food when you'd made enough for a guest that had cancelled at the last minute.

After licking the plate clean, starved for the taste of homemade, he had washed it properly, returning it with a note offering both his phone number and his stomach for any extra food you wanted to get rid of. Before either of you were expecting it, the two of you were sharing dinner at least once a week. He began spending many of his nights on your couch watching tv and movies, trying to catch up with the world he’d missed while first frozen inside the Soldat, and then again during the Blip. Once you knew his full identity, something you figured out early and ignored almost entirely, you did your best to answer any questions he had about what he'd missed.

Your blasé attitude towards his past confused and delighted him, and he never quite knew what to make of it. Did you truly not care about his past? Did you have an opinion at all? If you did, how did he still never feel judged when he was with you? Something about you let him set down the person he'd been in those lost years, not to forget, but to rest for a moment. When you looked at him, he didn’t feel damned by his multitude of sins. He didn't know what it meant, but he couldn't stay away either.

Bucky had spent countless evenings on your couch before the night you'd ended up in his lap. He couldn’t remember if he'd pulled you on to him or if you’d climbed aboard, but once you were there, he couldn't resist filling himself with everything that tempted him, had been tempting him for months. You were like flame in his arms, warming him to his bones, and the sensation of your skin against his was too much to deny.

He'd left in the gray light of the pre-dawn, forcing himself from the softness of your bed, your arms, but he'd been afraid of how right it had felt to lose himself in you. It would have been terrifyingly easy to stay, to let himself pretend he had no past haunting his present, shaping his future.

Only a few hours later, he'd opened his door to your knock with dread a rock in his stomach, convinced he'd lost his friend because he couldn't keep his hands to himself. You'd stood there, a sardonic smile on your face and the boots you'd brought back to him at your feet. A brusque, "Don't make it weird," was all you’d said as you walked away.

That had led to Bucky asking Sam for help in deciphering what had happened, a thing he hated to do, but he didn't know where else to turn. Sam had made him pay for the requested information in his usual good-natured mockery, but at the end of the conversation Bucky understood that he'd set the boundaries by leaving the way he did. To his surprise, you'd accepted his unspoken limits without comment.

Part of him blessed you for it, grateful that you wouldn't force him to explain how little the likes of him deserved what astonishing kindness you'd already shown him. Another part of him cursed the fact that you'd never confronted him, never told him what you wanted, never forced him to confront himself.

Because he hadn't stopped spending time with you, had he? He hadn't stopped touching you in any way you'd allow, hadn't stopped warming himself at your fire. He kept sharing your meals, occupying your time, monopolizing your attention. The guilt he felt for not offering you what you deserved in return couldn't overwhelm his need to see you, be near you, feel the electric charge of your presence crackling over his skin.

You, however, treated him with the warmth of a friend you occasionally nailed, leaving Bucky at a loss. Bucky couldn't tell if you even wanted more from him; you seemed so at ease with the situation. Sam didn't think the arrangement unusual, even insisting it had its own initialism, FWB, but Bucky often didn't understand what Sam took for granted.

The first time he'd heard you at your door with a date, he'd had to exert all his self-control to not physically assault the man kissing you goodnight. Only the night before, your regular Friday night movie night had ended, as it most often did, with him easing quietly from your bed. This time he'd heard you sigh, sad and forlorn, and he'd paused, but he had not turned back. He would not speak of his feelings for you, his own self-loathing holding his tongue.

He was lucky you'd allowed him to touch you at all; he would not taint you any more than he already had, nor would he risk your rejection. That didn't mean he had any control over the jealous rage that filled his head at the thought that he might lose you, that another might take his place in your bed, in your life. Knowing you'd been out with someone else had driven him mad, and only superhuman control had allowed him to walk away before he found out if you'd invited your date inside.

Such things were none of his business. He'd made sure of that.

That had been a couple months ago. You'd continued to date others, but still you kept coming back to him, still allowed him into your bed. You'd remained his friend throughout, never speaking of the dual nature of your relationship. The friend never acknowledged the lover, the sexual heat between you something separate, held away from everything else. He didn't know what you thought of it, because you never spoke of it. But he never spoke, either, because he lived in terror that to do so would be to invite catastrophe, that he'd lose everything he so highly prized.

Tonight, he had once again escaped his apartment to escape what he'd continued to tell himself he couldn't have. He was walking the streets, no particular destination in mind, his thoughts on the way laughter looked in your deep, warm eyes and on your soft luscious mouth, when he rounded a corner and was smacked in the face with the sight of you.

You and your date were dining al fresco, the warmth of the summer evening making you glow, pretty and passionate in the fading light of the setting sun. You were dressed in more warmth, a deep, rose red that made you look like heat personified. The dress hugged your curves while remaining modest enough to tease the imagination with what couldn’t be seen. Like a moth to your flame, Bucky had yet to figure out how to resist your pull. He had yet to figure out why he wanted to.

Stopping in his tracks, he barely noticed the few blows of people bumping into him before the flow of foot traffic around him adjusted to his sudden halt. His heart kicked into an immediate gallop at the sight of your face, animated with the story on your lips as you gestured with your fork. He hadn't touched you in weeks, since before your first date with the man who sat, enchanted, across from you. The lack hit him suddenly, like a punch to the gut, along with the thought that he may never get to touch you again, all because of his own cowardice.

Unable to watch you bewitch another the same way you'd enthralled him, Bucky turned away, pushing through people in his desperation to get away, his heart heavy and his vision red with fury. If he let himself give in to his baser instincts, he'd be striding through the crowd to pick you up and carry you off like the caveman he felt. Instead, he walked aimlessly for hours, trying to do everything he could to make sure he'd have neither the energy nor the inclination to knock on your door on his way home.

He had no right to interrupt your evening just because jealousy was like an acid burning in his brain. If you were alone, he wanted to change that, impress into your skin that you needed no touch but his. If you weren't alone, he wanted to change that, throw the other man from your bed with every shred of brutality that still burned at his core. That he had no right changed nothing. His muscles were still tensed for a fight, the catharsis of violence calling to him despite his determination to be better than his past, to behave like a civilized human being.

That determination was sorely tested when he heard your voice as he came up the stairs to his apartment floor. He never took the elevator, didn't trust closed places with minimal escape. On top of that, he'd rather make the climb than give any possible ambush advance warning of his arrival. Old habits died hard, and he couldn't, wouldn’t stop watching his back simply because he wasn't on the run anymore.

Those warm and sultry tones that had so easily seduced him dozens of times over echoed into his ultra-sensitive ears, sending shudders over his skin and making his vibranium hand clench at his side. He stopped on the stairs, seven or so feet from the stairwell door, open just a crack, but enough to let your voice through. He was determined to give you as much privacy as he could, no matter that he wanted to ease close enough to make out the words being said.

Before he could blink, his body overrode his integrity and he was already in motion, easing silently up the stairs to close the distance, to eavesdrop on you and your date. He wasn't proud of himself, but he couldn't help himself, either, not when he felt like his entire future hung in the balance.

His heart slowed as his breathing fell into a silent, even rhythm. He moved forward until he was just outside the line of sight for the floor he shared with you. Your door was more than a few steps away from the cracked stairwell door, so Bucky moved until he was behind the door and stuck his ear to the gap to listen to you and your date. He didn't know what, if anything, he would do with the information he was trying to get, but he needed it, nonetheless.

"Hmm," your voice was warm with the soft edge of sensuality, quiet enough that only Bucky's enhanced hearing allowed it to crawl into his ears like spiders, all legs and fangs. "Very nice."

"Nice enough to get me inside?" The man's voice was muffled, and Bucky could hear a shuffling of fabric that told him the likely picture that awaited him on the other side of the door. His muscles locked down in response to the rage that washed through him. He would not give in to the violence that had shaped him, no matter the provocation.

He had no right. He had no right. He had no right.

The mantra kept him calm until he heard a little more shuffling, then a surprising quiet. "I don't think so." Your voice broke the silence with a wry regret that was both firm and yet gentle. You were turning your date down, but you were being careful with him. The hand around Bucky's throat eased as his most immediate fears were relieved.

"Tonight?" Your date asked the question kindly. "Or at all?"

A long pause had Bucky confused, wondering what kind of nonverbal communication he was missing. When you finally answered, you sounded like you were covering your face with your hands.

"Oh god," you answered, your voice strangled. "I'm so sorry. It's really obvious, isn't it?” 

"You very carefully talk around someone," Bucky's rival sounded disappointed, but resigned. He couldn't know that he was putting possibilities in Bucky's brain, making him wonder if he could make things right with you.

Would he, if he could? Would he speak of his feelings if given another chance? Could he find the courage to do so?

In the next moment, you sounded so lost and hurt that Bucky was once again having to exert the same intense amount of self-control to remain still. But this time, it was to stop himself from leaping through the door to take you in his arms and protect you from whatever had made you sad. "I'm hung up." Your voice was thick, and the thought that you might have tears in your eyes made him feel physically ill. "I don't know when I won't be."

"Hey, don't worry about it. Sometimes the timing's off." The man's voice was kind and almost made Bucky feel bad for him. The triumphant crow sounding inside his mind at the thought that you would not sleep with the other man tonight was much louder, however. "Call me when you get off the hook?"

Your soft laugh and warm retort, "You'll be the first," cut off that crow of triumph, giving room for the possessive voice in the back of Bucky's mind to snarl viciously with the same jealousy that had been driving his steps since he'd watched you leave with the other man the second time.

Bucky had realized then that he could bear anything but losing you. Your presence in his life had become necessary to him; he could not stand by and let you walk out of it. He stepped back from the crack in the door when he heard you exchanging your goodbyes with your date. The two of you couldn’t help but be a little awkward, as it was clear that there wouldn't be another date any time soon. Leaning against the concrete wall behind the door, he waited for you to go into your apartment and for the man to leave the building.

Bucky listened to your apartment door open and close as footsteps made their way toward the elevator, but with only half an ear as his mind was mostly on the conversation he'd overheard. He knew he'd spend the next several hours lying on his floor, trying to test the exact weight of the words 'hung up' and wondering whether they were in reference to him. If they were, what, precisely, did they mean?

He heard the elevator doors open and close and pushed away from the wall, determined to get into his apartment as quickly as possible so that he could start parsing the meaning of both your and your date's words in private. Despite himself, he slowed as he neared your door.

To his own shock, he soon found himself facing your door, raising his hand to knock.

On the other side of the door, you slumped in defeat against the wall for a moment before kicking off your heels. You hated that you'd had to do that, but it had only been fair. You'd humiliated yourself because of Bucky Barnes yet again, and you thought you might be at your limit.

To be honest, you'd thought that a number of times at this point, but you couldn't save yourself from the allure he held for you. A hidden sun obscured by shadows, your body craved the dark while your heart craved the light. A beautiful juxtaposition embodied in one insanely sexy man, every part of you was attracted to every part of him, both good and bad, light and dark, peace and violence.

Sometimes he would sit laughing on your couch, his face shining and beautiful in unguarded enjoyment, and the sight would stop your throat with emotion. His happiness was too glorious to risk never seeing again, too precious to risk never inspiring again. A wonderful, charming companion, his warm smiles and dry humor had made him the best friend you'd ever had. Keeping your friend quickly became your highest priority. You'd fallen so deeply in love with Bucky, you'd done whatever you had to do to stay close. 

And when his jaw clenched, the muscle moving in his cheek, the final sign that he'd given in to desire, your body wouldn't say no. Despite every tear you'd shed each time he'd left your bed before he had to look at you in the cold light of day, you couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. The fire in his eyes called to you, no matter how you tried to resist, no matter the damage to your heart. His touch made you weak in ways you'd never known, ways you both loved and hated, but you couldn't walk away of your own volition. 

Which was why you'd gone out with Neil three times when you'd known after the first date that it was hopeless, that you couldn't be with anyone as long as you were still in love with Bucky. You'd fooled yourself for a while that you just needed time and space, that a couple of dates with someone good and sweet would be enough to help you get over this obsessive need.

Tonight, you'd admitted to yourself that you'd been wrong, that you were stringing Neil along for your own needs. You'd been using him to shield yourself from the temptation just down the hall. You'd had to be honest with both yourself and him that you weren't really available, not as long as this thing with Bucky remained unspoken and unresolved. 

When the knock came at your door, you pasted a smile on your face as you turned back around, hoping Neil wasn't going to make it weird.

When you pulled the door open, his head lifted and, even in the dim light of the hallway, Bucky's eyes seemed to burn into yours. He was wearing his usual uniform of black t-shirt and jeans over boots, only the missing leather jacket a concession to the heat of the day. You would swear that his hair was mussed from his own hands dragging through it in frustration; he looked frazzled, something you’d never seen.

"What does 'hung up' mean?" Bucky asked the question in low tones, the rumble of his voice both gentle and dangerous. Goosebumps erupted over your skin as his eyes raked over you with banked heat and you realized he'd overheard your conversation with Neil as you'd sent him away. A cold chill of hot rage swept through you and the words were tumbling from your lips before you had a chance to think them through.

"It means I sent a good guy away because I can't stop thinking about you."

Bucky's left hand clenched into a fist at his side as his entire body clenched in desire. Your eyes flashed to his even as one eyebrow quirked slightly. He deliberately opened his hand, stretching his fingers. "May I come in?" His voice was a rumble even deeper than his first question.

Your core had clenched when his hand had, something about that show of held back passion always made you crazy. You knew that if he came in, you were going to end up in bed, sooner more likely than later.

"Yes," left you in a breath, consequences be damned. You craved him, your body screaming out for the feel of his. To your body's purring delight, assent was barely past your lips before Bucky was pushing upright in a ripple of strength and he was striding forward to take you in his arms. Your body flashed hot as firm muscle and cool vibranium banded around you, lifting you up and carrying you into your apartment as he kicked the door shut behind him.

His lips found yours and you were sinking in with a sigh of relief. You hadn't touched him in weeks, hadn't been wrapped in the feel, the scent of him. The return to his arms felt like coming home, and you knew why you’d tried to escape, understood why you couldn’t.

“So it’s not just me,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands skimming over your sides down to your legs. With seemingly no effort, Bucky’s hands gripped your thighs and lifted. You bounced a little on your calves to help and before you could blink, your legs were wrapped around his waist, his hands were on your ass, and the rest of him was pressing you into the wall at your back as his mouth took yours again.

You kissed him back with all the pent-up emotion inside you. You wanted him until it hurt, but feeding the need also brought pain. You ran your hands frantically over the muscles of his back and arms, your fingertips grazing the back of his neck and making him shiver in your arms, a sensation that always made you feel outrageously powerful. Your hands dived into his hair to drag his head back so that you could fix your mouth on his throat.

So engrossed with the salt of his skin as you scraped your teeth over that perfect jaw, you didn’t understand at first the words tumbling from his mouth in a growling rush of passion. “I don’t want you going out with other people. I don’t want anyone’s hands on you but mine.” The words sent a shudder through you and your hands tightened in his hair as his hands began to skim over your thighs, kneading the muscles and rocking you gently against one another. “I want to hunt down and destroy everyone who knows how soft your lips are,” you knew it was wrong, but the sound of his jealousy made your heart skip and clutch, “because I’m fucked up and violent and you should stay away from me.” Except you were fucked up too because you knew exactly how he felt. “I know I shouldn’t drag you into my fucked up life, but I can’t stop.”

You scoffed and lifted your head to look into his face. Your eyes blazed with the mix of feeling he inspired in you, exasperation, adoration, fury, despair. "I know, Bucky." Your voice was desolate with the pain he'd caused every time he'd walked away and for a moment, you dropped the casual façade and let him see how much you felt for him.

Bucky looked startled for a moment, like he hadn't anticipated the depth of feeling he had uncovered. He'd shown up when you were weak, when you had no defenses, and then had the temerity to look surprised when you were so easily conquered. You wanted to bite him, it made you so mad.

You opened your mouth, whether to bite him literally or just with your words you didn't know, but the surprise on his face melted into one of burning emotion that found its match in you. However infuriating and confusing you found him, he had apparently been feeling the same. His mouth slanted across yours once again and you could taste the complex mix of emotion in his kiss.

You kissed him back, your hands still in his hair holding his mouth to yours with a fervor born of desperation. You wanted to hold back all of this feeling, afraid to show him your heart when you had so little understanding of his, but you were caught on the wave. He seemed equally unable to hold back, and you finally felt like he'd let you see beneath his scowling veneer. He was holding you like you mattered, and you couldn’t pretend he didn't.

Abruptly, Bucky tore his mouth from yours as he pulled away from the wall to carry you the couple of steps down the brief hallway to your bedroom. “I’m taking you to bed," he growled, as though daring you to stop him, though you would swear you saw fear glimmering in his eyes that you would do exactly that.

“Damn right you are.”

Part Two here>>

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#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x fem!reader #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky fanfiction #Bucky x fem!reader #Bucky fanfic #Marvel fanfiction #Marvel fanfic #MCU fanfiction #MCU fanfic #pantswrites #series wip #two-part one-shot

[amandaoftherosemire]

Second Sight -- Part Nineteen

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU/MCU AU

Pairing: Loki Odinson X fem!Reader

Characters: Loki Odinson, OMC Odof, Unnamed Guard

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6,276

Format: Series WIP

Warnings: TW: assault, TW: sexual assault, TW: violence, TW: murder, TW: very minor character death, smut, NSFW, 18+ only, sexual intercourse, sex in public (kinda), language.

Summary: Loki takes you on a long overdue honeymoon on a pleasure planet. You can’t take your eyes off the spectacle while Loki can’t take his eyes off you. When you inadvertently draw the attention of the casino guard, Loki takes you on a wild escape through the alien city, and the excitement overwhelms you both.

A/N: Regarding the trigger warnings, the assault is not described in detail and is over very quickly. It does involve unwanted sexual contact, however, a grope, if you will, so please engage with caution if this subject matter is upsetting to you.

I guess I am constitutionally incapable of not telling this story until it is done. So I’ll keep posting it until Tumblr dies or the story is finished, whichever comes first. I’m also posting it on AO3 so I think I have to finish it no matter what happens. The taglist is still open. 😊

I’m not quite sure what to say about this chapter. I guess I thought everything was going too well and Loki needed a chance to be himself for a minute. Maybe I know what has to happen next and, well… 😬

<<Part Eighteen here

Second Sight Part Nineteen

Loki sat at a table in a corner, his back to the wall, a glass of Kree wine on the table in front of him. The zealots were aggravating, but they could craft truly spectacular spirits. He was enjoying the wine almost as much as he was enjoying watching you enjoy yourself.

You were across the room, playing a form of darts with a trio of Ravagers. Loki didn't know how you managed to do it, but you kept finding the most dangerous and violent creatures in any given room. He’d worry more about it if you weren’t so adept at charming each and every one of them. Taking you into the wider universe made him feel better about his own inability to resist your allure. If there was a rogue in the galaxy you couldn't wrap around your finger, you'd yet to find him. Loki had simply been the first to fall, not the only. To his never-ending relief.

The bar was an unimposing establishment in the part of town that started leaning toward rough but didn’t quite reach dangerous. It wasn’t a bar in the Midgardian sense, as there was no long counter between the person who served the drinks and the clientele. But the tentacled creature in the corner served the same purpose as a bartender, a table in front of them and an array of ingredients from which to make beverages surrounding them, a sympathetic ear for anyone who chose to confide in them.

The room wasn’t big, but the tables weren’t packed tightly together. Loki had snagged a small table in the corner, black native wood, covered in scars and dings from the years of use, but clean, as the bartender prided themself such things. He sat there, his back against a bright green wall, and watched you learn how to communicate with a bartender who mostly communicated in gesture. You seemed to be having the time of your life.

You were laughing and joking with your new friends, effervescent in your confidence. Loki swirled the shimmering golden liquid in his glass and smiled at you, at himself, at the softness he could feel inside. He'd once disdained such feelings, seen them as weaknesses. He hadn't known that a partner in mischief only made it more exciting, that concern for that partner would make him so much more dangerous. He would destroy worlds for you, bathe in blood to keep you safe. Soft he may be, for you, but that softness only made him sharper and more vicious to all others.

That sharpness had his hackles rising at the sight of the casino guard who'd just come through the door, clearly looking for someone. Loki didn't know how or why, but something told him he knew what the man was looking for. When his eyes latched onto you as you called out to the bartender for another round, Loki knew he was about to prove that you'd made him more than he had been. Loki glanced around to make sure no one was watching before shimmering into invisibility.

Grateful for once that his magic didn't work on you, he gestured to get your attention and beckoned you over once he caught your eye. You practically danced over, the euphoria from the unfamiliar liquor adding to the delights of the evening and making you feel light as air. You dropped into the seat next to him, a huffing laugh of joy bubbling up.

"What's up, love?" By the time you were done with the question, your demeanor had changed, serious and watchful in response to the dark aura that surrounded Loki. You could see on his face that something had gone wrong. The tightness of his jaw, the white knuckles around his wineglass told you he was preparing to do violence if the situation warranted it. You sat back a little, but prepared to move if he gave the signal.

"There's a guard from the casino about to sit next to you." Loki breathed out the words in a rush, not wanting to be overheard and needing you to understand the danger before the guard reached you. "He can't see me."

You raised your eyebrows and sat back casually, though you were braced to run at the slightest sign from Loki. You watched him as he watched the guard approach you, his eyes glittering with menace, but the other man didn't see Loki and couldn't be intimidated. He was another giant, over seven feet tall and built like a barbarian. The guard sauntered up with confidence; as far as he knew, he could pick you up and carry you out with one hand if it became necessary.

The man was hoping it wouldn't be necessary. He was the sort you preferred barter to violence and thought you pretty enough to offer something he wanted. He didn’t see any reason to drag you back to the casino for questioning if you proved sufficiently entertaining. "Hello, miss," he rumbled behind you. "A word?"

You looked up at yet another giant, but this one didn't look friendly, didn't give you the good vibes of your friend earlier. You stared him down a moment, taking his measure, before you warily answered, "And if I say no?"

Loki was too busy watching the guard to grin at you as he wanted to. You were magnificent, as haughty and cruel as a queen as you verbally dismissed the other man as though he wasn’t worth your notice, let alone your fear. However large he may be, and despite his intentions, you made it clear he held no terror for you. A dull flush climbed the pale skin of his face, and his eyes went hard with banked rage.

"No reason to not be polite, miss," he gritted out as he took the chair next to yours, leaning in to explicitly threaten with his size. "We don’t have to talk. I could drag you out of here to join your friend in our holding cell if you’d rather."

Your nose wrinkled at the smell of his breath wafting across your face and disgust dripped from your words in response. "And why would you want to do such a thing in the first place?" You straightened in your seat and turned your head to avoid the foul stench coming off of the man. He had a handsome face, but the nasty leer twisting it combined with the smell of him to make your stomach turn.

"I get paid a pretty penny to make sure people don't cheat the casino, miss." The guard reached out and closed his hand around the back of your chair, closing you in with his body in an attempt to block your escape route. You were careful not to look directly at Loki, but you watched him in your periphery, waiting for his signal. Since he was still watching the other man with glittering eyes, motionless as he waited for the right moment to act, you stayed put and focused on the threat.

"I didn't cheat!" You answered the accusation in ringing indignation. "How dare you? I got lucky and walked away before my luck ran out." Your mind was racing, trying to figure out what kind of casino went to such lengths for only two wins. There had to be more to it than that, which explained why Loki hadn't moved, but you weren't certain it was worth investigating when you could just make a break for it.

The guard's leer turned lecherous. "Say I believe you, miss." The hand not blocking your escape closed around your thigh and moved shockingly fast up under your skirt. "What's in it for me to let you go?" The next moment his hand went lax and fell away from you. You'd been about to scream the rafters down, but the guard's eyes fell closed, and he slumped onto the table in a heap. At your feet was a quickly spreading pool of blood pouring from the inside of his thigh.

You lifted eyes shocked and horrified to Loki's viciously cold expression and whisper-screamed, "DID YOU JUST KILL HIM?" The situation had turned so suddenly and unexpectedly violent that you had whiplash.

"He put his hands on you." The next moment, Loki was standing and tossing a bag of money on the table. He grabbed your hand in a vise grip and hauled you to your feet, pulling you quickly behind him toward the back of the bar. You stared back at the body of the man that had assaulted you, only to reap the consequences of that choice immediately.

"Okay, yes, he did." You were on the verge of babbling, too shocked by the sudden turn of events and the sight of your first dead body. "And no, I didn’t like it, but I didn’t expect you to kill him!" You were barely paying attention to anything but keeping up with Loki. You could hear the beginning of an uproar in the room you'd left as he dragged you through the back room of the bar where they kept their inventory and out the back door into an alleyway. "How did you even do that?"

Loki took a quick glance in each direction before taking a left to zigzag through the back streets of the city. If he'd been alone, he'd have simply slipped between the shadows and been off this planet already, but of course he couldn't take you with him when he shadowwalked outside the Nine Realms. He'd have to take you out the long way, but the city guards would be looking for the two of you now, and their relationship with the casino guards would make them determined to find you. Loki wasn't worried about his ability to protect you but was still determined to get you off the planet before he had to spill any more blood on your shoes.

"My knives are very sharp." His voice was cold, and he was sick that this trip could be so ruined by violence. At the same time, no one could be allowed to put his hands on you like that. The man had signed his own death warrant the moment he'd touched you. "He probably didn’t even notice he was bleeding out."

Loki glanced at you, searching your face for signs of disgust or horror. All he found was pale-faced confusion. He'd never seen you look like this and didn't know what it meant, let alone how to handle it. He was furious with himself that he hadn't acted before the guard had a chance to hurt you. Fury and guilt roiled his stomach and made him feel ill. He fell into old habits and hid the sick feeling behind callous cruelty. "Unfortunate he couldn’t know why he was dying, but it seemed best not to draw attention." Loki wanted to keep his eyes on you, concerned by both your demeanor and your silence, but he needed to keep an eye out for the guards he could hear amassing in the main street. "Which is why we left before anyone noticed that something was amiss."

At the sight of a clump of men coming down the alley, Loki ducked into an alcove, pulling you in with him and counting on the spells he'd placed around you to keep you invisible to them as they passed by. He placed a finger to his lips to indicate he wanted silence as making you inaudible had been much more difficult than making you invisible.

You glared at him but didn't say anything. You were still gobsmacked by the sudden death of the man in the bar. You had never experienced anything like it, been talking to someone one moment and watching the life fade from their eyes the next. You knew Loki to be dangerous, had personal experience of it, but this was the first time you'd been confronted with concrete evidence that he was capable of dealing death, the cold and calculated kind.

If you weren't also vaguely sickened by the memory of how it had felt to have the man assault you so brazenly, so suddenly, perhaps you would have felt more remorse at his death. As the remnants of his foul touch were still burning your skin, you were more concerned with getting out of this situation alive than you were with scolding Loki for murdering someone practically in your lap.

"I’m not going to argue," you said in a soundless whisper, "but we’re going to discuss this further."

Loki didn't speak until the clot of guards had made their way past your alcove, not seeing either of you as they passed by. Once they were far enough down the alley, Loki pulled you from the niche in the wall and again began making his way out of the city and back to the beach where the portal home still waited. "I cannot wait," he retorted, his voice only a whisper of sound, but the affection was back.

The two of you dodged the teams of searchers, weaving in and out of the side streets to avoid the men looking for you. If you hadn't been invisible, they'd have found you easily; there were too many to avoid without the added advantage. As it was, there were a lot of moments where all you could do was duck into a corner or an alcove and wait for the guards to pass you by.

Near the edge of the city, a large contingent of the guards had congregated, setting up what looked like a roadblock. Loki came to a halt so quickly, you ran into his back. With a swift, low curse, he glanced around, looking for a place to take a moment and consider his options. To his frustration, he spotted exactly what he needed, an empty building, across the main street. He was going to have to take you across the way in full view of the crowd of guards.

Loki turned to look at you, to gauge how you were holding up through the nerve-wracking escape. To his astonishment, you looked annoyed more than anything. Whatever you were thinking or feeling, he could see that you were holding up fine under the pressure, that you were as bold and fearless as he thought you to be.

As a matter of fact, you were far more than annoyed. The pressure was getting to you, but you also knew that falling apart would only make a bad situation worse. So far, Loki and his spells had shielded you and you had faith that they would continue to do so. If they didn’t, Loki had made it abundantly clear that he would kill for you. Knowing it to be true, and having real life experience of it, however, were two very different things. The stew of feelings inside you was too complicated to understand. You needed time to assimilate the new data and untangle how you felt about it.

When Loki let go of your hand to slip his arm around your shoulder, you snuggled into his body, seeking comfort. Between the violence of the guard's assault and the vengeance Loki had taken on your behalf, you were feeling a little shaky and jittery. He had protected you, at every turn. You gladly accepted the safety of his embrace.

Loki swiftly guided you across the street to a door next to dark windows. You didn't know if the business was closed or abandoned, but it was clear it was empty either way. Loki only left your side long enough to slip through the door and unlock it from the inside. You slipped through the crack in the door as quickly as possible, not wanting to draw attention.

Once you were inside, Loki locked the door behind you and threw a spell at it that would keep all adversaries outside, at least unless and until the wall gave in. He then moved to the window to stare out at the crowd of guards blocking your route to the beach. He counted quickly, did quick mental math to decide whether he could get you through unscathed. If it had only been himself, he would have taken the chance of detection and fought his way through if necessary, but he wasn't sure he was willing to risk those odds with you. He'd teased you so relentlessly for being afraid to gamble and here he was dithering because he was too afraid for you. He hated this weakness.

"Thank you," you murmured as you slid your arms around him from behind, snugging yourself against his back with a sigh of relief. "I needed a moment to catch my breath." The room seemed to be an office of some sort, a lot of desks and paperwork. It looked like a haven compared to the wild chase that awaited you outside.

Loki whirled in your arms, turning away from the window to close his arms around you like bands of steel. He held you so tight, you felt him squeezing your breath from your lungs, but you didn't complain, just held him as close as you could in return. Your heart was still pounding and pounding from the mad dash through the streets and you could feel his race in his chest in time with yours.

You lifted your head to look into his face, wondering at that racing heart and wanting to gauge his mood. The moment you were face to face with him, however, you realized you'd made a mistake. His eyes were burning emeralds, hot with desire and something sharper, darker, something you'd only seen when he was most affected, most moved.

Loki dipped his head and closed his mouth over yours, desperate for the taste of you. He was holding you too tight and he knew it, but the peril had gone to his head and spiked his libido, while your unwavering faith in him left him feeling soft and weak for you. He'd already been on edge for hours and the sudden violence and the tension of the escape left him desperate to touch you, to remind himself that you were safe and still his, despite everything.

You didn't resist, the passion in his kiss the catalyst in an alchemical reaction inside you that changed fear to desire in the blink of an eye. You met his passion with matching fire, nipping at his lips and meeting the surge of his tongue with your own. He tasted wilder than ever before and you adored it, wanted more of it. If you hadn't been hiding from a mob bent on revenge, you wouldn't think twice about indulging your desire. As it was, you loosened your arms around him and tried to push yourself out of his hard embrace.

Loki lifted his head but didn't allow you to move. This is madness, he thought, his heart pounding even harder at the sight of your bottomless eyes, soft and dreamy with desire, with love. He hadn't realized how much of the fear of his escape had been about how you'd feel about him once you were safe.

He'd killed someone right in front of you. For you, yes, but he'd also shown you how cold, how vicious he could truly be. He hadn't known how deep the terror that you couldn't accept all of him had dug into him.

Knowing that he could have blood literally on his hands and you'd still come into his arms with not only desire, but love, and trust, and faith, cut him deeper than anything ever had. A new fear crystallized, that he didn't just desire you, adore you, but needed you. The feeling rose up to choke him and had lust's claws digging into his spine. “Am I hurting you?” He gritted out the words, hating his own loss of control.

Gulping in surprise, you stared up into searing emerald and saw that he spoke the unvarnished truth. Searching yourself for any denial, any lingering pain or fear from what had happened to you, you found only an answering need to be touched on your own terms. You shook your head and slid your hands from his shoulders back into his hair. The invitation was clear and, with a growl, he took your mouth with his own.

Loki devoured you.

You'd experienced this desperate passion before, the kind that made you feel like he'd consume you if he could, burn you alive in the fires of his lust. There were times you'd felt like there'd be nothing left when he was done with you, that you'd be ashes and shadows when the fire burned out.

But it had never been like this.

Loki's arms were no longer around you because his hands seemed to be everywhere, molding your body to his with squeezing presses. He seemed to be drawing your breath into him, leaving you panting and dizzy. Somehow, when he'd been kissing you breathless, you'd ended up with your back against the wall next to the window and his body was almost smothering you in heat and need.

Your mind cleared a very little bit when he tore his mouth from yours to close his teeth around the skin of your neck in sucking kisses designed to drive you crazy. "What are you doing?" You gasped it out, certain you knew the answer, but needing verification because of how suddenly the fire had blazed. Loki was daring, but he'd never lost control like this before.

"You." Loki's hands closed around your thighs and lifted to wrap your legs around his hips, pressing his erection against your core. His mouth never left your skin, moving over your neck and collarbones like he needed the taste of your flesh on his lips. Your head tilted to make it easier, seduced by both the urgency in his touch and the need in his voice.

"Here?" You'd never heard yourself sound so breathless, like he'd overwhelmed you, overcome you with the force of his need for you. Your hands buried themselves in his hair to hold on, needing to cling to him in the face of his desire. "Now?"

Loki pulled away from the wall, turning with you still in his arms to the rest of the room. "Here." The word dropped with a finality that sounded almost like a threat. He glanced around for a couch, a rug, whatever would serve as a surface to lose himself in you. "Now."

He found what he was looking for in the desk-like table in the middle of the room, the surface flat and about the right height. He took a couple long steps and set you down in front of it. As soon as your feet were under you, he spun you around and filled his hands with your breasts, his mouth returning to your shoulders to kiss and suck and bite. The way he curved around your body overbalanced you and had you bracing yourself on the desk in front of you.

"You’re out of your mind!" You gasped it out but had to acknowledge it lacked authority as you were pressing yourself into his hands, his body. You instinctively tilted your body to press your breast into the hand that hadn't gone wandering down your body to hike up your skirt. The movement also pressed your ass into the steel rod behind you and you rubbed against it provocatively, your body wanting to encourage this wild lovemaking, in the middle of danger, whatever your good sense had to say on the subject.

"I am out of my mind," Loki snarled in your ear, one hand plucking your nipple with clever fingers and sending bolts of sensation to your center. You clenched at the vicious darkness of his tone, the sound of his resentment oddly arousing. "You have driven me from it, and I cannot think for wanting you." His other hand had found the snaps at your hip and yanked them open in a swift, fierce movement. As soon as he had you bared to his touch his fingers were sliding into you from the front, over your clit, and spreading the wetness he discovered there. You were already soaking wet, brought to this point by his mouth at your shoulders and his other hand everywhere else.

"Every sense has become saturated in you," his breath was a whisper at your ear sending shivers over your skin, "and every moment without is an insult, an injury." Somehow, he'd arranged you with his hands and body until you were in the perfect position to slide inside you. You moaned long and low at the exquisite friction, surrounded by Loki's body, drenched in sensation, leaning forward a little, your head tilting forward at the exquisite sensation. "I want you tied up and at my mercy so I can take my time with you, make you beg for me."

Loki's hand hadn't left your clit even as he dug into you with short, maddening thrusts and you felt a climax already climbing. "Do you have mercy?" You asked the question fretfully, trying to get Loki to stop teasing you. You writhed in his arms in every way you'd learned he liked, pushing him to the edge. You fell forward enough to brace yourself on your elbows, trying to get more leverage to shove yourself onto him, needing him deeper.

Loki grinned at the feeling of you tempting him, taunting him. He loved bringing you to this point, where you gave in and showed him that the desire, the need he felt wasn't one-sided. You were binary stars, trapped in each other's orbit. You were his equal, and he yours, whether either of you wanted it or not. At this moment, buried inside you, only moments from feeling you come around him, he didn't care about anything but you.

"Perhaps," he replied as he lifted up and away from you, his hands leaving your clit and your breast to grip tightly at your hips. As soon as he had his hands around your waist, he used his strength to shove deep, to pull you onto him hard and fast, your groan of aching relief music to his ears. He smiled at the sound. "The only way to find out for certain is to start pleading for it."

There were more words from there, but they only came in singles and pairs, in the vein of, "right there," or "god, yes," or "harder," "faster," "more." Loki's fingers dug into the flesh of your hips as he pounded into you. The sight of his cock sliding in and out of you, the cheeks of your ass bouncing with every thrust, had him shuddering in possessive excitement. You were moaning in pleasure, the faster and harder he fucked you the closer you came to a life-changing orgasm.

Loki loved this, loved driving you into mindless pleasure, especially in such a moment, death waiting for you both just outside the door. That he could, that you'd give yourself to him so completely despite the danger made him feel both tender and feral. He carefully paced himself, not wanting to give in too soon, no matter what you did to entice him. And entice him you did.

You looked back at him, and he would swear your eyes were glowing with your desire, with your need. "Please," you whimpered, trying to push back in his tight grip, desperate for more. You were so close, the coil in your center tightening to the point of pain and he had the power to release all that tension. You just needed him to, "Fuck me, Loki."

Loki opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off with another, "Please," this one so soft and needy, he lost control. With a curse, he was using that bruising grip at your hips as leverage to pull you onto his cock hard and fast. Within three thrusts you were coming apart, the shivers of pleasure starting where you were clenched around him, rippling in ecstasy, and spreading through the rest of your body in shimmering waves of pleasure.

To your dizzy shock, Loki didn't slow down, simply growled in triumph when he felt you coming apart around him. He snarled, "More," and fucked you faster. You moaned, could swear he'd gotten harder inside you, though you didn't know how that was possible. You rested your forehead on the table in front of you and whimpered, your climax not fully subsiding as Loki's cock pounded into you, pushing you up and over again and again.

"I can't," you moaned fretfully, oversensitized and not sure you could take much more. You were close, but climbing even that little bit to your peak seemed like more than your body could manage. The feeling of him surging in and out of you was outstanding, but it had gotten to the point where it was almost too good, too much, and you simply hung in his grip, absorbing what he gave you.

You fell forward a little when one of Loki's hands released your hip, but he was leaning forward to follow you. His hand slid around your front to slip between your legs, his long fingers circling your clit, strumming, rubbing. His breath hot on your neck, he chuckled darkly when your hips started to move again; of their own volition, of course. You had no power over your body anymore. "You will." He stated it confidently, then pinched your clit carefully, with just the right amount of force, learned from years of loving you, to send you into orbit.

Your body, already on edge from the multiple adrenaline rushes of the evening, wrecked by the fucking of your life, oversensitive and overstimulated, erupted into a toe-curling, earth-shaking, life-altering orgasm. You'd never come this hard in your life, your vision going gray and stars exploding behind your eyes. You convulsed in pleasure, waves of ecstasy nearly rendering you unconscious.

You were too far gone to notice that you screamed Loki's name, but he noticed, and the sound had him coming in a flurry of stuttering hips and with a roar of triumph. Once his mind cleared from the intense pleasure of emptying himself into you as you came around him, he considered the problems he'd had with making you inaudible and wondered if there was any way the rings had managed to cover the sounds you’d made.

Bent over you, panting from both the exertion and the pleasure, he started laughing at the thought that the two of you might be caught because he couldn't keep his hands off you. The idea struck him as both ridiculously funny and ridiculously stupid.

When your ears stopped ringing, you became aware of Loki, chuckling in your ear, his hands moving tenderly to separate your bodies, leaning you gently on the desk when your knees went soft. His own knees weaker than he’d like to admit, he used his magic to put himself back together but pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the evidence of his passion from you. When he was finished, he vanished the cloth and helped redress you in the little shorts that he'd tossed to the floor.

Once that was done, he helped you stand up, shaking your skirt down around your thighs as he did so. To his smug satisfaction, you slid your arms around his neck to snuggle close, both in warm post-coital affection and to hold on to something solid. Your knees were still rubber, your body still vibrating from the echoes of pleasure. Loki slid his arms around you, beguiled by the softness of your embrace.

"We’re out of our minds," you murmured, your lips against the skin of his throat where you'd buried your face. "I can’t believe we just did that. I can’t believe I let you do that." You were awed at what you'd just done, what you'd invited, practically begged Loki to do to you. You were shocked, but there was no room for regret around the satisfaction. Despite your surprise at your daring, you couldn't deny a measure of smug was overshadowing any shame that wanted to rear its head.

Loki stooped to slide his arm behind your knees, lifting you up to carry you bridal style. He could tell by the way you clung to his neck that you'd need a little while to recover before you could dodge or run. He saw no reason to wait to take you home when he could just as easily carry you. Still too shaky to move quickly, you relaxed in his arms and didn't argue. It felt nice to be carried around like you weighed nothing.

Loki moved through the office until he was at the back door, using his magic to unlock and open it as well as closing and locking it behind him. Once in the alleyway, he walked quickly through the back streets, weaving with feline grace around the guards still searching for you. The spells that surrounded you continued to do their work, the only stress the sheer number he had to avoid. Invisible didn't mean someone wouldn't notice a touch and the people who sought you were looking for magic.

After a couple of near misses that sent your heart rate climbing and had you pressing close to Loki, tucking yourself in as much as possible, you were close to the beach, and escape. You'd whispered an offer to walk again when the two of you had been a little isolated for a moment, but he'd refused with a silent shake of his head and you hadn't spoken again. Once you were on the path back to the orange sandy beach, Loki's arms lost their tension, though he made no move to set you on your feet.

When you were alone once more, the danger behind you as your pursuers kept their eyes on the city where they believed they had you trapped, Loki bent his head to yours, taking your mouth in a kiss both tender and sweet. "I was afraid he would make you shy away from a touch," he murmured against your mouth, his eyes liquid on yours, "even mine. When you came into my arms as you always do, I had to have you." He smiled, a little sheepish, and your heart sighed. "I cannot explain it."

You tilted your head to rest it against his shoulder, looking up at him with your heart in your eyes, adoration naked on your face and making his heart pound. "Sometimes, I can’t refuse you. Even when we're in mortal danger." You smiled back, equally sheepish, but clearly more comfortable with the vulnerability. No matter how much time you'd spent together, how much you'd done together, how much you'd done to be together, Loki could not seem to make his peace with it. You shrugged, acceptance something you'd found along the way. "I can’t explain it either."

"I am grateful," Loki replied with a resigned laugh and a smirk. "If I must have a weakness, I insist that it be mutual." The two of you fell into an easy silence as you reached the top of the cliffs you'd traveled through to get to this planet. Loki took another path down and around, mulling over the events of the evening. Though he hadn't been able to show you everything he'd intended here, the last part had been about making love to you, about making you scream in pleasure.

Though it hadn't been how he had intended, in the luxury suite of one of the hotels, with warm wine to muddy your mind and warm oil massaged into your skin to dazzle your senses, he'd still made you scream his name. The memory gave him that ever so rare sensation of satisfaction and Loki was trying to sear it into his mind so he'd never forget what you sounded like at that moment. A wide, smug smile spread over his face as he considered the fact that he had warm wine and oil back in his personal dimensional palace.

"What are you grinning about?"

The question was soft and amused, rich with love, and hit Loki's ear like honey. He gave in to the emotion and let it shine out of him. "I'm amazed that we didn't get caught. When you screamed my name, I thought they had us."

You tilted your head back to look at his face and burst out laughing at the self-satisfied arrogance all over him. You couldn’t properly poke at him for being proud of himself, too happy by far. You had to admit, you'd never screamed like that before. You tightened your arms to pull yourself close enough to nuzzle his neck with affection as he reached the cliff with the portal.

"I’d tell you to wipe that smug look off your face," you said with a little shake of your head, unsurprised when Loki didn't set you down even now, "but I suppose you have a right to it for once."

Loki grinned wolfishly as he waved his hand at the sigils only you could see, and a portal home opened with a whoosh of sound and a flash of light. "I wonder," he purred, his eyes firing with desire, "do you have to be in mortal danger to climb to such heights?" You gaped at him, your mind racing with the possibilities he was hinting at. "Let's find out."

With that, he moved through the portal to take you to bed. He had new experiments to run.

Part Twenty Coming Soon!!

Taglist:

@lumar014ad @old-enough-to-know-better73 @felicityofbakerstreet @browneyedgirl22 @fashionworld12 @moonknight-s-cumdump @thedistractedagglomeration

#Loki x reader #Loki Odinson x reader #Loki fanfiction #Loki Odinson fanfiction #Loki fanfic #Loki Odinson fanfic #Loki smut #Loki Odinson smut #Marvel fanfiction #Marvel fanfic #MCU fanfiction #MCU fanfic #canon adjacent #series wip #second sight #pantswrites

[amandaoftherosemire]

Second Sight -- Part Eighteen

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU/MCU AU

Pairing: Loki Odinson X fem!Reader

Characters: Loki Odinson

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5,718

Format: Series WIP

Warnings: Language, gambling

Summary: Loki takes you on a long overdue honeymoon on a pleasure planet. You can’t take your eyes off the spectacle while Loki can’t take his eyes off you. Neither of you notice the eyes on you both.

A/N: Since I started this fic years ago, I am going to be rebuilding my taglist with this chapter. If anyone would like to be tagged in future updates, or if you’re tagged in this and want to continue to be, please drop me an ask or a message to let me know. If you don’t want to be tagged, don’t do anything. I’m trying to get a gauge of who, if anyone, is still reading this. I haven’t got any feedback in a while, and the notes on this would offend me if I allowed myself to be offended by numbers, and I’m not sure updating this fic is the best use of my time if no one is reading it.

To be fair, I get it. I’m not even mad. 😉 Loki is doing fun stuff in the series and people are reading those fics, not novel length fics from the Infinity Saga. I don’t intend this to be a guilt trip as much as an attempt to gather information. I have multiple projects in progress (thank you, ADHD), including some original fiction, and as much as I hate to leave a fic unfinished, I also recognize the possibility I’m in the middle of a sunk cost fallacy. Know when to fold ‘em, and all that. Thanks!

<<Part Seventeen here

Second Sight Part Eighteen

Once through the doors and under a short entryway, the room opened into a spectacle that made the lights of the Vegas Strip look understated by comparison. The walls curved away from you to both your left and right, the room an enormous circle made up of multiple tiers. At your feet, a sea of creamy gold-veined stone under a high, high domed ceiling. You stood stunned for a moment, overwhelmed by the size and splendor of everything around you.

You kept your hand tight around Loki’s arm as he escorted you to the middle of the room, the stone stepping gently into a sunken center beneath the soaring ceiling. The top of the dome was three stories above you, where a bright golden light served as the main source of illumination. The golden globe was one of two hung in the sky of an elaborate sea scape mural covering the zenith of the dome.

The other globe was the tumultuous center of a whirling display. Upon closer inspection, the objects that swarmed in streaming patterns in and out of the center of the second sun were some sort of fluttering creature, akin to a butterfly. They fluttered around a core of flapping wings, soaring in swooping streams and waves. However they were incentivized to do so, they followed tight patterns, coalescing into tight clumps before exploding outward like a living pyrotechnic display. Their vibrant colors sent rainbow light scattering and shimmering over the people below.

From that globe came a light snowstorm of some feathery white substance. Though they spun and floated in the air, once they landed on a surface, the tiny flakes disappeared like cotton candy in water. The shimmering light and the light white flurry created a dreamy atmosphere that lifted you up and made you feel euphoric. You looked down at the flakes seeming to seep into your skin.

"A mild intoxicant, my love," Loki said when he saw you examining the little fluffy flecks. He spoke in your ear to be heard over the roar of the crowd and the clangs and bells and beeps and shouts from the tables around you. "As long as you remember that luck is ephemeral, you should be fine."

You grinned at him, taking the warning as it was meant and deliberately tamping down the oddly lucky feeling surging inside you that urged you to take whatever chance looked the most lucrative. To distract yourself, you went back to studying your surroundings, stunned by the pageantry. Loki had shown you opulent when he'd first dragged you into his personal dimensional pocket, but this was lavish walking the edge of gaudy.

Standing in the center of the room, on the burnished old gold carpet so rich and soft it seemed like velvet clover beneath your boots, you examined the enormous pillars of creamy stone that matched the floor. Too big around to fit your arms, they were adorned with more of the fluttering creatures. These glowed golden, their shimmering wings sending the light scattering and making the air itself seem to sparkle.

You were surrounded on all sides by people of all shapes, sizes, colors, limbs, etc. As you took in the spectacular, you tried to come to grips with your boggled mind. A veritable army of beautifully built, violet-skinned, black-haired beauties wearing short black shorts and matching crop tops with tank sleeves wove in and out amongst the tables. As much muscle was on display as possible and each person had plenty of muscle to display. The matching uniforms went with the trays of glasses full of brightly colored liquids, some fizzing, some sparking, some smoking. A frothy pink something with bright green leaves as a garnish caught your eye and sent one of those lucky rushes through you. Once you'd gotten your bearings, you were going to find out what it was and whether it would kill you. The white flakes urged you to go for it.

Looking up, all around you the walls were hung with silk in vibrant jewel tones, contrasting with the old gold of the floors and walls. Each floor above you had its own balcony, like a dress circle in a theatre, but wider and full of more games and people. The entryway you'd come out from under had been the second floor, open to the rest of the room so that each floor could see the dome and its colorful explosions. You wondered what differentiated each floor, though it seemed the main difference was the first floor was much louder than the others.

In every direction you could see boisterous crowds surrounding tables of dice, or spinning wheels and flashing lights, or in one section, a pit of what appeared to be fighting insects, the scantily clad croupier taking bets on which bestingered, hissing monster would kill the other. You deliberately turned away from that part of the casino.

Loki noticed the rejection on your face. "Are you not interested in wagering, my love?" He asked the question in silky tones, hoping that whatever had displeased you could be ignored long enough for him to dazzle you with the delights he'd already planned.

You wrinkled your nose and smiled at him, your back firmly to the hissing insects. You’d concluded that it was best not to see how that particular game ended. Your lips twisted wryly, but the spectacle drew your eyes in a thousand directions at once. "I didn't expect to come down on the side of the terror scorpions." You spoke the words with a wry twist to your lips and your voice, as surprised as anyone to find it to be true. "And I never gamble on games when I don’t know the rules."

Loki glanced at the fighting pits behind you, then laughed along with you. "Never?" He asked it with a skeptical eyebrow raised as he turned to offer you his arm. When you took it with an indulgent eye roll, he led you away from the bugs and toward a table surrounded by a crowd of cheering patrons.

"You are the very rare exception."

Loki lifted your hand from where it rested on his arm and kissed the back lavishly, enjoying you, appreciating your dedication to the evening, no matter the size of the stingers that tried to get in the way. The pits hadn't been here the last time he had, or he might have taken you to a different casino, considering your sensibilities. He didn't understand it, but you had a moral difficulty with blood sports that he would not have forced you to ignore for his sake if he could have helped it. You overlooked so much on his behalf, he hated to add even one more.

"Exactly as I prefer it," he tossed back as he drew you over to a large round fountain, elaborate in both the sprays of water that flashed and sparkled in the golden light, but also in the carving of the statues that sat atop the center plinth. Your eyes widened at the sculpture, both the subject matter and the detail. Like a Bernini, the creatures were so finely carved that the stone flesh seemed to give underneath gripping fingers in an erotic tangle of limbs. 

"I know, dear," you retorted absently, your eyes wide as you watched the lavender water froth and sparkle as golden bubbles popped and fizzed beneath the provocative sculpture. The beauty here was unreasonable, so much so that there were moments you felt dazed by it. Your eyes swept the room, taking in the living light show, the crowded tables, the array of people, and your heart sped until it was pounding and pounding. This wasn't a new experience, a unique kind of panic attack that you experienced at Loki's side. You never knew if your heart was racing in fear or excitement, but his wicked smile always drew you on regardless.

He'd turned that wicked smile on you when he purred, his voice a temptation, "Come, throw some dice." He'd seen your eyes widening and your lips parting and knew the things he'd shared with you had overcome your stunning control. Nothing made him happier than watching your breath speed in response to the wonders he gave to you. "Since it’s a special occasion."

You smiled at him, grateful to have him to focus on. You concentrated on that mischievous grin and took slow, deep breaths. Knowing you were hand in hand with someone like Loki helped you stay calm when the universe was almost too much. Not only was he dangerous under all circumstances, but you also knew how highly he valued you, how careful he really was with you. Aside from the kind of danger that goes hand in hand with adventure, you knew you were safer at his side on an unfamiliar planet than you were when walking alone in an unfamiliar neighborhood in New York.

"Something tells me I shouldn’t give into that line of reasoning," you smirked at him, sliding your arm around his waist and pulling yourself in to burrow into his throat, "or everything will become a ‘special occasion’."

Loki laughed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to squeeze you, exuberant affection bursting out of him like light. You smiled into his face, the sight of his happiness making your throat ache in joy. You loved making him happy like this, especially as so much melancholy had hung on him since you'd met. Grief had dogged his steps for a long time; seeing him look so glad and free made you feel like your heart was full and overflowing.

"Let me tempt you, darling." His joyous face beamed into yours as he enticed you. "Let me prove I can still persuade you to give in to your vices." His head dipped to yours and he nuzzled your mouth, his teeth scraping your bottom lip and making you moan a little, low in your throat. The sound shot straight to his groin, his body impatient for the last item on the evening's schedule. He fought his lust for you, but his hand slid down your spine to your tailbone, pressing you closer to his body the whole way down. "You know how it thrills me," he whispered against your mouth before taking your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.

"I do, yes." You whispered the words back as soon as your lips were free again. Loki was in a surprising mood, one you were only vaguely familiar with. He seemed reckless, but young and wild at the same time. You wondered if he realized how stifling he found impersonating his father, if he knew how much happier he was when he was out in the universe, causing trouble. You gave in, happy to allow him to corrupt you, if only because it pleased him so much.

"If it will truly make you happy to talk me into gambling with your money, I will try." You looked around, and decided on a table with rolling dice, hoping the rules would be at least somewhat similar to any dice games from Earth. Loki gave you a wicked and wholly satisfied smile as he offered you several of the gold wafers that appeared to be the currency here. Taking his hand, you walked towards the table with the most exuberant cheering. "What are we doing here?" You directed the question at Loki as you watched the creature at the end of the table take three dice into a hook and toss them down to the other end of the table. "It kinda looks like craps, except are those eight-sided dice?"

Loki was watching you, not the table. He loved that he could see you trying to figure out the game, though the rules were opaque and the symbols incomprehensible to you. You watched the gameplay, seeking the pattern that would tell you enough about how the game was played for you to participate. "Two are eight-sided," he replied, the joy of having you with him in his world making his heart ache, "the third is twelve." You looked at him when you heard the exhilaration in his tone, a soft smile lifting the corner of your mouth, tempting him. "Why do you ask?"

You could see only happiness and excitement sparkling in his smile, so you shrugged and turned your gaze back to the gaming table in front of you. "I'm figuring the odds." Your eyes narrowed as you answered absently. Because your attention was entirely on the table, you gasped in surprise when Loki pulled you close to wrap his arms around you from behind, burying his face in the curve of your throat. He took your skin gently between his teeth and bit down, goaded past endurance by the look of concentration on your face.

"And you don't know how it excites me," he murmured against your skin, his lips soothing the slight prickle of pain his teeth had left behind. Truthfully, he hadn't known how you would excite him, how having you slip into his world like you belonged there would have him already quivering for you. Only his determination to drive you both to the brink of madness before he gave in prevented him from finding somewhere private to slake this thirst.

Though he couldn't see the smile on your face, the sultry expression came through loud and clear in both the way you pressed back against him, your ass brushing the erection straining at leather behind you, and in your amused voice. "I have an idea," you murmured as you snuggled back into his embrace, tilting your head to give him easier access to your throat.

"Excite me more," he growled before taking advantage of that access to close his teeth around the cord of muscle where your neck met your shoulder. Between his arms tight around you and your own motion to press firmly against his body, the iron bar of his cock snugged against you and taunted you with the reminder of his ever-present desire for you.

Loki's appreciation for the oddest things about you was a source of never-ending delight, something that made you feel exceptional. He loved things about you that you'd always assumed to be normal, or even mediocre, and you could not think of yourself as ordinary when he disagreed, and he so clearly was none of those things.

You watched as a large humanoid placed a stack of gold wafers on one of the pictographs on the table before taking the three dice in his giant hand. "As far as I can tell," you replied as the man tossed the dice down to the other end of the table, snarling when none of the upright pictures on the dice matched those under his wager, "they're trying to match certain combinations, based on their likelihoods." Your voice was shaking slightly, giving away both your laughter at Loki’s playful mood and your arousal at his touch.

"Delectable." Loki's breath was coming faster as he started placing light, brushing kisses over your shoulder, up your neck, smiling against your skin. He breathed into your ear as he fought his own cravings, trying to keep his hands somewhat under control. As you were wearing your ring, the people flowing around you didn't even notice Loki wrapped around his dark bride. He knew they wouldn't notice if he brought you to a climax in the middle of the casino floor. That knowledge was a constant temptation, one he'd never imagined when he'd been making the rings, but thanks to his love for violating rules and boundaries, had turned out to be an unexpected advantage.

"Loki…" Your voice was a warning as his arms had loosened so that he could run his hands over the sides of your body, up from your hips to directly beneath your breasts, pausing there an edgy moment before running back down. The firmness of his hands against you, like he was holding himself in careful check, sent a thrill running through you. His strength combined with his wildness sometimes made your heart race in something closer to anxiety than desire, but the tinge of fear only heightened the experience. A wild part of you loved him because he was dangerous, not in spite of it.

Loki swore, quietly and viciously, as his hands stilled on your hips, his grip tight enough to almost be painful, but carefully restrained. You could feel how he wanted you in the way he held you, but you also felt him deliberately rein himself in. His voice calm, but with an undercurrent of threat that made you shudder in desire, he removed his mouth from your skin and returned to the subject at hand. “That is the most basic of the wagering, yes."

You took a deep breath, aware that Loki was in a more dangerous mood than normal. He taunted and tempted you into madness on a regular day. How much higher would you soar at his suggestion? What depths would you plumb with his encouragement? In this mood, what outrageous deeds would you commit at his side, at his provocation? What wouldn't you risk when he was the prize?

You'd already done far more shocking things with Loki than gambling on dice. You could only be grateful that the evening's entertainments had started with something relatively ordinary. “And how much you win is based on how much and when you bet. But more important is when.”

Loki felt like he couldn't bear to not be touching you, and so he hadn't removed his hands from your hips. At your words, his hands tightened again as he leashed himself against the rising desire. There were moments it frightened him, what he'd done for you, what he would do. You had so much power over him, it could be terrifying. You'd inspired him to such heights, brought him to such lows, it was insufferable how much more he'd become in your hands. The only way he could bear it was that you were equally under his spell. You never used that power over him for anything but pleasure.

He may have been caught, trapped in the endless pools of fey eyes, but you were caught in his gravity, tidal locked with those compelling eyes on him and only him. He was content, or as content as he was capable.

Loki couldn't help himself; he leaned forward and closed his teeth around the nape of your neck. He was finally playing on the edges of the galaxy with you. Dazzling you, thrilling you, overwhelming you, was the priority. "You catch on fast, love," he murmured against your skin, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the back of your shoulders as his hands slowly climbed back up your sides. When you pressed back against him and rubbed yourself against him, he growled, "I could eat you alive."

Your face spread in a smile you hadn't had before you met Loki, something wicked and potent. Knowing that something about this trip had him even more unruly than usual, and that unruliness was expressing itself in lust, gave you a feeling of immense power. You grabbed one of the hands about to slide up to cup your breasts and stepped forward, out of Loki's arms.

"Then I'll start there," you said with a cheeky glance back at Loki, whose pale skin was flushed with desire, eyes glittering and smile wide with sexy menace. You felt cold once your body was no longer in contact with his, but you used your hand in his to pull him with you toward the gaming table. You'd been together long enough that you could see that he was planning to make you pay for teasing him. You'd been teasing him long enough that you’d known that when you’d started.

Well used to this part now, thanks to your sojourns on Earth, you tapped on the arm of one of the beings surrounding the table. The man was seven feet if he was an inch, and covered head to toe in what looked like very uncomfortable gray metal armor, giant pauldrons completing the space marine vibe. When you touched him and murmured, "Excuse me," he jumped a foot in the air and shrieked like a little girl.

Too used to this response to your sudden appearance, you smiled blandly at the giant gaping down at you and asked politely, "May I squeeze in here?"

You didn't know it, but Loki had tweaked the spell in your rings to make your appearance more potent and thus more intimidating. Though he didn't want you to draw undue attention, he still wanted the universe at large to know at a glance how significant you were, even if they couldn't put their finger on why.

You leaned forward and waved to get the attention of the croupier so that he would notice your bet as well. His eyes widened, but he was far better than the giant at your side at hiding his astonishment, years of customer service callousing his ability to feel surprise. After a beat, he shouted, "Got a new player!"

This time you glanced around in surprise when, with a glance from the croupier, the man next to you offered you the dice. You took the dice and looked up in dismay when the croupier then shouted, "Place your bet!"

"I've actually never played before," you said to the shockingly gentle looking man, for all his size and armor. He grinned, revealing a full set of shining silver teeth.

"You'll want to pick a Trieklah,” he replied, pointing at the trios of pictographs matching those on the dice. The giant had a surprisingly warm baritone; if he could carry a tune, he'd have made a fortune on Earth giving Hozier a run for his money. "That's the biggest payout, but the hardest to hit."

"One for each die?" You noticed everyone else around the table betting in threes and wanted to make sure that you needed to do the same. The silver-toothed giant smiled and nodded in encouragement. You played with the stack of wafers in your hands, clicking them together like thin dominoes. You quickly decided on a trio, but as you leaned forward, your necklace swung forward, and a glint of colored light reflected off the center opal. That shimmer directed your eye to a set of three that somehow reminded you of Loki. On impulse, you changed direction and placed your bet on the other rectangle. "Let's see if luck is on my side today."

The giant looked at you, his surprisingly light blue eyes in dark skin piercing. Loki's illusion was complete, and Odof the Merc hadn't survived all these years by being naïve. In addition to Loki’s spells, there was an aura about you that you couldn't hide, an aura that had become more and more apparent the more time you spent with Loki and in the wider universe. Even Loki's illusions couldn't hide what you'd become. "You got lucky eyes," he concluded and added his own bet to yours.

Loki, meanwhile, was standing back, watching you charm a dangerous mercenary with ease, a wide smile on his face. There was something deeply gratifying about the way you moved through the galaxy, with the same smooth ease with which you moved through your own world. He felt validated in his view of your extraordinary gifts, enjoyed seeing the way you gently dominated everything around you.

You cocked your arm back and sent the dice tumbling across the walled table. Luck was with you and the dice rolled onto what looked like purple baize on the three sides you'd picked. With a shocked cheer, you turned and hugged your new friend in the kind of exuberance that comes from an unexpected win.

The sheer, unmitigated pleasure on the giant's face when your arms closed swiftly and awkwardly around his bulky armor made Loki smile in an unfamiliar way. The feeling was sheer, uncomplicated delight, and he wondered that he should so enjoy watching another man go to mush over you. Something about the fierce warrior looking soft and bashful as you grinned and thanked him made Loki happy, though he didn't really understand why.

You collected your winnings, turning your head to laugh back at Loki in delight as you stuffed wafers into your pockets. He grinned wildly back at you, and if the croupier hadn't snagged your attention, you'd have been stunned to see the love he had for you naked on his face.

You turned back and threw three gold wafers on another set of three. Since you'd won last time, you evidently were supposed to retain the dice and roll again, like craps, so you cocked your arm back and sent the dice flying again. This time, however, only one of the dice matched any of the symbols that you'd picked on the board. Two of your wafers were collected by the croupier, but the third was handed back to you to pick another set. This time, the giant explained, you had to pick one that had the symbol that already matched yours, but you would bet again and reroll the remaining two dice.

You grabbed two more wafers and placed your bet on another set that appealed to you, but none of the rectangles of symbols grabbed you as the first wager had. You weren't feeling it, and apparently that showed on your face. The friendly giant set his bet on a different trio with an apologetic look. "No offense, girlie, but I don't think you got it this time."

You rolled again, then cursed when neither of your dice matched your bet. The croupier gave back an eight-sided die and you sent it tumbling, though you could only break even now. As you tossed the last die, you grinned wryly at your new friend and replied, "No offense taken, boyo. I did not have it."

Odof had never had a little thing like you sass him like this. His armor told the world who he was and what he did for a living. Most people gave him a wide berth, but here you were, seemingly harmless, but with the confidence of a goddess. He threw his head back and laughed out loud, certain you had hidden talents.

Boyo, he thought, tickled pink both by the familiarity and the sparkling smile you'd sent him as you'd said it. "I like you!" He shouted the words, then stopped the croupier when he started to pass the dice to the person to your left. "Let her roll again. The luck's back on her." He winked at you, and you grinned back, delighted with your social success in the wider universe. "Bet again, I'll wager with you."

The lady to your left was a shocking gold, with an oddly superior aura, but she handed the dice to you with a smile. Absently toying with your necklace, another flash of light drew your eye to a rectangle that held script-like symbols. They reminded you of the sigils that surrounded the portal from your linen closet to Loki's pocket dimension. You put nine wafers down in a stack and grinned recklessly at the giant.

The giant gave another boisterous roaring laugh, then threw down a matching stack of gold. As you looked back, you caught Loki's eye and winked, grinning cheekily. Loki thought you breathtaking, playing on the edge of chance and making friends with dangerous mercenaries. He saw more clearly than ever why he'd never been able to permanently walk away from you. He'd found his match in you, his mate, and it was the greatest treasure he'd ever found. Staying with you had become his highest priority. His revenge against his father and the petty usurpation of the throne had become his raison d'etre when his mother died. At some point since he'd met you, holding fast to you had overcome that focus, that need.

He could bear to have all the glories of Asgard torn away, as long as he was still at your side when it was over.

You turned back to the table, unaware of the fireworks of emotion that were going off inside of Loki, to match the bursting explosions of color above his head. You took a deep breath, shook your fist and cocked your arm, sending the dice tumbling over the table.

The table erupted into cheers, delighted and surprised to find that you'd done it again, you'd pulled off another Trieklah. Loki came over, a bag in his hand that he'd seemed to pull from nothing. Once you'd piled your winnings into the bag, a considerable amount after two rare hits of luck, you thanked the lady who'd given you the dice. She was delighted, as she'd hit on a side bet and won a decent amount herself.

Turning to the giant, you patted his arm and smiled warmly up into his oddly sweet face. "Thank you for your help!"

He smiled back and patted your hand on his arm, his hand a bear paw in comparison to yours. "My pleasure, little lady."

You enjoyed being called little, and lady, and your smile took on a sweetness you hadn't intended, but the giant found utterly beguiling. If you hadn't had an Asgardian escort at your side, he might have suggested you hang around, let him get to know you better. His face fell, however, at your next words. "Break a leg, friend."

His expression surprised you. Someone who looked like him seemed to be the sort who would enjoy a more violent idiom. You smiled reassuringly and explained, "That's how we wish someone good fortune on my world."

The giant's face relaxed, and he smiled again, thinking this was proof that you were more dangerous than you appeared. "You must live on a brutal world."

With one more squeeze to his forearm, you laughed up at him. Loki had taken your hand when you'd turned to him to walk away from the table and was leading you away as you tossed back. "You have no idea."

Loki drew you away from the table, grinning at your good luck and the warm happiness that animated you. Bubbling over with excitement, you smugly handed back the stake he'd fronted you. He tried to refuse, but you insisted, then taunted him that you didn't even need him now, because you could buy your own drinks.

The two of you explored the rest of the building, but you refused to play any of the other games, certain your luck had run out and uninterested in giving any of your money back to the casino now that you had it in your possession. Loki thought you were adorable, if a bit perverse, but he remained indulgent, especially when you told him you wanted to remember the night as nothing but fun and triumph.

Once he'd shown you the indulgence of greed, the two of you left the casino and wandered freely through the streets. Loki knew where he was going, however, and pulled you through a door in a side street into a small serving room. The two of you sat at one of the few tables beside the long bar and proceeded to eat the best food you'd ever tasted in your life. You couldn't explain why it was so much better than anything you'd had before, but you didn't question it. The why was unimportant when you were plowing through a pastry the likes of which you'd never had before. Perfectly flaky, the filling was creamy and fruity and smooth, and you’d swear your taste buds were in overdrive. By the time you were done, you were in love with Witter, the lovely purple man who'd made and personally served you the dessert that you were crazy about.

Loki pulled you away from the laughing Witter, telling him to ignore you, that you couldn't marry him because you were already married, dammit. Once you were in the alley, he pulled you into a dark alcove to kiss you, to remind you that he could give you so much more than pastry, no matter how delicious. His body shielding yours, he'd taken advantage of your skirt to bring you to a quick but shuddering climax with his fingers. His eyes burned as he watched you put yourself back together and he sucked your flavor from his fingertips. Knowing he had so much more planned for you, instead of easing the clenching in your core, the orgasm had only whetted your appetite for more.

Loki led you on into the night, you'd assumed to a room where he could unleash the sexual tension that had been building all evening. When he pulled you into what looked like a dive bar, you looked around in surprise and confusion. Accompanying Loki had taught you it was best to go along with him, as he usually had a reason for what he did, even if his reason was overemotional or hyperbolic. With a cocky smile, you shrugged and asked what the frothy pink thing was called and whether anything in it would kill you before swaggering up to the bar to get the tentacled bartender's attention.

Loki wanted you like air, was driving himself mad by waiting to have you alone. You'd blossomed in his life, at his side, as he'd known you would. Still, he’d never known how you’d shine, or how he’d feel about it.

As you'd walked away from the gaming table, however, Odof the Merc had turned back to the game, but for some reason he was seeing flashes of light that he wasn't used to. Like midges on the edges of his vision, the little flashes would draw his eye to particular Trieklahs. When he followed the flashes, his luck seemed better than when he didn't, so he kept following them. When he decided to quit, an hour later, he was up over five thousand credits and was ready to spend it on sex and sauce. Odof was thinking and appreciating that you must have thrown him some luck, whether you intended to or not and he was not certain either way, as he stumbled into the casino's biggest bar, looking for some companionship.

Four guards, each his size and armed, prepared to deal with him if he wanted to make trouble, surrounded him before he made it to the bar. Odof sighed. Luck never stuck around for long.

Part Nineteen here>>

Taglist (open):

@hellzzzbelle @targaryenvampireslayer @cheekygeek05 @bibliophile1773 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @miraclesoflove @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @destiel-is--endgame @irritated-bisexual @peaceinourtime82 @badassbaker @walkingtravesty97 @fashionworld12 @readermia @fukyouthink @felicityofbakerstreet @lumar014ad @thedistractedagglomeration

#loki odinson x reader #loki x reader #loki odinson x you #loki x you #loki odinson fanfiction #loki odinson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #canon adjacent #series wip #pantswrites

[amandaoftherosemire]

A Cowtown Puppet Show Saved My Life

TW: Grief, Suicidal Ideation, Death

I needed to take a minute and say something about pop culture in general and MST3K and Stardew Valley specifically.

Culture matters. Whatever you want to call it: entertainment, pop culture, escapism, storytelling, literature, music, doesn't matter. The art we create and share does matter. Like, save-a-life MATTERS. Let me tell you a story.

When I was seventeen, a few months into my freshmen year in college, two thousand miles away from my home and family, my father died unexpectedly of heart failure in the middle of the night. I left school, and went home, because my family needed me, my mother needed me. I do not regret it.

I didn't cope well with my father's death, as to be expected, but my mother almost didn't survive the grief. We held together, as best we could, and both of us made it through the pain to the other side. Grief is heavy, something you drag with you, always pulling you down toward oblivion. After awhile oblivion begins to look inviting. Mom felt the pull more than I did. She leaned on me, which added to her grief, as she felt like a burden, and I did the best I could to carry all of us, her and I and our dragging grief. This manifested in intractable insomnia. I couldn't sleep, couldn't get my mind to stop eating itself long enough to rest. Unless.

I would put on old VHS tapes of episodes of Mystery Science Theater 3000 and fall asleep to the sound of bad movies and good jokes. The sound of Mike Nelson, Bill Corbett, Kevin Murphy, Joel Robinson and Trace Beaulieu lulled me to sleep for years. Their voices were soothing, I'd seen the episodes so many times that I knew them by heart, and this was an escape, a place I could go that wasn't my own mind, where all the weight was gone. On the Satellite of Love, I could forget that I was barely an adult and yet having to deal with a myriad of adult things, like getting work to help pay the mortgage, or get my mother to a doctor before she did anything drastic.

When she got better, stronger, Mom carried me more times than I can count, so please do not think that I bear any resentment for the suddenness of my transition into adulthood. I understand what happened to her and have long since made my peace. My father was the love of her life; it was no wonder that his loss took the legs out from under her. She never remarried, never even dated again, despite my encouragement, would only say that it would be unfair to ask someone else to live up to my father's memory.

When she died, I buried her with him, as she asked.

When she died, MST3K didn't work the same way. The escape I found this time was in Stardew Valley, a lovely place where I could fall in love with the sweet redhead with a love for books and children. I built a life on Winedrunk Farm, with Penny, and our children Calliope and Julius. It was a lovely place, where I didn't have to think about probate attorneys and an apartment full of the things a person collects in their life and leaves to their loved ones to sort through when they die. The things that carry the barbs of a thousand memories ready to stab the unwary.

Sometimes we need someplace to be that is not ourselves, and our shared stories give us that. Someone else's world doesn't carry those barbs, cannot stab us in the same way. Without someone else's world there would be no escape from ourselves. I would not have survived the grief of losing either of my parents if I had not found these worlds. I NEEDED to escape my grief, and a silly satellite with a mad scientist and bad movies, or a rural town where I have made EVERYONE love me, is exactly what I needed.

I started this as an essay on the importance of even "pop" art, but I ended up just wanting to put my gratitude out into the world. To all the people who've made the things I love, but especially the creators and writers of MST3K and ConcerncedApe, the developer of Stardew Valley, whoever they are, for saving my life. It sounds dramatic, but it's true. I'm here because of a cowtown puppet show and a farming sim video game. Maybe that doesn't matter, really, in the big scheme, but it matters to me, so thank you.

Thank you to all the artists, who save lives, and never even know it.

#tw: grief #tw: suicidal ideation #tw: death #manda rambles #personal #pantswrites #mst3k #mystery science theater 3000 #stardew valley #pop culture

[amandaoftherosemire]

Second Sight -- Part Sixteen

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU/MCU AU

Pairing: Loki Odinson X fem!Reader

Characters: Loki Odinson, ONBC Audra the Merchant

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5,456

Format: Series WIP

Warnings: Language, intimidation,

Summary: Able to see through Loki’s magic no matter what spells he weaves, he continues his quest to discover the source of your mysterious talents. In the meantime, he obtains a gift for you.

A/N: The muse is upon me! I swear, it started raining and the little forest swamp creature that lives in my soul started singing and dancing and plot bunnies are bouncing all over The Rosemire right now. I am being very good, and mostly staying on task, and I will continue to do so. Let us hope that the weather stays bad so I can keep writing. 😊

<<Part Fifteen here

Second Sight Part Sixteen

“Iron?!” Loki was almost shouting, trying to hide his fear in strident irritation. He sneered down at the cube in his hand with disdain, fighting the urge to throw it across the room. Instead, he turned that sneer on you, though his eyes worried over your pale face and trembling hands. “This has to be some kind of joke.”

You looked up from your spot on the couch where you’d collapsed when he’d placed the new item in your hand. The cube had fallen immediately to the floor when you’d jerked away in pain, leaving behind a square of red, raw skin on your palm where the metal had brushed against you. Annoyed by the vague accusation on his face, you shot back with as much venom as you could muster, though the fading weakness that had grabbed you when you took the metal cube left you still breathless, “Well, it’s clearly not all iron, just this shit.”

Loki’s brows furrowed in concentration, wondering if this was why it had taken so long for him to discover the source of the necklace’s danger to you. “What do you mean?”

“I live in New York.” You took a deep breath and sat up, the strength coming back to both your spine and your voice the longer you were away from the shockingly painful cube. You looked at your hand, somewhat surprised that the cold of the metal had done so much damage with so little contact. “Steel is everywhere. If iron from Earth did this to me, I would have noticed.”

Loki considered that as he placed the cube back on his desk, resisting the impulse to rush to your side to stroke and cuddle. The paleness of your face, the suddenness with which you’d lost both your color and your balance when he’d placed the cube in your hand was still fresh in his mind. Despite the cold fear that had settled into the pit of his stomach at the sight, his knee-jerk fear of the vulnerability kept him in place.

But when he turned back to see you looking at your own still trembling hands, he couldn’t stop himself from crossing to sit next to you. Sliding his arm behind your back, he placed his hand on your hip and pulled you close, needing to cradle your delicate form against him. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder, and his heart fluttered in reaction to the trust you so clearly placed in him, whether he deserved it or not.

“This was iron mined on Nidavellir,” he said softly, his voice low and thoughtful, as he settled back into the sofa with you snuggled close. “I wonder if iron from any other worlds would have the same effect, or if it’s specific to iron from that realm.”

You’d gotten your strength back quickly after Loki had taken the cube from you, but at his words you felt tired. “More tests?” You sighed the question as you leaned more heavily against him, already anticipating more boredom and possibly more of the terrifying lethargy. To your consternation, the discovery that it was something so very mundane only added to the mystery.

“Darling, the Dwarves’ metalwork is fairly common on Asgard. If Nidavellir iron is dangerous to you, I need to know before I take you there.” Loki smiled at the waspish edge to your tone as his arm tightened around you. He answered gently, as he could also hear the exhaustion under the frustration. “I need all possible information.”

“More tests.” You tried not to express any of the whining that was echoing in your mind, but some petulance leaked out. Loki tried and failed to hide the indulgence he felt in response. He would never describe you as ill-tempered or given to complaint, especially when he considered all you'd endured at his hands, and with surprising aplomb. Which is why he found you so unexpectedly adorable in this irritable humor.

“Y/N.” He said your name with a wealth of amused affection, his tone golden with devotion. In response to the warmth you heard there, you lifted your head to look into emerald eyes that blazed with love. His free hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the line of your jaw with an aching reverence that brought tears to your throat. “You’re the most important person in the universe to me. I will do whatever I must to keep you safe by my side.” His head dipped, his mouth closing over yours in a kiss rich with both adoration and passion. When he lifted his head, those bright green eyes were dark with desire, though his mouth twisted wryly. “Even annoy you to no end, if that is what must be done.”

Your heart was racing as you laughed, the rush of warmth accompanied by the rest of your strength returning to you. Grinning wickedly, you pushed him back against the couch and threw your leg over his lap in one smooth move until you were straddling him, your hands sliding around his chest. Once there, you snuggled in close, sighing in contentment when his arms came up to wrap securely around you. Loki rested his cheek on the top of your head and held you tight against him, needing the comfort as much as you clearly did.

Once you'd taken a minute to rest on the even ebb and flow of his breath as you pulled yourself together, you lifted up to smile wryly into his face. The sight of your eyes, deep and dark with love, caught and held Loki once again, squeezed his heart in a vise of joy. "Dearest one," he murmured, his voice an ache, "don't you know you're my salvation?"

Gently, you leaned forward to kiss him again, sinking in to heat and softness with a hum of pleasure. "Sweet talker,” you answered against his mouth, making his grin flash at you, quick and wild.

Fortunately, the tests took far less time than you'd been dreading. Loki had been satisfied when the only samples of iron to cause such a terrifying reaction were from Nidavellir, even after he'd had you test another twenty or so more. He'd brought you a sampling from all the realms he thought he might want to visit with you and no others caused the sapping weakness or closing darkness. Unfortunately, this meant that Loki also had to make certain that you weren't weak to anything else from Nidavellir. If not for Loki's clever additions to the game you devised, you'd have lost all patience with him.

Finally, finally, Loki professed himself satisfied that Nidavellir iron seemed to be the only substance that caused a reaction. He'd brought you every substance mined from that dying star that he could get his hands on, and none had affected you as the iron did. All of the samples that had any Nidavellir iron continued to weaken you as soon as it came in contact with your skin, but only iron did so.

He kept testing, however, worried he was missing something, because Eirtri did not allow free access to the rarest materials used by his smiths. Loki had not yet thought of a way to get a sample of their rarest and most powerful mineral, but you weren't likely to come in contact with it. As long as his brother and Mjolnir stayed away from Asgard, you should be safe, but if Thor returned, he knew he'd have bigger problems than your reaction to Uru. Regardless, he knew you'd have to risk it, because he could think of nothing more to check.

Once he’d done all he could to assure himself of your general safety, the two of you left his sanctuary to attend to real life. You went back to Earth to go through a normal few days, going to work, having lunch with Emily, restocking your refrigerator, etc. Loki also returned to his routine, though his mundanities were politics and court intrigue. On top of the routine of ruling, there had been rumblings of discontent in some of the other realms. His attention had been entirely on you of late, and he had plenty of Asgardian problems he’d been ignoring for too long already.

He knew he should be focusing on those problems, those rumblings, instead of his favorite obsession, but there were still questions to be asked and answers to be sought. Those questions and their answers were why he found himself back on Alfheim, skulking a few feet away from the entrance to an alley, his mind clear and his blood cold, as he waited for your merchant friend to pass by. He hoped to collect both information and something that would make you smile.

Sometimes, you smiled slow and lovely, and your face would light up with love and astonished gratitude and his heart would pound in wild delight at the sight of you. He wanted a gift that would set off that beautiful expression and had devised a way to obtain it, and perhaps some information on the metals of Nidavellir he didn’t already know.

Loki had infinite patience when on the hunt, but he was having to fight boredom by the time the merchant came walking down the street, their gait quick and eyes scanning for threats. Loki smiled a little, familiar with prey that he'd already roughed up a little. Good.

Scaring someone into doing what he wanted was always easier if they were already afraid of him.

In a flash of movement, Loki's arm snaked out and he grabbed the merchant by the collar, dragging them into the shadows of the alleyway. They yelped in surprised alarm as Loki shimmered into sight, cloaked in the illusion he'd worn when purchasing the necklace he carried in his pocket. For now, he smiled broadly at the gawking person he'd backed against smooth cream-colored stone.

"We have to stop meeting like this." Loki tried joking a little, though he didn't give the other being room to dart away. The merchant was gasping in terror, and he wasn't interested in them being so afraid this early in the negotiations. He wanted them scared, not pissing themself.

“No." The word was firm despite the fear widening their eyes and trembling around their mouth. "No. No. No." Every word was punctuated by a shake of the head, either in denial of the sight of Loki grinning fiercely in their face or a preemptive denial of whatever it was he wanted. "Not you again," they stated as though their insistence would make it so.

Loki tried for charming, expecting the chilly welcome. He smiled pleasantly, trying to hit somewhere between somewhat dangerous and somewhat threatening. "Me again."

"I’ve told you everything, I swear!" Their eyes darted in all directions as they sought the best avenue for a getaway. They started inching sideways towards the alley entrance, retreat paramount in their mind. They wanted nothing to do with the Asgardian, had had more than enough already.

Loki immediately noticed the merchant trying to leave and placed one hand on the wall next to their head, leaning in to cut off any escape while still appearing casual and minimally threatening. "Relax, merchant." Loki released the fistful of the merchant's shirt he still held and smoothed the fabric. "I’m here as a patron, not a brute." He smiled, wide and winning, and tilted his head quizzically. "Did you ever tell me your name?"

The other being was breathing quickly, both from the startlement of being yanked so unceremoniously into the alleyway and the sight of the person who did so. Though Loki wore another form, he'd shown them his true nature on their last meeting. "Audra," they answered automatically, then shook their head, impatient to get away from him, "but I do not need any further business from you, sir. Excuse me." With cold eyes and a smooth expression, the merchant attempted to duck under Loki's arm to flee the scene.

He smiled inwardly, amused by the other being's attempts to leave. Moving quickly, he dropped his arm and blocked their way once again. "Please, Audra, you must hear my offer before you refuse." They shot him as vicious a glare as they were capable, the ethereal beauty that marked the inhabitants of Alfheim blunting much of the effect. Audra the Merchant didn't do menacing very well. Loki, the God of Mischief, did. "And since I have had to go to immense trouble due to your oversight, it’s really the least you can do."

"My oversight?!" Audra drew themself up to their fullest height, eye to eye with Loki and angry enough to stand up to Loki's attempt to bully them. "How dare you?!"

"The bauble you sold me was made with steel based on Nidavellir iron." Loki's voice was as hard as that steel as he made the statement, accusation hanging on every word. On the next question, his voice went smooth as silk, the tone he used when about to pull a knife. "Why did you not warn my lady of the risk?"

Perhaps, if he'd been speaking as himself, the merchant would have cowered in terror, his reputation doing much of the heavy lifting. As it was, Audra had been in trade for a very long time, and Loki was not the first creature to hold a weapon on them. "How is that relevant?" They asked the question with insulted confusion. "Only the Fair Folk are so sensitive to the Dwarves' metals! I might have concerned myself if your lady had the endless eyes of the Folk, but you’re both clearly Asgardian!" By the time they were done, they were gesturing in agitation, the next thing to fury in their culture.

Loki barely noticed, too distracted by the unexpected blow the merchant had just delivered. The Folk! He felt the information hit him with the impact of a fist to the face. He’d never considered such an answer. The Folk had been seen nowhere in several centuries and nowhere near Midgard in many more centuries than Loki had been alive. The very idea seemed impossible, and yet he couldn’t deny that it would explain much about you.

There was no way you knew, however. Loki didn’t trust easily, but he trusted that you would have told him had you simply been one of the Fair Folk hiding on Earth. At this point in your relationship, he could be certain of that much at least. If this was the answer to your spectacular abilities, it was only a small part of the larger mystery.

You could easily be one of the many people on Earth to belong to their extended bloodline, but their power would be so diluted as to be imperceptible, if any had made it through the millennia intact at all. The things about you that made you stand out from the rest of your people, however, had many things in common with what little he knew of the Folk, starting with your exceptional eyes.

The merchant was starting to look at Loki strangely, wondering what had left him silent in shock. He shook himself out of the trance into which he'd fallen, forcing his racing thoughts aside, determined to explore the idea further when he had leisure, and focused on the deal he was attempting to strike.

"Nevertheless," he said with soft menace, "my lady was harmed." He smiled with cold amusement at the sight of the other person swallowing quickly, trying to hide their fear. "And you can make it up to her by exchanging the necklace for one that will not irritate her skin."

Audra narrowed their eyes in dark suspicion, but they felt a stir of hope at the thought that they could perhaps bargain a truce with the persistent Asgardian. "Will that rid me of you once and for all?"

Loki smiled fully, only barely concealing his triumph. Negotiations had begun. He’d have what he wanted soon enough. "Once my lady is safe and satisfied, you'll never see me again."

Audra's eyes were a deep, dark blue, like a shaded pond in an ancient forest. Despite their serene beauty, the distrust in their gaze was chilling. They answered Loki slowly, doubt in every word. "There's no harm in listening, I suppose." Mostly, they were looking for the shortest way out of this situation with a minimum of violence, especially to them. "Did you have any particular piece in mind?"

Loki smiled widely, certain now that he would have what he wanted before the end of the conversation. All he had to do was offer more than the merchant expected, make them feel churlish for refusing. "I have the necklace you sold me. I will happily return it," with that, Loki pulled the necklace from his pocket and offered it to Audra with a grin designed to charm, "AND add its price again to that I already paid." Audra reached out automatically and allowed Loki to drop the pendant into their palm. "In return, your siblings will make my lady a replica of this necklace, without ANY metals from Nidavellir."

Audra looked down at the pendant, noting all of the places where the offending steel had been used. Mostly their siblings had used the steel in places of joining and in the chain, steel made from Nidavellir iron stronger and more flexible than other steels. The changes should be easily made. "That's it?" they asked, afraid to believe that it would be this easy to get rid of Loki. 

"That's all." Loki shrugged and said, by way of explanation for his behavior, "My lady truly does love the necklace, was heartbroken that she could not wear it."

Audra could easily believe that the Asgardian would go to such lengths to please you. His vehemence on their last meeting had made that apparent. They weren't certain about much when it came to the two of you, but your genuine love for one another was crystal clear. Even before you’d been threatened, Loki had watched you with eyes that burned with desire, had watched all others with eyes that burned with warning. His possessive, protective aura had wrapped around you and told anyone who could see you that he would be excessively dangerous in your defense. It was no surprise that he would go to unreasonable effort and expense to give you whatever you wanted.

"And if we make your lady happy, you'll go away forever?"

"I’ll never show my face on Alfheim ever again."

The god and the merchant stared each other down for a long moment. Loki was trying to hide that he already knew what their answer was, even if they did not. They would agree, sooner or later, Loki was confident of that. Audra was searching his face for deception, a lifetime of barter and trade with the many peoples of the galaxy helping them to discern such things in many situations. Still, it made sense to take precautions. "I must discuss this with my siblings." They wanted time and space to think about whether they wanted to be any further involved with such a vicious creature. "Come to my stall tomorrow and I will give you my answer."

They stretched out the hand still holding the necklace, not wanting to take it when an agreement had not yet been reached, but Loki refused with a shake of his head. "Keep it," he said, more than happy to be amenable now that he could see it would be most effective at getting him what he wanted. "As a show of good faith."

Audra kept their eyes narrowed on his as they attempted to uncover any hidden layers to Loki's meaning. Warily, they nodded shortly and pulled their hand back to drop the necklace into their satchel. Loki could see they were about to try to make a break for it, so he threw one last concession on the pile to manipulate the other being into agreeing to help him.

"I would beg your pardon for my behavior both today and on our last meeting." Loki shrugged and stepped back, giving the merchant plenty of room to leave. "I hope you'll forgive my rudeness, and that we can come to an agreement."

Audra edged toward the alley entrance as they cautiously looked Loki over. "You are very fond of the lady," they said neutrally, not wanting to provoke him before their escape was complete. The light that seemed to beam out of Loki's face stopped them in their tracks.

The merchant's words had hit Loki as so unbelievably absurd that he couldn't help but laugh. The word "fond" was so banal, so trivial a word for what he felt for you, the heights he'd scale for you, the depths to which he'd sink. Whether he wanted it or not, his face lit up with the glory of what lived inside him for you, if only for an instant. An instant was all that was needed to soften Audra's resentment a little.

"Indeed," Loki replied, his face and voice still warm from laughter and that instant of pure honesty that had raced across his face. "I am very fond of my lady."

Audra had made it to the street without a movement from Loki and they relaxed a little with the relief that it appeared they were going to finally get away from him. They paused a moment to smile wanly back in his direction, hoping that some minor pleasantness would ensure their escape. "I will try to remember that when your knife at my throat comes to mind." They sighed a little, reluctantly, but willing to give in a little to put this particular transaction behind them. "I am likely to suggest my siblings take the commission, for your lady's sake."

Loki didn't do a great job of hiding his triumph, but it was enough that Audra opted to overlook it rather than rescind their agreement. Whatever made it through to his face, his insides burned with a gloating exultation. Still, he didn't have the new necklace in hand yet, and so he carefully modulated his voice as he answered. "Your understanding is deeply appreciated."

The next day, Loki leaned on Audra's stall and watched the people in the square flit to and fro. The merchant's siblings had promised to have the replacement necklace returned before Audra closed for the day, so Loki had opted to wait and watch, collecting information while he loitered.

"Tell me something, friend," he said as he casually watched the eyes that flicked toward him and then quickly away. Another customer had just moved on from Audra's wares without purchasing anything, and he got the feeling he was interfering in their business. Since he wasn't himself, he wondered why. "What’s being said about Asgard in the other realms?"

Audra's eyes flicked toward him, then to the recent customer's retreating back. Their voice stripped of all emotion, they answered slowly. "I don’t know what you mean."

Loki started to wheedle, trying to cajole the information from them, wondering why they didn't want to share. "Come now." He grinned winningly and lowered his voice, his lean in exuding a warm conspiratorial camaraderie. "Even I’ve heard whispers. You’re in the middle of the flow of gossip."

Audra looked at him out of the side of their eye, carefully weighing his insistence against his casual attitude. They wondered if he was afraid of something and if so, what he was afraid of. "What’s your interest, friend?" They dropped the last word a little drolly, caught between a cross of insult and amusement at his familiar and studiously relaxed demeanor.

"I'm interested in anything that may be a danger to my lady." Loki gave the merchant a glance dripping with condescending dismay. "You know that."

The corner of Audra's lips twitched, and they flicked an eyebrow in acknowledgement. Loki could see that he had finally begun to charm them, that they were giving in and letting him pull them in the direction he wanted them to go. He had gone to extra effort, but he had wanted the merchant fully invested in making certain you were satisfied with the gift. It was important to him that you want for nothing in his power to give you, that nothing but the best grace his dark bride. 

"There are rumors," Audra answered, figuring they might as well gossip as long as the Asgardian was going to chase away all their customers. Something about this Asgardian seemed dangerous even if he personally hadn't threatened one’s life, and he only made it worse by trying to seem harmless. "There always are. Sometimes, they're even true." They laughed a little, remembering the tale that Prince Thor had renounced the throne for the love of a Midgardian woman. They'd been certain that was the tallest of tall tales, but they'd had it confirmed a dozen times over. "I've heard it said that since the death of dear Queen Frigga, and less dear Prince Loki, there is no song left in Asgard. Other whispers are wilder, that Odin is no longer on Asgard, and that with Thor and Heimdall gone, the throne and all the realms are vulnerable."

Loki felt his body run cold as he disconnected from everything but his survival instincts. When most threatened, he set feeling aside, turned his back on sentiment, because to give into feeling was to invite destruction. He deliberately considered the situation, weighing his words with utmost care before speaking, afraid to give anything away. This was all information he would need to consider when he had time and space in which to do so. He would focus on collecting as much data as he could in the meantime, as Audra had already been a fount of knowledge, clueing him in to several unknown threats.

"Interesting," he said slowly, as though he were seriously considering the possibility and not cursing himself for being too easily distracted by a pair of pretty eyes. That they were the deepest, most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen didn't excuse his negligence. “I can tell you,” he continued in a devil's advocate tone, "Odin is there. I’ve seen him."

Audra shrugged, uninterested in debating the point. They were merely sharing the information they had acquired, not taking any particular side. It seemed unfathomable that anyone could being posing as Odin, the difficulty of the task alone making it implausible, but there were oddities here and there that left those on the fringes, those with no love for Asgard or her King, with a plethora of questions and no way to find the answers. "There have been problems on other realms that Odin would have attended to in another time. That he does not invites speculation."

Loki had to concede the point, but he could hardly explain. Whereas he could mimic his father’s form, use illusions to give the surface impression of Odin, he did not have Odin’s powers and could not ride out in battle pretending to be his father. He had opted to create the illusion of deep sadness and exhaustion brought about by grief in order to make broaching the subject uncomfortable for any who tried. So far, it had worked to help him avoid questions, but rumors had evidently festered.

“Who is this supposed impostor?” Loki was personally pleased with the timbre he’d managed to place on the words, just a touch of casual curiosity without any emotion that might attract attention. He glanced around the marketplace as though the conversation was only partially holding his interest.

“There’s very little agreement on that subject.” Audra smiled widely at a couple with bright pink skin walking by and began rearranging the bracelets on their bed of fine black velvet, hoping the movement would catch the light and their eyes. “If Loki were alive, he’d be the most likely suspect.”

Loki barked out a laugh at this, well-prepared for his own name to enter the conversation sooner or later. Frankly, he’d have been insulted if it hadn’t. Still, prepared meant the laugh came out as a kind of dark, resentful amusement. He didn’t need Audra wondering why he’d be proud of being the first person anyone thought of when mischief was afoot.

“Perhaps he is alive, and no one noticed,” he shot back recklessly, his smile wicked and his posture mocking. “That seems a very Loki thing to do.”

Audra tilted a conspiratorial glance his way before turning to the couple whose eyes they’d caught with the shimmering bracelets. “Doesn’t it?” They replied in a low voice as the couple browsed, but stayed close in case they could make a sale. “But years of quiet melancholy? No mischief? No tricks? No conquest? That doesn’t fit.”

With that Audra stepped away to take care of the Krylorians, only returning after they’d sold them two bracelets, a choker, and a tiara. They were much more relaxed when they came back to where Loki was lounging, watching the people pass by, listening to their conversations. “What are they saying on Asgard?” They asked the question as they slid onto a stool in the corner of the stall.

Loki braced an arm on the counter and leaned in to confide softly, “That Odin has fallen into melancholy since the death of the Queen, that he is tired of death and war.” He saw the sympathy that passed over the merchant’s face and knew this story would find its way into the world through them. “That without Thor or Heimdall, Odin is the only one standing as our protector.”

He told Audra the truth, certain they had already heard what he was sharing. Loki occasionally moved invisibly amongst his people, collecting gossip as he’d done here. A habit he’d picked up in his youth, he’d found it immensely useful in all his mischief, and especially so after he’d started impersonating his father.

Audra sighed, worried for the Nine Realms if Odin was weakened. It didn’t seem possible, but he’d lost so much in such a short time, it also felt inevitable. As they spoke, they spotted one of their siblings coming their way and a smile began to bloom on their face despite the worry in the words. “That seems more precarious than it used to.”

Loki scowled internally, annoyed to hear the sentiment but both unable and unwilling to retort. He opted, instead, to echo the merchant’s words back to them. “Doesn't it?”

After a couple of quick, civilly pleasant introductions, Loki was fully satisfied to find the pendant a perfect copy of the original and, based on the lightness of the piece in comparison, stripped of any iron at all. The siblings had replaced all of the metal with pure Alfheim metals and alloys. The substitutions had been an incredibly simple thing, and the siblings had been able to make the new necklace in only a matter of hours.

“Well, now.” Loki grinned at Audra and bowed deeply, excited to get back to you with his surprise. He’d had a great deal of fun threatening and manipulating, but it was time he moved on. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you. As per our agreement, I will never do so again.” Straightening up from the bow, he grinned wickedly. “Enjoy your me-free existence, friend.”

Audra acknowledged the well wishes with a regal nod, their lips twitching in amusement. They’d started to enjoy Loki, against their will. “Thank you, I will.” As he turned to leave, they called out, one last concession. “Give my best to your lady!”

He shot them one last grin and then, to Audra’s consternation, he appeared to disappear into the crowd. No matter how they strained, they couldn’t see where he went, as though he’d vanished into thin air.

Once he'd exhausted the probabilities and then the less-than-probabilities, Loki set about adding extra layers of protection to you, in addition to the shields he'd already placed in your wedding ring. He also took the replacement pendant and added a couple dozen spells to keep you hidden, shielded, and dangerous when threatened. He hadn't told you what each spell on the pendant did, but several spells were designed to react offensively should anyone dare to threaten a hair on your head. You'd given yourself to him, as he'd given himself to you; he would protect what was his with any nasty trick at his disposal.

When he could think of nothing else, could find no further layers of protection to add to the blankets already shielding you, he stopped preparing you for the wider universe and set about preparing the wider universe for you.

Part Seventeen here>>

Taglist:

@hellzzzbelle @cheekygeek05 @bibliophile1773 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @miraclesoflove @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @destiel-is--endgame @irritated-bisexual @peaceinourtime82 @badassbaker @walkingtravesty97 @fashionworld12 @readermia @fukyouthink @felicityofbakerstreet @lumar014ad @thedistractedagglomeration

#loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #pantswrites #second sight #series wip

[amandaoftherosemire]

Second Sight -- Part Fourteen

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU/MCU AU

Pairing: Loki Odinson X fem!Reader

Characters: Loki Odinson, Unnamed Merchant

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4,302

Format: Series WIP

Warnings: Language, fluff, comedic mentions of violence.

Summary: The kind of person who likes to keep your head down, you know you’ve made a huge mistake when you lock eyes with the god come to life that had attempted to take over your world. You find out you were right when Loki snatches you off the street. Able to see through his magic no matter what spells he weaves, he first tried to contain you, then to understand you. When he had to leave you, he discovered he was in love with you. Now that he’s found you, he will find a way to stay by your side.

A/N: This year has already shown that it is perfectly willing to continue the precedent set by the previous two years and has sucked on toast. I have the best of intentions, but that doesn’t get the writing done. But the new laptop is a dream, so I’m back, babes!! For anyone who still cares what happens, I’m still plugging away at it. I won’t stop, because I am a completionist and I cannot help myself. I hope the story is worth the wait. 😉

<<Part Thirteen here

Second Sight Part Fourteen

Once he had the beginnings of a protective illusion cast around you, or more accurately, the ring, Loki began by testing its limits on Midgard. If the rings didn't work there, it would hardly matter as you would be unlikely to draw any undue attention. Even in a worst-case scenario, your world held little to fear. Not only could he easily protect you from the vast majority of dangers Earth had to offer, what little remained a threat could be handily deceived for however long it would take to get you safely out of a bad situation.

Fortunately, the rings worked exactly as intended. Not only was he able to touch you without warping the illusions around himself, but you also drew no attention unless you wanted to. More than once he’d been amused to see you deliberately attract someone’s notice only to startle whomever with your sudden unexpected appearance, the illusions hiding you seemingly perfect.

After several successful forays amongst your people, invisible until the two of you chose otherwise, he started your adventures with a trip to one of the safer parts of the Nine Realms. He was most familiar with Asgard's neighbors and felt he could protect you best where he could get you back to his near-timeless palace in an instant.

As he stood next to you atop the spire in the middle of one of Alfheim's central markets, his heart nearly beat out of his chest at the look on your face. Your lips were parted in wonder, your bottomless eyes wide as he'd ever seen as you stared out over a bright city bathed in shimmering light. Thanks to the soft glow from the star shining in a baby blue sky, dazzling light shimmered through pale pink puffy clouds. The clean bright city beneath that light only added to the stunning vista.

Once he'd shown you the beauty of the city from on high, he took you down to the market to look around. The people there were as beautiful as their world, and you were reluctant to draw their attention to yourself. Despite all Loki had done to make you feel safe and beautiful, you were a little intimidated to stand on your first inhabited alien planet, amongst some of the most glorious people you'd ever seen. Though they were humanoid, they weren't human, that much was clear. No human had skin so smooth, so clear; no human moved with such willowy grace.

Loki tucked your hand through his arm and escorted you around the market, stopping at every stall so that you could look your fill at everything. Despite everything that you’d done at Loki’s side, you were still hesitant to walk amongst such beautiful people. To your relief, however, no one seemed to notice you. Alfheim's citizens had, thankfully, ignored your presence as completely as your own people had once you had Loki's ring on your finger.

He'd brought you to Alfheim first, knowing it to be a place so peaceful he had long since gotten impossibly bored. If he was going to test the illusions, the best place to do so was Alfheim, an entire world dedicated to minding one's own business. Watching the lovely, serene people of Alfheim look over your head as though you weren't there, he breathed a sigh of relief that the rings he'd made were continuing to work as intended. Despite his tendency towards recklessness, he would not take your safety for granted.

More enthralled with the look of wonder on your face than he was in the familiar sights around him, he noticed when the awe in your deep eyes slipped for a moment into avarice as you scanned the wares at the nearest stall. Though you controlled the emotion quickly and your eyes moved on swiftly, Loki followed your gaze, tracing it back to the necklace that had sparked your longing.

He had every intention of fulfilling all of your desires on this first sojourn into the wider universe. Not only did he want to dazzle you with wonders for the sheer enjoyment of making you happy, he also wanted to whet your appetite for the truly spectacular things he was ready to show you, wanted you hungry enough to follow him across the galaxy despite the fact that he could not be trusted.

"If you'd like the necklace, my dear," he purred in low tones, for your ears only, "it's yours." When your head snapped towards him in surprise, he smiled with an indulgent warmth. "I'd like you to have a remembrance of your first new realm."

You looked back at the necklace in question, trying to push down the greed that rose up at the sight. A heartbreakingly beautiful object, the pendant was an intricately shaped and engraved five-petaled flower, set with carefully polished emerald green gems. A shimmering light in the depths of the jewels reminded you of the fire found in opals, though no opal found on Earth had the same rippling glow. In the center of the five petals sat a larger gem, this one like a black opal, but with a bright nebula pulsing in the center. Both pendant and chain were made from some unfamiliar silver colored metal with a shimmering mother-of-pearl undertone that matched the fire in the gem in the center of the pendant.

You smiled gently at Loki, flattered that he wanted to give you such a gift, but ready to demur. "A bit extravagant for a souvenir," you answered, your lips twisting wryly.

His lips against your ear, he murmured with a dark pride, "Not for the consort of a god king." Loki lifted his hand to cup your throat, his thumb gliding over the line of your jaw, a sensation so often a prelude to seduction your body warmed automatically in response. He felt your body sway toward him and resisted the urge to pull you closer, to draw you into the shadows for stolen kisses. He wanted to see you bared but for the gems he showered upon you, draped in precious metals he'd provided, giving you everything he thought you deserved. He loved, and where he loved, he wanted to indulge with luxury.

The sound of his voice echoing in your ear sent shivers down your spine. 'Consort of a god-king' sounded both glorious and insane. Being loved by Loki was a wild and exhilarating thing, but it could overwhelm at moments. "Usurper." You muttered the correction with a crooked smile, a teasing tone to incite his adversarial nature as well as his general desire for you.

Loki rolled his eyes and slid his arm around your waist to pull you close and keep your conversation private, in case the rings' spell wasn't perfect. Sound had been a problem from the beginning. "Usurper is still king." His voice held a note of determination that matched the long-fingered hand that spread to your hip and squeezed gently. Loki would fight to keep that which he had stolen, whether that be a usurped throne or a dark bride. When you snorted, the slightly possessive edge to his touch gentled instantly into adoration.

"Ask them how much." He whispered the words in your ear, indicating the elfin creature before you. The people here had an androgynous beauty, their skin tone variable, but all defined by a shimmering glow, as though the light scattered across the surface of their skin differently. Likewise, you’d seen many shades of long, almond eyes, but all glowed with an inner light that lit up their face. Most intimidating of all, everyone seemed to possess a wisdom and grace that you did not share. This idea filled you with a fear borne not of threat, but of awe.

Based on how Loki spoke to everyone, it seemed at the least impolite to call attention to anyone's gender, if they even had any concept of such. You quickly gave up on your world’s binaries, finding them impractical here, and stopped trying to categorize anyone. You found that there was an immense amount of relief in doing so.

"You ask them," you whispered saucily back, trying to hide that you were afraid to speak to any of these gorgeous creatures, despite the kindness you thought you could see in their features. You were painfully scared to have them see your mundanity and react with derision, or worse, disgust. Without conscious thought, your body pressed against his in need of comfort. The movement was slight enough to be barely perceptible, but Loki was highly attuned to such tiny expressions of emotion, especially from you.

"No, darling." Loki pulled you closer as he spoke, his voice was gentle. "I'd like to see how they react when you draw their attention." He had to know if the illusion he'd attached to the ring around your finger was complete, if the spell worked in all ways; if those of Alfheim didn't notice that you were human even as they spoke to you, the more likely he would be safe taking you to Asgard.

Once he was certain you were as safe as he could make you, once the two of you could travel freely, the mischief could truly begin.

"Won't they wonder what a human is doing here?" You stayed pressed close, but fear was giving way to curiosity at the reassuring tone and soft touch. You weren't foolish enough to trust him with everything, but one thing you believed without doubt was that he cared about your well-being. He wouldn't put you at even a slight risk for no reason.

"We're about to find out if they see a Midgardian, or an Asgardian."

You pulled back in surprise to look into Loki's face, but he was smiling genially at the stall's vendor, who'd tilted their head in a way that communicated both polite inquiry and invitation. You knew you couldn't trust your perceptions of behavior across human cultures, let alone on other planets, but you would swear you were looking at a generally benevolent being. You considered. "Why would they see an Asgardian?"

He shook his head at the vendor, though his smile didn't fade. "One of the spells I added to the ring. I'd like to see if it works." Loki's voice was starting to take on a touch of impatience, like he'd expected you to do what you were told without question.

You could not imagine what would have given him that impression. "And if it doesn't?"

Loki let out a huffing laugh of exasperation, then snapped his eyes to yours in one of his serpentine flashes of movement. He laughed when he saw your raised brows and unsmiling suspicion and swooped in to snatch a kiss from your mouth. When he pulled back, you had the beginning of a reluctant smile on your face, unable to resist his obvious pleasure. "The stall-keeper will be confused," he replied, the hand squeezing at your hip expressing his restrained desire even as his lips continued to brush yours, "but we should be able to get out of here before I have to answer any questions."

Though your mind was fogging in lust, you could see the vendor in your peripheral vision. As soon as Loki had shifted his focus to you, the stall-keeper had become immediately distracted by something else in the opposite direction. You didn't know if that was polite behavior here or if Loki's ring was working as intended, but it did lean in his direction. Still…

"To make sure I have this clear, you would like me to draw attention to myself to test if your spell worked on me, when your spells never work on me, and your escape plan is 'make a run for it' if it all goes to shit?"

Loki's eyes narrowed on yours, but the appreciation behind the mock irritation on his face told you everything. He loved that you did not trust him, knew him to be remorseless in his capacity for deceit, but joined him on his wild escapades anyway. You were loyal, but that didn't mean you went along without question or complaint.

He was holding on to the laughter, but his lips were twitching madly at the level-eyed lack of amusement all over you. Loki loved when you looked at him like this, loved the little thrill that came from being in just a little bit of trouble. "Essentially, yes."

Your brows raised, you stared at him for a long, long moment, mulling it over, considering the odds, calculating how much he was lying about, well, everything. You sniffed, then shrugged. "Okay. Just making sure." Without another word to Loki, you turned with a smile for the vendor. "Excuse me," you said, raising your voice as you focused your attention on them, the way Loki had taught you during your trips to Earth, "may I ask the price of this piece?"

Loki watched you step from the protective circle of his arm and thought you impossibly valiant. Like his brother before him, he'd discovered a treasure of his own on Midgard. He didn’t understand what it was about your odd little planet that it held such riches, that it drew such interest, but he could not deny your power or your value. Though you may be brave enough to step onto an alien planet and speak to one of the inhabitants with nothing more to shield you than his partially tested illusions, he was not brave enough to let you do so alone. He stepped forward to take your arm, pulling your hand through the crook of his elbow to place it upon his forearm.

The stall-keeper turned toward you, their surprise at your appearance clear in the wide eyes in their pretty face. They looked puzzled for a moment, but the instinct to make a sale took over quickly, brushing it all aside. "Oh! Of course!" They moved forward eagerly, delighted to have a customer. "Apologies, my lady, my mind must have been wandering," they said, shaking away the thought that you had appeared out of nowhere. Even if you had, it was Asgardian business and none of theirs. They'd like to keep it that way. With a smile, they picked up the necklace that had caught your eye, holding the chain so that the gems could catch the light. "This piece is lovely, isn't it? A handcrafted work of art, designed and created by my siblings, it has twenty-seven--"

"The lady asked the price of the necklace, not its life story." Loki sounded both bored and irritated, a tone you'd heard a thousand times. Somehow, it still managed to aggravate you. Scowling at him, you jostled him in admonishment for interrupting so rudely.

The other being didn't flinch at Loki's ill-manners, but you couldn't tell if that was because they were unfazed or unsurprised by them. "Two-thousand crowns, sir," they answered, their voice carefully neutral, and then offered no further commentary.

Loki opened his mouth and you saw his intent in his expression. You moved quickly to stop him, reaching out to place your hand on his cheek and draw his eyes to yours. Unable to help himself, the gentle touch of your hand unfailingly irresistible, he looked into your face and once again got caught in your bottomless eyes.

"First," you said when his eyes were on yours and his mouth was closed, "stop being rude." His grin flashed at you and out of the corner of your eye, you saw the corners of the vendor's mouth twitch and recognized humor and appreciation in the movement, for all the alien features and world. "Second, you can't spend--"

Loki cut that off with a careless gesture, uninterested in protestations of cost or excess. He'd noticed this habit of yours on Midgard and was even less likely to indulge it here, where he had an entire world's treasury at his fingertips. "A remembrance, darling." He lifted your hand from his arm and brought it to his lips. "It will please me to see you wear it."

His voice was velvet soft, his eyes bright with love and desire, and the wonder that you could love such a creature, that such a being should love you in return, blew through you like a storm, as it sometimes did. The wonder was inexorably twined with the love and left you breathless in the face of it. The twinkle that winked out at you from hot emerald made you laugh, and that breathlessness was audible in the huffing sound that came out of you. "Extravagant." The admonishment was weak, and everyone could hear it.

"Only what you deserve," he protested, his smile warm and wicked. "I'll shower you in gems until you believe it."

The stall-keeper tried to ignore the byplay, eavesdropping considered rude in their culture, but they couldn't help but see and hear the genuine affection between you. The Asgardian was arrogant and rude, but they thought you perfectly lovely and pleasant. Feeling guilty for inflating the price in response to the way Loki had treated them, they cleared their throat. "If it will please my lady," they said, smoothly, as though they simply wanted to make a sale, "we could discuss the price."

Mischievous delight fired in Loki's eyes and only your hastily placed hand over his mouth prevented whatever he was going to say next. It didn't matter what it was, you knew you didn't want to hear it. "Please don't get him started," you said with a warm smile for the vendor as Loki sulked next to you. "You are kind to offer," you went on, ignoring your companion, trying to charm the alien being in front of you, "but I'll agree to the asking price to keep him quiet."

The other creature's face moved in ways that looked exactly like a human trying to hold back laughter. Based on the still sullen god next to you and his muttered, "Ruining my fun," you concluded you were correct that their facial expression indicated concealed humor. When Loki tossed them a small bag that sang with the jingle of coins as the vendor caught it, you could see that the transaction was moving forward, and peace was likely to reign as long as money was changing hands.

Feeling safe enough to tease Loki, even standing on a foreign planet surrounded by alien beings, you laughed in exhilaration, flushed with success. "I'd like to do something else besides watch you argue with someone all day." You were shocked by your daring, awed by the vista that spread out before you now that you'd placed your foot upon the path. "I haven't forgotten how you ruined that trip to Toronto."

Loki could see the wild elation filling you up, your skin prickling, your heart pounding with the same ecstasy that took him in the moments he felt the most alive, the most free. He could see you basking in the first taste of real freedom you'd ever been given and realized he was hard as steel. He couldn't wait to make love to you. "That woman--" he began, playing with you, wanting to keep the tempest alive in your eyes.

"Would you like to wear it, my lady?" The interruption was timely, as Loki had no real interest in rehashing his behavior in Toronto, but he couldn't resist an argument when you started one.

You replied with a radiant smile, appreciating the stall-keeper's timing. They seemed to be assisting you in keeping the upper hand with Loki and you could swear you were relating to one another, conspiring against him and his bad manners. "Yes, I think I would."

The vendor lifted the necklace from its display, unclasping it in some way that you couldn't see; one moment the chain was connected, the next separated. You stepped forward, intending to take the necklace, but Loki took your arm to gently restrain you.

"Let me, my love." He took the necklace from the stall-keeper, lifting it as he nodded at you to turn around. You smiled slyly at him as you turned your back to him, allowing him to lift the necklace over your head. His fingers brushed over the skin at the nape of your neck as he clasped the chain, his breath whispering over your ear as he whispered, "You are perfection." When your hand flew up of its own volition to touch the pendant, Loki smiled fully for the first time at the vendor. "Thank you, friend," he said, and the other being truly understood how besotted the Asgardian was with his lady.

My pleasure," they replied, the warmth they were exuding spreading to encompass Loki, too. "I like to see my siblings' work on those it suits." To Loki's lack of surprise, you'd charmed the other creature quickly and with minimal effort; he was merely benefitting from your glow when they smiled at both of you this time. "It looks like they made it for you, lady."

"Thank you." You breathed the words, the chain and pendant unexpectedly heavy. Though it looked delicate, as light as air, the chain had a weight that made you feel bound. It was making you a little light-headed. Your fingers fluttered at the pendant, the metal cool against your skin even as the gems warmed. Unsure, but not wanting to draw attention to it, you smiled brightly. "I feel beautiful wearing it."

Your hand dropped to Loki's arm, and he could feel your distress in the tightness of your grip, the heaviness of your body against him. Concerned, he took as much of your weight as he could without revealing your weakness. He nodded a farewell to the stall-keeper, who was still happy with a successful sale, then turned his smile to you. "That's because you're beautiful, darling, but it is a pretty thing."

The last he said mostly for the vendor's benefit, wanting the two of you to be only as memorable as any other pleasant transaction, but no more. In the meantime, he was slipping his arm around your waist to take more of your weight. "Do you want more, my love?" he asked out loud, but then whispered in your ear, "Are you alright?"

You leaned into him, to portray just another couple in love, unsure how long before the ring's cloak would once again take effect. "I could be persuaded," you flirted, but then looked into his face with the first hints of alarm as weakness overtook your limbs, "but I need to sit a minute."

Loki scooped you into his arms as he walked away from the market into an alleyway where he could slip between the shadows and come out somewhere else. You tucked your head into the crook between his neck and his shoulder, letting him take you where he would. Your arms were weak, but you tried to lift your hand to scrabble at the chain, working to remove the necklace, certain it was the source of this mysterious heaviness in your body.

The two of you slipped out of the shadows into the meadow where you'd started your trip to Alfheim. The clearing was awash in pink and yellow flowers that reminded you of pansies with their wide, flat petals and almost face-like patterns. Now that you were alone, Loki helped you sit amongst them. His face was a mask as he moved, pulling a green velvet blanket from nothing.

"I don't want to take you from Alfheim until I know what's wrong, dearest." He spoke the words tightly, with a dark fury laced with worry, as he picked you up from the bed of flowers where he'd gently placed you and moved your limp body to the blanket he'd prepared for you. With a flick of his wrist, he put a pillow under your head, limp on your neck.

You tried to gesture that you wanted the necklace removed, but you'd lost the ability to move your arms. You could still feel your body, you were simply too weak to move. With an enormous effort you rasped out, "Necklace. Please."

"I wondered," he said, his face cold as stone as his hands went to the clasp behind your neck. You would swear you saw fear in his eyes despite his outward calm and that frightened you more than the closing blackness. You did your best to smile at him in reassurance, certain he'd have you safe again in another moment.

Loki saw the trembling at the corners of your lips, and his heart squeezed with love and admiration for your strength and bravery. He leaned down and took your lips as his fingers found the clasp and the chain fell from around your neck. His hand caught the pendant and ripped it from your throat, hurling it to the ground. You immediately felt lighter in response, your arms coming up to wrap around him, needing the comfort of his body against yours.

His heart pounding in fear and desire and relief, he came down next to you, cradling your body against his. He kissed you all over your face, his breath still coming fast. When he gave you a chance to speak, you breathed, "Well, that was close," still feeling the effect of whatever the necklace had done.

"A mere trifle," he replied, and if his voice shook slightly, he was ignoring that fact. He huffed out a laugh. Now that your arms were tight around him, he could relax back into his carefree attitude. He was faking most of it; a deep ember of anger burned inside of him. He would find out how and why the necklace hurt you, and if necessary, take revenge on your behalf. He would fight tooth and nail any attempt to take you from him, or him from you.  "At least you're never boring, my love.”

Part Fifteen here>>

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#loki odinson x reader #loki x reader #loki odinson fanfiction #loki odinson fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #second sight #pantswrites

[amandaoftherosemire]

Second Sight -- Part Seventeen

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU/MCU AU

Pairing: Loki Odinson X fem!Reader

Characters: Loki Odinson

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4,385

Format: Series WIP

Warnings: Language

Summary: Loki takes you on a long overdue honeymoon. On another world, he shows you wonders like none before. During your adventures in the wider universe you see a whole new side of him.

A/N: I don’t know if it’s the weather or what, but I’m doing pretty good these days. I’m steadily working away at Second Sight here, and I’ve had plot bunnies popping up all over. I’m just putting post-its on their heads for now because I am committed to completing this story. It’s so annoying that knowing what happens next doesn’t mean anything if I don’t get the words down to explain it to anyone else. Can you guys believe they don’t simply appear without any effort on my part? Insulting.

<<Part Sixteen here

Second Sight Part Seventeen

Your heart already beating fast in anticipation, you opened the front door to your apartment to the sound of Loki cackling in dark triumph. The sight of him there on your couch was incongruous, the head to toe black and green leather contrasting sharply with the mundanity of an IKEA love seat. Though you were exceedingly excited to finally be accompanying Loki into the more dangerous parts of the galaxy, you couldn’t help but worry that you might appear equally mundane amongst the sights that suited him better.

Not that you could dwell on the idea when his eyes snapped to you and heated with desire. He'd been absent for a few days while he arranged this trip to some new planet whose name you'd forgotten, if he’d ever bothered to tell you, but whose delights Loki had already promised would be beyond your wildest dreams. He had only given you hints of the hedonistic pleasures you had waiting for you, but you knew he was plotting to astound you. Your already racing heart seemed to leap in your chest when he stood quickly and crossed to you in a burst of enthusiasm.

"What are you laughing at?" A smile was tugging at the corner of your mouth as you hung your purse on the hook by the door and dropped your keys in the little bowl on the table underneath it. You couldn't help it; he was at his most light-hearted and carefree when he laughed with such wild enjoyment. You knew he was also at his most dangerous, but you thought it was likely this side of him that had made you fall in love in the first place.

Loki's eyes were sparkling and his grin flashing wickedly as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His mouth found yours and took you into a long, slow, sweet kiss. Ever since he'd come back into your life, he'd greeted you like this after any absence longer than a few hours. Never the sort to fawn, he still made you feel like the most loved and desired woman in the universe when he kissed you as though relieved to see you again, every time he saw you again.

Your lips were parted in surprise when his met them and the taste of him had your eyes fluttering closed as you let him fold you close. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hummed in pleasure as you leaned into his chest.

"Finally," he said when he released your lips. "I thought you'd never get here." He was tempted, as he always was, to drag you back into the space between moments where he could make love to you at his leisure. If he hadn’t already made plans to drown you in sensation on a pleasure planet, he would have given in.

"I missed you, too," you replied drily before drawing his mouth back to yours to kiss him again, adoring him. You could practically feel him vibrating in excitement, the energy of his exuberant mood passing from his lips to yours. You pulled away to laugh. "I take it you're ready to go."

"I am," Loki grinned back at you, his eyes shining with glee as he glanced back at the television, "though I was unusually entertained by Midgard today." After snooping through your things, trying to occupy himself while he waited for you to get home, he'd turned on the TV. He'd been absently flipping channels when he'd come upon a broadcast of a conflict happening on the other side of your world. He'd stopped because he recognized the combatants.

"Ooh, do tell." You rested your head on his shoulder as you fluttered your lashes at him and spoke in a tone acidly sweet. "I love it when you get condescending about my homeworld."

Loki laughed and took your hand to pull you toward the hallway and the portal behind the linen closet door. You pulled back to lock the front door. Since you’d be traveling the cosmos, not lingering in between time and space as you usually did, you wanted to secure the place before you left.

"You know how much I enjoy setting my enemies against one another." Loki let you step away to turn off the lights he’d left on in the kitchen and turned back to the news broadcast still playing softly in the background.

"You've told me. Many times." You lifted your eyes briefly to the heavens in an affectionately resigned kind of way as you flipped the switch and turned back to where Loki was smiling malevolently at the screen.

"I enjoy it almost as much when they start tearing at each other with no assistance from me." He lifted his head to grin at you, his face bright with vicious cheer. There were moments when you remembered he wasn't simply the dangerously pretty prince from another world who'd set your personal world on its head. He was also the villain of the piece, a wicked creature with terrifying appetites.

Why it took everything you had to drag your eyes from his cruel pleasure to look at the television you'd never be able to explain. You knew that you should find this side of him frightening, that the darkness that lurked beneath the charm and swagger should give you pause, but instead you found yourself wanting to make love to him, to balance on the edge of chaos with a creature that could tear you and everything you loved to shreds. That he possessed not only the power but the capacity to do terrible things, but you trusted him to never do them to you, made loving him like an extreme sport.

Your heart raced harder the more evil he looked. You weren't proud of it, but you wouldn't lie to yourself.

Distracted by the sultry warmth pooling in your lower body at the thought of all the wicked things he'd do to you if you asked him, it took you a moment to realize you were watching the various members of the Avengers destroy an airport tarmac in a fight with one another. "Shit," you said, your eyes widening in surprise when what you were looking at truly sank in. "There were rumors Captain America was refusing to sign the Sokovia Accords, but this is nuts."

Feeling like the conflict playing out on the screen was an auspicious omen for tonight's mischief, he pulled you away from the screen, stopping only when you resisted long enough to grab the remote and turn off the TV. "This was inevitable," he gloated, already pleased with his luck and the evening debauchery hadn't even begun. He considered not even cheating when he took you to the gaming tables, his mood was already so high. "I'm simply pleased with my fortune that I was here to witness it."

"You are so unbelievably petty." You shook your head at him as you passed the linen closet to go into your bedroom. He'd turned on the lights in every room of the apartment. "I can't believe you're still holding a grudge. You tried to take over the Earth; they stopped you." Once you'd turned the light out in your bathroom, you stopped only to reach into the bedroom and flip that light off as well. "Let it go."

"How dare they defy my will?" he retorted with a mock glare that did a terrible job of covering his amusement. He tugged you into his arms in the doorway of your bedroom, the sight of the bed giving him thoughts. Temptation was something he was always terrible at resisting, and you were especially tempting when you were teasing him.

"You know how humans are," you retorted with a challenging grin that took Loki's breath. He wondered at the bottomless depths he found in your eyes even as his heart skipped in joy at the sight of fun and mischief sparkling on your face. You lifted your face for his kiss, sighing out a laugh.

"I adore you." He said the words right before he took your mouth in another long, warm kiss. Before he could give in to temptation and lose himself in your warm body, the soft love that cloaked you when he took you in his arms, he took a step back. He kept hold of your hand, however, unwilling to be parted from you. "Come, I long to drown in your eyes in the light of a turquoise sunset."

"That is oddly specific."

Loki pulled you into motion once again, pulling you back toward the portal to his palace where the rest of the preparations for the evening were waiting. "You'll understand soon, once we've left your deary world behind. I'm impatient to show my dark bride all the wonders she deserves."

He grinned, malice sparkling over his face as he drew you to a halt at the open closet door, turning with you at his side. In a practiced move, the two of you stepped through the portal in unison, the many, many times you'd escaped together into his palace creating muscle memory. Once on the other side, you resisted the urge to drag him off to bed, pushed to the edge by the sinister cast to his features. At the heart of it all, you were in love with a criminal. You knew you should worry that you didn't care.

You kept your hands to yourself, at least for the moment, well aware that Loki planned for this first trip to be one of wild delights. You would be shocked if you didn't end the evening well-loved into a deep and comfortable sleep if not fully fucked into a boneless heap.

"Stop talking shit about my planet. You're the one who invaded." You teased him as you walked into the bedroom and began to strip. You needed to change into clothing that wouldn't draw attention at your destination. "You could be a little less condescending about something you obviously covet." Standing in nothing but your bra and underwear, you sneered at him before grabbing the outfit you'd already selected and left draped across the bed when you'd last passed through in preparation for tonight.

Loki watched you shimmy into the emerald green dress with eyes that burned despite the malicious good-humor that animated him. The only thing stopping him from tumbling you back onto the bed and satiating all of this jittery energy was the knowledge that he would have plenty of time to make love to you later, after he'd dazzled all your other senses first. He stayed where he was, leaning in the doorway while he waited for you to finish getting ready.

"Do you have everything?" He asked the question as you walked to the mirror hanging on the wall next to the door where he stood and straightened the dress until it sat properly around your chest and hips. The dress was made of a stretchy yet plush fabric that molded to your body comfortably and with a flattering skim over your curves, somehow without clinging to you. The fabric was something you'd never seen before, something like silk, but also like Lycra with hints of velour, and yet not quite like any of those. Whatever it was, it fit you easily and flattered your body in a way that left you feeling both sexy and secure.

The sleeves were long, but they belled out satisfyingly at the cuffs, where a stripe of deep raven black about an inch wide contrasted with the gem tone of the rest of the dress. The same strip of color accented the boat neck collar and the asymmetrical hem. The pendant Loki had gone to such trouble to replace rested between your breasts and shone with rich beauty. You couldn't be certain about anything when stepping into the wider universe at Loki's side. But by the heat in his eyes and the glow of appreciation in his smile, you could be confident in doing so.

You'd spent some time manipulating the spell on your closet by actively wishing for some bike shorts that would cover your ass in the likely event that you and Loki would need to make a speedy getaway, but also melt away in the likely event that the evening's delights proved too much and Loki made love to you half-clothed in a semi-private place. It wouldn’t be the first time for either.

To your delight, your closet had come through and the shorts under your dress were silky smooth and fastened closed with snaps at the hip, something easily removed if necessary. You needed the little extra protection as the skirt was asymmetrical, long in back, nearly sweeping the floor but cut off above your knees in the front.

To go with the emerald dress, you stepped into soft, over-the-knee leather boots in coal that matched the stripes of color at your cuffs and collar. Only the glint of silver buckles marching up the outside of each broke up the velvety black. You'd opted for the boots because they worked perfectly with the hemline of your dress, but also because they too would come in handy in a 'run for it' moment. You knew Loki too well to assume everything would go to plan.

"You've got your necklace, I see," Loki continued to nag you, despite your serene façade in the face of his fretting. "But what about your ring? Your bracelet and your knife?" Though he'd seen you grab everything, he wanted to instill in you the habit of checking for each of the items you'd need to walk safely through the wider universe. 

"Oh my god!" You rolled your eyes and laughed as you turned toward him, showing him the knife strapped to your thigh with the hands wearing your ring and your bracelet. Unconcerned about the rest of your appearance beyond what you'd already done as only Loki would see your true face, you held out your hand with a taunting smile to go with your retort. "Yes, mom, I have everything. Can we go before you make me put on a coat because it's cold out in space?"

With a sharp tug, you were in his arms and his mouth was taking yours in a warm, happy kiss, his bright mood beaming out of him. The moment had taken him, his three best loves, revenge, mischief, and you, coming together in a dark thrill. A long kiss later, he lifted his head and looked at you, his face soft. His eyes sparkling with affection, the mischievous chuckles that had bubbled in your throat during the kiss forced him to clamp down on his baser urges, the bed behind you still painfully tempting. But he knew that if he took you to bed now, the two of you wouldn't be leaving again any time soon.

He'd waited more than long enough to take you on a real adventure. Instead of backing you into the bedroom, he stepped back, lifting your hand to his lips as he led you back into the study toward the portal he'd already set for this evening's entertainment. At the feeling of your hand trembling ever so slightly in his, he pulled you close and murmured smugly. "I don't think a coat is necessary." With an arrogant grin and a wave of his hand, a portal to a vista the likes of which you'd never seen opened in the far wall. "I do not doubt my ability to keep you warm."

You were having a difficult time believing your eyes. The journey began when you stepped out of the portal in a cliff face on a beach the likes of which you'd never seen. The sand was a soft peach, as fine as sugar. The waves gently lapping at that technicolor shore were equally vibrant, a wild violet that took your breath. The lavender foam that fizzed at your feet made you want to reach out to see if it felt like water from your world. Overhead, puffy pale pink clouds floated across orange skies fading to teal at the horizon.

You stood on those soft sands, the crash of those vivid waves echoing oddly in your ears, and stared out at the stunning view. Your heart was pounding so hard you felt like you'd lost your breath and only the feel of Loki taking your hand in his could begin to break through the trance you'd fallen into. You glanced to your right and caught your breath at the sight of his profile under the soft warm light.

Something about the diffuse light of a pair of far-off suns coming through those pink clouds hit his face differently, made him look younger. You wondered if this was what he'd looked like before he'd discovered the truth about himself and his world turned upside down. When he turned and looked at you, a sweet smile on his face, you fell in love with him all over again.

Loki started to walk along the water, pulling you into step next to him with the hand he had wrapped around yours. You were caught in the myriad sensory experiences bombarding you, like listening to the odd sound of the waves as they pounded the shore. The inside of your nose wrinkled at the scent of strange seas, your eyes dizzied by the eccentric swoops of winged creatures crying overhead as they flew across the sky. Even the air rested on your skin in a peculiar way, as though the atmosphere was heavier, or the gravity of the world wasn’t quite the same as you were used to.

"What do you think, love?" Loki was deeply gratified to see you greedily drinking in everything around you. Your eyes were wide, your breathing fast, your hand holding tightly to his, and the knowledge that he had once again dazzled those bottomless eyes satisfied him in a way little ever had.

You tore your eyes from the gradation of peach skies growing steadily darker as the horizon grew more and more blue as the suns fell toward the sea. You did not understand how such colors were possible, but you also could not deny the sight was breathtaking. The perfection of Loki's features was only highlighted by the soft light coming from those spectacular skies and you couldn't be certain he wasn't even more magnificent than the natural beauty surrounding you.

"I knew you were going to show me something beautiful," you breathed, pulling him to a halt with your hand in his to look him full in the face. "I didn't know it would be you." You let go of his hand to slide your arms around his neck and pull him close for a slow, warm kiss. For a moment, you remembered your life before you'd met him, and the juxtaposition between your life then and now made you a little dizzy.

Loki's eyes had closed when your lips met his, the joy of the feeling making him feel younger than he had since before an ill-fated trip to Jotunheim. So much had happened since that horrible day, so much he'd come to regret over the years, but finding you was a rare bright moment in that time. Being able to share the wider universe with you brought him unmatched joy. Caught in your eyes, he smiled at you with all the wonder you inspired.

"The eyes of the Fey." He hadn't intended to say the words aloud, but they came out of his mouth in a murmur as he marveled at the reflection of those glorious skies in the bottomless pools of your eyes. Under that soft and shimmering light, he could see even more clearly how extraordinary you were, was amazed that he could have ever overlooked you. He didn't know if you had changed, or if you had changed him, not that it mattered in the end.

Loki had been studying but had found no evidence that the Folk had made it back to Midgard in the last few thousand years. Wherever your endless eyes came from, they were too powerful and potent to come from so far back in your ancestry. In addition, even if you could trace your lineage to the Folk, it would not explain all your oddities. Your immunity to his magic was consistent with what he could discover about them, but not your ability to see its symbols and sigils.

"I'm sorry?" A frown line appeared between your brows, confused by the softly spoken words.

Loki didn’t resist the urge to kiss away the small line, not wanting even the hint of distress to cross your face on this evening. He hadn't told you of his conversation with the merchant on Alfheim, keeping his own counsel a long-established habit. As he'd already started the conversation, however, no matter how inadvertent, he wouldn't lie to you now. "Something Audra said when I exchanged your necklace." The eyes in question narrowed on his face, noting the amount of time you'd spent together since he'd brought back the replacement necklace, annoyed that this was the first you were hearing of it. "About the Fair Folk."

"Fair Folk." The words had your head tilting to the side, your annoyance forgotten in the curiosity stoked by his answers. You were fascinated, both by the information and the fact that you weren't having to pry it out of him for once. "Like… fairies? Tinker Bell?"

"No," Loki threw his head back and laughed, then turned and began walking up the beach towards the lights of a dense and vibrant city, "like The Morrigan.” He had a careful itinerary in mind, designed to ease you into the exotic and exciting. He wanted to give you the night of your life, delirious in the moment, like a man on his honeymoon.

"Isn't that a Celtic goddess?” You would be only mildly surprised to find that yet another set of gods was based on real beings. Based on the strange cults that cropped up from time to time, it hadn't seemed to you that humans needed even a grain of truth to create a god to worship, but the facts didn’t lie. Perhaps the ones that stood the test of time, the ones whose names were remembered despite the centuries, were more likely to be real.

"I don't know." Loki's brow furrowed as he considered the likelihood that stories about the Folk might have made their way through the centuries in modified form as his own peoples' visits to Earth had shaped northern European mythology. "Did Midgardians worship them as gods also?" He thought perhaps he should pull some works from Midgardian authors, to compare the mythology to the histories already in his library.

"I guess?" You weren't certain you understood what Loki was saying, let alone what he was asking. It sounded like another Earth mythology had a grain of truth in advanced alien visitors, but you weren't well enough versed in any of the subjects at hand to be sure. In any case, you were fully distracted by the way the sky faded from dark peach at the zenith of the sky to the pale pink of the clouds hanging in the sky to the turquoise horizon where a pair of suns dipped lower and lower. "I don't know. What are we talking about?"

Loki slanted you an indulgent look when the two of you reached the path at the top of the beach and you glanced back, the sunset over the lavender ocean once again catching and holding you, pulling you to a stop as the sight filled your vision. He stopped with you, letting you look your fill of the strange sunset. The two of you stood in silent contemplation as you watched the suns slowly sink down until all that was left was a deep blue shimmer under the pinpointed black of a night sky. You turned your eyes back to the lights of the city and the two of you began walking towards them once more.

"The Folk are a powerful and ancient race," Loki continued speaking as though there had been no break in the conversation, and it took you a moment to get your train of thought back on track, "that have not been seen in many centuries, since before I was born. They are the only people the merchant could think of with a weakness to metals from Nidavellir."

Now that the suns had set, the sparkling, shimmering, shifting lights of the city beckoned cheerfully. You were fascinated by the subject at hand, but the sensory overload made it difficult to concentrate on what Loki was telling you. "Why do they have a weakness?"

Loki sneered. He hated to admit it but, "I don't know. Because no one has seen them in centuries, I'd never thought of them. I only recently started my research."

You did some quick mental math, realizing that Loki had had ample time since his visit to Alfheim to give you this information. He had clearly chosen not to, for reasons only he would understand. "But you're just now getting around to telling me?"

"Darling," the indulgent exasperation that colored the endearment made your lips twitch, "why would you not simply be grateful that I told you at all?"

The two of you had gotten close to one of the brightly colored buildings lining the street ahead of you, the eclectic crowd of people moving in and out, threatening to swallow the two of you into their ranks. "Because achieving the bare minimum doesn't merit gratitude?" Your retort came absently, the ornate doors in front of you occupying your attention when you realized they were where Loki was guiding you.

"Not even a little bit?" He laughed, already gratified by the look of wonder on your face as he pulled you into a casino very like and yet nothing like those on Earth. Behind the sprawling gold and brightly lit doors were games that had the same goal as those in Midgard casinos, taking your money, but the games themselves were far more honest and far more violent. He wondered what new expressions he'd see reflected in your bottomless eyes. "That doesn't sound right at all."

Part Eighteen here>>

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@hellzzzbelle @cheekygeek05 @bibliophile1773 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @miraclesoflove @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @destiel-is--endgame @irritated-bisexual @peaceinourtime82 @badassbaker @walkingtravesty97 @fashionworld12 @readermia @fukyouthink @felicityofbakerstreet @lumar014ad @thedistractedagglomeration

#loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki odinson fanfiction #loki odinson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #canon adjacent #series wip #pantswrites

[amandaoftherosemire]

Second Sight -- Part Twelve

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU/MCU AU

Pairing: Loki Odinson X fem!Reader

Characters: Loki Odinson

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5094

Format: Series WIP

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only, NSFW, language, angst, fluff.

Summary: The kind of person who likes to keep your head down, you know you’ve made a huge mistake when you lock eyes with the god come to life that had attempted to take over your world. You find out you were right when Loki snatches you off the street. Able to see through his magic no matter what spells he weaves, he first tried to contain you, then to understand you. When he had to leave you, he discovered he was in love with you. When he comes back, he finds how close he is to begging for you.

A/N: Okay. So. I spiraled for awhile. The fourth of July was the year anniversary of losing my mom and I didn’t do very well most of the month and, honestly, continuing until the present time. For a lot of that time I didn’t have any words in me and low motivation. I started working on a one-shot, trying to get my writing muscles working again, but then I found out someone was waiting for this. (Thank you!!) Well, let me tell you, nothing motivates the hell out of me like someone wanting to know what happens next enough to say so. I kicked my own ass and got this polished up. I will ride this dopamine hit for as long as possible and get the next chapter out as fast as possible. 😊

<<Part Eleven here

Second Sight Part Twelve

 You were done. There was no question. Only one final token resistance was called for, one you’d teased him with a thousand times before. After a shaky breath in, you whispered in response. "I shouldn't."

"With you," his arm tightened, hope lighting in his eyes, "that used to immediately precede the word 'yes.'"

You dropped any remaining pretense of resistance, your body relaxing into his with a sigh. Your weight shifted until your body was leaning into his and you rested your head against his shoulder, though your voice still carried a touch of petulance, just to make him laugh. "It still does."

 To your delight, that petulant sound still worked. His laugh sounded in your ear before you were rewarded with another laughing kiss, enjoying the affectionate exasperation he could always prod from you. The next moment, he turned until he was at your side, his arm still around your waist as he escorted you back through the portal into his study, but not the same study you'd last seen. The place you'd left had been warmly lit and well-organized. The room you walked back into was dark and messy, where plan after plan after plan had been hatched and discarded, until he'd finally found a way back through your door.

"I've been fairly goal-oriented for the last little bit," he replied shortly to the raised eyebrow you slanted his way, not entirely comfortable showing anyone, even you, how losing you had affected him, the spiral into melancholy that had ensued. He rushed you through the room as much as to avoid explanation as to get you into the bed as quickly as possible. Impatient, he stooped to slide his arm behind your knees as he slid an arm around your back to scoop you up and carry you toward the bedroom.

Once he had you in his arms, Loki felt the tension in his shoulders beginning to ease for the first time in far too long. His gait slowed as it sunk in that he had you back where you belonged, here, with him. He had you back in between time, the fear of the clock falling away. He had cheated time, and so could revel in having you back, could relish the press of your body against his, the sight of your lovely face so close to his. There was no rush now; he could savor the slow slide into the bottomless pools of your eyes, the endless warmth of your body. He devoured the sight of you, picking out the signs of sadness and sleepless nights. His heart clenched at the evidence that you had suffered as he had. He felt both gratitude and remorse that it should be so.

At the same time, he still hadn't heard the words that had tormented him with their absence. He'd given you the advantage by speaking of his feelings first, but considering the circumstances, it seemed more than fair, not that he cared about such things. Still, impatience crawled up his neck with the knowledge that you had not returned his confession of love in any way beyond consenting to come back to his palace. The impatience truly felt more like anxiety, not that he would admit that to anyone, even himself.

"Tell me." His voice was a growl as he paced over to the bed he'd barely slept in since the last time you'd been in it. He’d had a hard time sleeping there once he'd discovered that your scent lingered, that your memory was tied to the room itself. When he’d lay awake in this bed, he’d resented the loneliness, but the only person he could blame and punish was himself. No matter how he exhausted his brain running through all the mistakes he’d made and how losing you was his own damn fault, he could never exhaust himself enough to slip into sleep.

Slumber had become something rare, and precious if he'd managed to find a horizontal surface first. That had been much more often one of the couches in the library, or the floor of his study. Most often sleep was to be found slumped over his desk, deprivation finally overcoming his own self-loathing. Occasionally, when the grief hit hard, he allowed himself the weakness of seeking out your memory for a agonizing kind of comfort. The flood of love that overwhelmed him when he caught a whiff of your scent was, perhaps, rapture enough to overcome the pain of the reminder of losing you.

You lifted a brow, not entirely certain to what he was referring with his snarling two-word demand, and completely unwilling to guess. You had been through emotional and mental hell thanks to Loki, and you could only stand so much of his particular brand of ambiguity right now. If he wanted something from you, he’d have to be explicit. "Tell you what?" you asked with an arch look of superiority despite the vulnerable position in which he’d placed you, on your back in the center of the bed beneath his powerful body, kneeling over you in an almost predatory fashion, so shockingly similar to your last reunion.

Loki's eyes narrowed as he further caged you in with his body, pressing you into the bed as his legs slid along yours to urge them apart. On the one hand, he found your stubbornly impassive façade a delightful challenge, no less than he'd expected of you. He found his match in you in so many ways, he wasn’t really surprised to find that your agreement to come with him had turned out to be a very limited truce. "You know what I want to hear."

His voice, his eyes were so serious, the pain in them so immeasurably deep, an answering voice in your own heart cried out in response. You knew exactly what he wanted to hear, because your soul had screamed in fury even amongst the exultation hearing him speak of loving you had caused. You’d desperately wanted those words, but not when you could only hear them as calculated, manipulative. Even now, you needed him to be explicit, because you knew you couldn’t trust him.

He held your eyes for a long moment, but you didn't blink. He saw the determination there, wondered if you knew that you were the only person in his life who never underestimated him, and so never asked him to be anything but he was. Your consistent suspicion paired with your steadfast loyalty was a pure kind of acceptance, something rare and precious in his world.

His face softened into an expression of pure adoration and your heart stumbled in response to both the love in his eyes and the sweetness of his smile. You held still, simply watching him as his head dipped to brush his lips against yours softly, with an emotion he'd never let you see before. "Didn't you yearn for the words when we were apart?" he asked in a whisper against your lips. "I did."

The confession might have seemed like more manipulation, but for the aggrieved tones of near shame in which he offered the last two words. You let out a shaky laugh, this admission of vulnerability the truest, most believable he'd yet offered you. You were starting to believe he meant it when he said he loved you. "Did you really?" Despite your best efforts, your voice quavered a little on the question, even as your body relaxed in his arms, letting him mold his form to yours.

The sound, the sensation startled him, "Did you doubt it?" Loki lifted his head to search your eyes for a long moment, surprised to find that you had. He'd thought himself so obvious in his adoration, the recklessness with which he'd approached every choice when it came to you baring the truth of his feelings at every turn. When he saw that you were trying to hide the pain, as though uncomfortable with the weakness, he understood. How he'd left had wounded you deeply, in a thousand ways. This then, would be his penance. He vowed inwardly that he would always tell you the complete and absolute truth, on this one subject: how much he adored you. His voice soft and sincere, he lifted a hand to cup your face. "I'm sorry for that, too, my love."

You searched his face for a long moment, could swear you were seeing the truest version of Loki you'd yet met. Whatever the other voices inside you had to say to the contrary, you believed him. You’d known at the time that there had been something more between you. The way he’d touched you had always felt like he was brushing some feeling into your skin, his mouth offering emotion that had no name, until now.

Loki took your silence for disbelief, believed it only fair that you demanded more proof than he’d already offered. “I didn't doubt, knew that if I'd given you the words, you would have given them back." He opened up a little more, though it already felt like you understood him better than anyone ever had. “I suffered for that, as well, my love. I dislike being wounded by my own blade.”

“If you’re looking for sympathy,” you retorted, your face softening into the beginning of an indulgent smile, “you’re not going to find it.” You redirected that smile into a pout, unwilling to give him too much leeway yet, and knowing from experience that he was easily lured into a kiss when your mouth took this shape.

Loki’s heart began to race at this slight sign of yielding, that damnable pout that he could never resist kissing away. He’d long since learned when he was successfully talking his way back into your good graces, loved how wonderfully difficult you always made it. But when his head dipped and his mouth met yours, soft hands dove into his hair to hold him in place as they always had, and it felt like coming home.

His mouth caught and clung to yours, his lips soft with tenderness, his teeth sharp with impatience. His tongue was firm with demand, both to taste and tease as it surged between your lips to taunt you into a response. You obliged, curving your tongue around his, tilting your head to find a better angle to kiss him more deeply. When his knee slid against your thighs, you parted your legs to make a space for him.

Loki was never one to refuse a clear invitation and he immediately shifted his weight to press his hips between yours, to brace himself on his elbows and surround you completely in his beautiful body, in his sexy scent. Your hands left his hair, but he had no complaints as you moved to wrap your arms around his chest and pull him down to feel his weight pressing you more firmly into the bed. The juxtaposition between his heavy, yet sinuous body petting yours and the softness of the silk and velvet at your back was muddying your mind and making you kiss him back ever more fervently.

The familiarity of your current situation brought an ache to your throat, joy and despair mingling. Very recently the memory of being in this particular position was a source of pain, not pleasure, and the juxtaposition made you moan softly, caught between the two. Not so familiar was the feeling that Loki was unleashing across your body. His mouth fed from yours like he needed your breath to live, his hands touching you as though your skin was both delicate and precious, worshipping you with his body. The love all over him was drawing the love out of you, no matter how you'd buried it because of the pain of memories like this.

Loki lifted his head, feeling your body open and accept him, grateful to find that he hadn't lost you forever, as he'd feared. He knew he should accept that as enough, be satisfied that he had you back in his arms, back in his bed.

He was never satisfied.

His eyes blazed as he searched your face, your eyelids half-lidded with arousal, your eyes burning with passion. Your skin was flushed with the heat between you and your lips dark and swollen from his kisses. "Do you still doubt how I feel, my love?" he murmured the question as his erection pressed to the apex of your thighs, rubbing himself against your core and sending shivers of sensation outward through the rest of your body. You arched into him with a gasp of excitement, rubbing your breasts against his chest. "Do you still doubt how much you mean to me?"

Your hand slid up inside the loose linen shirt he was wearing and the feeling of your hand on his skin made him hum in pleasure. He dropped his forehead to yours to look into your eyes; he wanted you to see what your touch did to him. 

"No, I don't," you whispered, astonished to find that it was true. "I knew before you came back. There was doubt, but I knew." You didn't know where the confession came from as you knew better than to give Loki too much of an advantage, were normally very careful to avoid it. As much as you adored him, you still had no choice but to subvert his unrelenting will. It was like a compulsion.

But you couldn't lie to him when he was telling the truth. The game you two were always playing had rules after all, whether you acknowledged them or not.

Loki's smile flashed with triumph, but you could see the relief quivering at the corners of his mouth. The sight was more than your inner cynic could stand, let alone the counterpart romantic, and your heart sighed in recognition. Your hands gentled where the fingers had dug into the muscles of his back, flattening your palms against his skin to warmly caress him, making his heart quake.

"Then tell me." He stated it as a demand, though his eyes were soft and liquid. He was still only an inch away, wrapped around you, giving you a glimpse of the greed that lived inside him. You knew he’d done shocking things, were occasionally reminded that his actions had caused immense harm. The chaos that lived in his tones, in his eyes, told you that you had become precious to him, that he would cause that immense harm in your name should it be necessary. You were in love with a god of chaos, and with that came risks and consequences.

Past You would not have recognized the person you’d become, but Present You thrilled at the knowledge that he loved you enough to do unthinkable things. You didn’t want him to hurt anyone, but there was something darkly exciting at the thought that his feelings for you made him dangerous. Giving into it, you let him draw you into the shades of gray he inhabited so comfortably. Whether he knew it or not, he was urging you to be selfish, because you wanted him more than anything else. Gratified by his obsession with hearing them, you kept your eyes on his as you gave him the words he wanted. His insistence that you admit your feelings made you feel like a goddess. "I love you, Loki."

He smirked, smug triumph mostly covering the aching relief. "Of course you do." He immediately began tugging on your shirt, and if his hands were shaking, you politely didn’t mention it. Your heart trembled at the sight, however, and as his own clothes disappeared, you started helping him get you naked. You knew that he felt the same way you did, like you needed your skin against his to feel right again.

Loki took his time loving you, going over every inch of you with a connoisseur’s attention to detail, assuring himself that his memory of you was sound and accurate. His deep and thorough knowledge of your being, your body, your mind, your heart, was vindicated, Loki proved to be an expert. Your memory proved equally exact, your touch equally exciting when you knew precisely how to exploit his weaknesses too.

Though he didn’t need to take hours to demonstrate his mastery of the subject matter, but he took the time anyway. He’d wanted to be certain that you were safe and whole, still his, and he’d done that. He settled back with one arm behind his head, the other firmly pressing you against him.

He’d loved you boneless, and you were draped across his chest in a sprawl of pleasure-soaked relaxation that he found immensely satisfying. He could have kept pushing you up and over into ecstasy, listened to your cries of pleasure until the stars burned out, but you'd begun to beg for mercy, the intensity of the sensation becoming too much.

Not a creature that could be satisfied easily, if at all, the sound of you crying out in demand for his touch made him feel like possessing your heart might be enough. He loved knowing you could and would beg for his mercy, the tone in your voice the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. He needed this power, needed to know that there was some balance when you had him acting so recklessly. You were so important to him, held so much sway over his actions and choices that he thrilled to know that in this, at least, he held sway over you.

Loki stared at the ceiling, a window into the sprawl of the cosmos, the spiral of the galaxy arcing away from him, and savored the softness of your cheek against his shoulder, your breasts against his chest. He smoothed his palm over your back, pressing you closer as he relished the feeling of your body, warm and loose and wrapped around him. If this was what it was to be content, he could understand it a little now. He wouldn't mind spending a year or thousand basking in the wonder of being in love with someone who loved him back.

You, who saw him more clearly than anyone ever had, who had no choice but to see him, no matter what illusions he tossed your way, truly loved him. Even knowing exactly who and what he was, you’d seen through it to the passionate heart beneath it all. He'd seen it in your eyes when you'd said the words, had heard it in the sob of your voice as he'd thrust into you and demanded the words again. In this one thing, there was nothing but truth between you, and that truth was love.

"If I ever have to run, will you come with me?"

You started a little at the sound of Loki's voice breaking the silence. The quiet had been complete, but an easy thing, a soft and soothing blanket. After all the whimpering, moaning, screaming, begging, from both of you, the silence had been companionable, two teammates catching their breath before resuming the game. Still, you answered without hesitation, "Yes." You spoke so quickly, and with such finality, your brow furrowed slightly in consternation.

You’d spent hours upon hours of lost sleep puzzling over that question. If he’d gone on the run, would you have gone if he’d asked? You hadn’t had an answer, too hurt and angry to be unbiased. Now that he asked you outright, you were infuriated to find you had an immediate answer. You didn't have time to think too much on your surprising certainty, however, because Loki was asking more questions that you'd believed had no answers, based on your middle of the night mental spiraling.

"Would you have, if I'd asked before I le--"

"Yes." You cut him off, a little curtly. You couldn't help but be annoyed at all the lost sleep over these questions only to have an answer instantly at hand when confronted by Loki. You wanted him, didn't want to live without him. You didn't care what you had to do to make that happen. Maybe he was a bad influence, or maybe you'd never truly wanted anything before, but you knew you'd move heaven and earth to stay by his side.

That feeling only intensified when he laughed out loud again, something he had always tried to stifle or hide, like giving you his laughter was tantamount to giving you power over him. Since his return, however, he was freer, more open, as though coming back was admission enough that you mattered. Now that he could admit that he cared, he could give you the pieces of himself that he’d been holding back. You lifted your head to look into his face, entranced by the change.

When you met his eyes, you were caught in bright green, affection and adoration beaming out at you. "Evidently, we belong together." The arm around your back came up to squeeze your shoulders and pull your face closer to his. "We’re both willing to risk far too much to make it happen."

And there it was. You understood why he'd come back, the source of the change. Whether he realized it or not, he had accepted that his love for you wasn't a power exchange. He could give you his love freely because he’d stopped seeing it as a weakness. Instead, he’d seen how love could motivate, could incite. He'd done bold and daring things, concocted elaborate plots to remove the obstacles between himself and you. Loving you had inspired him to all new heights of mischief.

Underneath the warm emotion for you, you could see that he was smugly proud of himself that he'd succeeded in getting what he wanted: you, with him. Not only did he possess that which he valued above all else, your heart, you’d come with him of your own free will, knowing the worst. He felt like winning your love was his greatest trick to date.

Your eyes narrowed at the sight of the smug cast to his features.

Loki, already warmed by your confessions, heated by your skin sliding against him, ensnared by your your bottomless eyes as you searched his face for his true intentions, felt his heart begin to gallop when your face fell into his favorite expression, suspicion. By the Nords, he adored you.

Some perverse part of him enjoyed trouble, risking it, being in the thick of it, thrilled to the challenge and the chase. Being in trouble with you, however, had an edge of emotion, a tinge of lust. A shudder worked through him when your eyebrow raised and your lips pursed, the expression that told him that you were onto him. What you thought he was up to was unimportant, the suspicion was enough to excite him.

Slowly, with every intention of petting as much of Loki's skin with yours as you did so, you slid on top of him until you were straddling his hips, your chest pressed to his. Your eyes never left his as you moved, and you smiled wide and wickedly when you felt him become fully erect as soon as you pressed against him, your body melting around him.

Loki's hair was tumbling over his shoulders, the scent tempting you. You rubbed your body against his, making him moan a little, as you leaned forward to bury your face in his neck, in his hair, breathing deeply of his scent. The smell of him, wild forests and stormy seas, had haunted you. You reveled in having his skin against yours, his taste on your tongue, his scent in your head. When you hummed a little in response, his arms came around you tenderly, cuddling you close to his chest in pure affection.

Loki couldn't help but hold you close when you gave him such sweetness. The adversarial beginning to your relationship had made such things a rarity, both of you more likely to strike sparks when you met than glide smoothly against one another. Little gestures like this, the warm vulnerability of these soft touches of affection, moved him immensely. Protestations of devotion had always left him cold, but your reluctant adoration was irresistible. He felt you smile against the skin of his throat and his hands began caressing your arms and back of their own volition in response.

"I think we may be considered toxic," you murmured in amused tones. Nothing about how you felt at the moment felt wrong or bad. If this was poison, it tasted like candy. If it came to ruin, it was a lovely kind of destruction, undeniably beautiful even if you were in the thick of it. Now amused with yourself, you went on. "At the very least, co-dependent."

Loki couldn't remember if he knew what that meant, but he also didn't think it mattered. He understood that you were concerned by the feeling between you. He had already coped with this, when his plans to rid himself of Heimdall had to become more and more refined. He had gone to extraordinary lengths to bring you back into his world, because his world had felt empty without you. You were clearly extraordinary, as was how he felt about you.

"Nothing I want has ever been something I was supposed to have."

The flat, cruel tone had you lifting your head to look into his eyes in question. His face was cold as stone until he focused on you, when everything about him softened and made your heart melt in response. He smiled and put his hand to your cheek. "Why should this be any different?" He shrugged in nonchalance, but you could see the studied touch to the gesture, knew there was a tiny part of him who wished it could be different, that he could be himself freely. "I am what I am, I do what I want, I’ll love who I love." At that his other hand came up so that he was cupping your face, looking deep into your eyes, as though he could see your soul. "What I want is to stay by your side. I’ll do what I must to have what I want."

You could barely breathe, your chest tight with something that felt like tears and yet also felt like joy. "Nothing and no one makes me feel like this. I feel more alive with you." You didn't know where the words were coming from, as you never gave Loki this much honesty, too concerned that it be used against you. In this moment, however, it felt like the barriers between you had come down, and both of you were giving the other a clear view. "I don’t know if I should say no to that, but I’m sure I don’t know how.” Your mouth twisted in a wry smile of exasperation, but the kind that turns inward. You sighed in a kind of blissful resignation when Loki's hands continued to skim over your skin, kneading your muscles was he went. "I know I don’t want to fight it anymore."

Loki thrilled to the sound of mild frustration, grateful that he wasn't alone in this, that you understood as little about the bond between you as he did. Neither of you believed this to be either sustainable or sane, but neither of you could resist the pull the other held for you. The gravity between you was too powerful, keeping you in tight orbit around each other. Like the laws of nature, it could not be denied. Neither of you would bother to try any longer.

Whether you belonged together or not, you both felt like you did. That was all that mattered in the moment.

His hands had moved to your hips and were gently gripping to encourage you when the shimmy of your hips turned into a slight rocking. As serious as the conversation was, you were still stretched out on top of him, nothing between you. You buried your face in his hair again, pressed your lips against the skin of his throat to take his flavor on your tongue. The sensation made his eyelids flutter in reaction. He loved the way your body felt against his, could never get enough of touching you, tasting you, being inside you.

"Why care for ‘should’?" he asked, his voice colored by a moan as he lifted his hips to grind your core more firmly against the back of his cock. You let him, as lost in his body as he was in yours, thrilling to the sensation of his skin, velvet soft against yours, the feeling of his heart pounding in answer to yours. His hands shifted your body so that the tip of his cock slid through your folds until he was resting at your entrance.

Your voice was husky as you replied, "I don’t." You started to sink down on him, your breath catching in your throat at the feeling of fullness from taking him inside you. “Not anymore.” You rested a moment when he was seated to the hilt, panting against the skin of his throat. "Not when it comes to you."

Unable to resist, you began pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to his chest, tasting the salt of the sweat that dewed his skin, humming in your throat as you went. Moving changed the angle at which he was seated inside you by degrees, but that was enough to have both of you moaning. You kept relaxing onto him, hands creeping up over his chest and into his hair, until he was fully inside you and you were draped over him, boneless in your pleasure, your lips resting against his pounding heart.

Loki's hands came up to pull your face to his for hot, desperate kisses, tilting your head for better, deeper access to your mouth. You actively assisted him, stretching to kiss him as passionately as you could, using your grip in his hair to pull him closer, wanting to pull him inside you as fully and as deeply as possible.

Your hips started moving of their own volition, barely working Loki's cock in and out of you as you devoured his breath. He couldn't seem able to touch you enough, his hands racing over your back and thighs with increasing agitation. Getting greedy, you broke the kiss to lift up and rock your hips more firmly against him.

"I really do love you." The words sounded like you'd ripped them from him against his will, a long low moan of pleasure as his hands took your hips back in his hands to urge you to move faster, fuck him harder. You stared down at his at his pale, lithe body, beautiful stretched out beneath you, glowing in the light of a shimmering galaxy.

Loki lost his breath when your eyes met his, those bottomless pools drawing him in to willingly drown as a wicked, knowing smile spread across your face. He sat up, fully ensnared by your eyes, wanting his lips on yours again.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and rocked faster, a laugh of joy lifting up out of you. "Of course you do."

Part Thirteen here>>

Taglist:

@hellzzzbelle @cheekygeek05 @lbouvet @diinofayce @bibliophile1773 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @miraclesoflove @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @destiel-is--endgame @irritated-bisexual @peaceinourtime82 @badassbaker @walkingtravesty97 @fashionworld12 @readermia @fukyouthink @felicityofbakerstreet @lumar014ad @theomnipotentfox @thedistractedagglomeration

#Loki x reader #Loki Odinson x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki odinson fanfiction #loki odinson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #loki smut #loki odinson smut #pantswrites #second sight #series wip

[amandaoftherosemire]

The Always Dreaded Update on Where I’ve Been

Hi!

Hey folks! I wanted to pop in to explain why there have been no updates to Second Sight and no evidence that I’ve been wandering off into other fanfic as I am wont to do. To the handful of people still following my extremely intermittent story, I’m still writing it, after a fashion. My laptop died and I haven’t been able to replace it yet. I’ve been working on it as best I can on my phone but it’s awkward and slow going. I’ll be getting a new laptop sometime this month, so I’m hopeful that I’ll have the next chapter up before May. I only started this damn thing two years ago. 🙄🤷🏻‍♀️😄

If you’re still reading, I love you. That is all

#Manda update #second sight #pantswrites

[amandaoftherosemire]

Second Sight -- Part Nine

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU/MCU AU

Pairing: Loki Odinson X fem!Reader

Characters: Loki Odinson

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 7217

Format: Series WIP

Warnings: Language, light smut, teasing, angst. Like a whole boatload of angst.

Summary: The kind of person who likes to keep your head down, you know you’ve made a huge mistake when you lock eyes with the god come to life that had attempted to take over your world. You find out you were right when Loki snatches you off the street. Able to see through his magic no matter what spells he weaves, what began as an attempt to contain a vulnerability has turned into something far more dangerous. Now that you’ve returned willingly to his side, he cannot conceive of ever letting you go.

A/N: I mean, we all knew it was going too well. We’re on a rollercoaster, and it’s been all uphill for a minute, so it’s time to drop. I really do have a plan, however, so I promise we’re not ending it here. I have more tricks up my sleeve, I promise. Please don’t hate me too much.

 I am slowly but surely trying to learn how to be a social human again. To that end, I’m going to continue to be more active on here. I’m still on a partial hiatus, at least until my mother’s estate is settled and I no longer have executor duties distracting me. But I am around, so anyone is welcome to shoot me an ask or message and won’t have to wait forever for a response. 😊 You know I adore you guys, right?

<<Part Eight here

Second Sight Part Nine

Loki had never been one for restraint, but even he was astonished at the heights to which you would dare him to reach, the depths to which you would inspire him to sink. He didn't steal merely a moment, but every spare moment he could get his greedy hands on. He resented every second outside his private sanctuary, despised every minute of the normal flow of time, haunted by the speed at which it moved.

However, whenever he felt his mind begin to cloud and drift, he knew it was time to step back into the rushing flood to clear his thoughts and recalibrate his inner clock. To his consternation, he couldn't see any evidence that the time dilation affected you at all, but he didn’t really know what questions to ask you to find out. At this point, he would hardly be shocked to find you hadn’t even noticed the effects considering how many other kinds of immunity you possessed. His magic couldn’t touch you, his runes and wards working only sporadically and with little pattern that Loki could see.

Some days that immunity was the only thing that allowed him even a glimmer of hope for the future.

Despite his reluctance, whenever he stepped back into the flow of time, he made himself let you go back to Midgard as he returned to Asgard to impersonate his father. He could rarely stand more than a couple of days apart, however, knowing your life was ticking away as long as you were outside his pocket dimension. He had a difficult time paying attention in his role as his father as long as he was worrying about you, had already drawn attention with his behavior, but it wasn’t as though he could take you with him.

The first time he'd let you go back, he'd only been able to stand your absence for a couple of hours. Unfortunately, he hadn't thought he'd need you so soon, had told you to expect him again in a few days. But once you were out of sight, doing whatever it is you did on your horrible death planet, an itch had begun at the back of his mind. That itch had become unbearable in far shorter time than he’d ever have thought possible, and it had taken only a few hours before he’d been unable to stand having you out of his sight.

So certain he was only indulging himself with you, he’d failed to plan for this itch, had done nothing to either summon or track you, forcing him to wait around in your apartment until you returned. Though he'd been sorely tempted to seek you out, he'd opted to go through your belongings instead, trying to understand the creature that had acquired such a powerful hold over him. You’d laughed with an infuriatingly smug satisfaction when you returned home to find the God of Mischief prowling your apartment like a creep, waiting for you with gratifying impatience.

When he'd scooped you into his arms as soon as the front door was closed at your back, that laugh of wicked joy had bubbled out of you to make his heart sing. He'd known then that, despite his lies to himself, he would do whatever he had to do to keep you close and happy with him as long as the universe, and you, would allow. You made him feel alive; he would not, could not, let you go without a fight.

The next couple weeks in his palace were split between indulging himself in you and making something that would allow the two of you to communicate. Knowing you preferred to not draw attention and not wanting to make you any kind of target, he settled on a plain silver bracelet that would subtly indicate that he wanted to meet. When he wanted, he could press his forefinger against the rune he’d set into the skin on the inside of his wrist to make the bracelet ice over for a moment. Whenever he wanted to meet you in his between place, he'd signal and when you could, you'd go back to your linen closet door. Once you passed through your front door, he'd set another rune that burned against his skin to let him know you were on your way.

You rarely had to wait for each other. On more than one occasion, you were stepping through the portal from Midgard at the same moment he was stepping through from Asgard. The smile you'd give him every time made him crazy; more than once he hadn't been able to stop himself from making love to you right there on the floor of his study. He couldn't resist taking any chance to touch you, especially not when he had just stepped from the regular flow of time, where your life bled out so fast.

The nightclub was loud with something humans called music, and the room was both too dark and too bright and set Loki's teeth on edge. The drink he sipped was rich with flavor and surprisingly refreshing, however. Though little on your world impressed him, he could admit he was enjoying the smoke over citrus, sweet, and spice as he watched you amongst your own kind.

As though anyone in this city, let alone this building, could hold a candle to you.

One of you had been feeling restless; it didn't really matter whom. The two of you were truly binary stars, had become trapped in each other's gravity, and when one moved, the other responded. That reckless mood had infected both of you until you were leaving his palace to prowl the streets of New York.

You'd dressed to entice, wanting eyes on you, needing hands tempted to touch. Not Loki's, at least not yet, but that was part of the fun. He'd keep his hands to himself as long as you remained on Earth, but on previous forays into your world, that limitation had led to absolutely stunning displays of passion once you were back in his bed between space and time.

When you went dancing, hands and bodies inevitably slipped and slid against one another. As long as certain lines weren't crossed, you didn't worry about it in the crush of people on a dance floor. When certain lines were crossed, you were more than capable of putting an immediate and painful stop to it.

Loki hated to see anyone's hands on you but his. Loki loved to watch you put an overeager dance partner in their place, however. And once he had you alone, where he could pleasure you again and again, remind you why you kept coming back to him, he could unleash all that violent frustration in rough and wild passion. He wanted to impress himself into your very skin, so that you'd never forget what it was to be loved by him. He'd swear you'd done so to him, so it seemed more than fair.

His eyes skimmed over you as you moved to the music, watching you outshine every human he'd ever met. Though only a couple months had passed in the normal flow of time, the two of you had stolen nearly a year more together. All that time had wrought a change in you. Something was stripping away your camouflage.

The day you'd met, his eyes had slid over you without a snag. He'd never have looked past your perfect façade had he not overheard your hissing conversation with your friend. You had appeared to be a perfectly ordinary human being, albeit a lovely one, and he had had no interest in or use for an ordinary human. As he watched you now, your body moving sinuously to the beating noise, he couldn't imagine not falling at first sight.

He leaned on the bar, sipping the drink you'd pushed into his hand, smiling to himself at how you’d given it to him. You hadn’t left his side until he’d begrudgingly approved of your choice, then with a laugh and blown kiss, you’d left him for the dance floor as soon as he’d rolled his eyes and shrugged. The sight of you, sparkling eyes and twitching hips, took his breath, as happened when you looked particularly wild and mischievous. When the archer had introduced him to the bitter brew called coffee during his unsuccessful invasion, he’d had no idea that the taste he’d acquire would lead to meeting his match outside one of the small shops that sold it. He was beginning to worry that he had acquired too many tastes from Midgard: coffee, the drink he currently held in his hand, you. He had no doubt he’d tire quickly of either of the former should he overindulge, but he seemed to have no upper limit to indulgence when it came to you. That never-ending taste for you continued to baffle him.

Loki compared you to the other humans around you, the other tastes he’d acquired over the centuries, those same tastes he’d tired of in far less time than he’d already spent with you. He remained puzzled by the difference, wondering at the change. He couldn't say that there was a difference, or a change, unless it was in him. He couldn't say that any facet of you had been altered; perhaps he was looking at you from a different angle, or the light from his world was refracting differently when it touched you, revealing what had been there all along.

Your eyes had always flashed, with defiance, disdain, desire, but they beamed into his soul now. The way you moved had always drawn his eye, but now it seemed to him that you drew every eye. He was well-aware of the sexual attention directed your way, had to deliberately tamp down the possessiveness welling up inside him. Not only did you not belong to him, as you had made abundantly clear, but neither did he want to own you. He loved your wild heart, loved that you steadfastly refused to belong to anyone or anything other than yourself.

Rather than give into the silly possessiveness that tried to push him into motion, to stake a claim, Loki reminded himself that you wanted him to see you dance. Everyone else in the room may as well not even be there. They were set dressing in a performance between the two of you, your eyes looking his way to make sure he was still watching, smiling to find that he hadn’t looked away.

Watching from his peripheral vision the covetous eyes skimming over you, he reveled in smug amusement at their arrogance when he knew they may as well covet their moon; she would be more attainable. He couldn’t help but grin with the knowledge that you were indirectly using them to provoke the avaricious part of him that coveted what others wanted, desired what he wasn’t supposed to have. The jealousy was toothless, but the lovemaking when he had you alone again that would be marked by a brutal kind of tenderness.

You had long since given Loki free rein over your body, as he’d always respected your boundaries, had thoroughly earned your trust over time. Because of that earned trust, you not only welcomed every touch with wracking anticipation, you actively sought to incite it, knowing your body would ache when it was over, but soar and shudder and quake before that. Between Loki’s magic hands and his magic bath, you never ached for long, never had to wait too long for another reminder that Loki couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

The music changed and, laughing and warm-skinned with exertion, you turned to make your way back to him. He'd kissed every inch of that sweat-dewed skin, had deliberately committed each curve to memory, felt like he knew your body better than any other. And yet he couldn't get enough, never grew weary of exploring those curves, was even now wishing he had you alone so he could kiss every inch for the thousandth time.

If only his magic worked on you, he'd hide the both of you from the mass of humanity that pressed around. He could easily imagine bending you over the bar against which his back rested. Once there, he'd make you scream louder than the pounding music, showing you what he could give you, what you never needed to seek from any of the unworthy supplicants that tried to hold you for longer than a moment. Unfortunately, he'd already discovered you were immune to his magic in every way, that he couldn't even cast his illusions upon you to fool others.

He couldn't even touch you in this realm without your immunity interfering with the integrity of his own illusions. He was still on this barstool, not on the floor with his hands all over you, because he couldn't be sure that your immunity wouldn't uncloak him, drawing the kind of attention he was specifically trying to avoid. Despite the risk, the temptation to touch was overwhelming. A spasm of lust worked through him, and his hand clenched in his lap in the effort to restrain himself when your scent wafted over him once you were back by his side.

On the other hand, that was the thrill, why the two of you had left the safety of his lair to risk the open night with only his magic to cover him. Because he couldn't touch you, he had to simply watch, to keep his hands to himself while others failed, infuriatingly, to do so. He could not remind you that you preferred his touch, could not confirm to others the same. All he could do is watch and wait until you'd danced your fill. You took these opportunities to reconnect with your world, your people, and you would not be rushed through it.

Though you thoroughly enjoyed every stretched moment in Loki's palace, could entertain yourself for years with his library alone, you were still human, still had a need for the social. The fact that you had a project in translating Loki's magic script into something you could use made it easy to stay inside, but only to a point. As entertaining as your host and his home could be, you still missed people after a time. You still needed to set your feet upon the world of your birth, needed to breathe the same air as your fellow humans.

You'd found out that Loki couldn't touch you on Earth the first time you’d insisted on going out. You'd needed to speak to someone other than Loki, but you hadn't wanted to leave him yet. He hadn't wanted to let you go, and so you'd compromised with a trip to Midgard. That trip had led to the discovery that boundaries and limitations did something to the energy between you.

Boundaries and limitations were exactly the type of thing that taunted Loki, made him obsessed with transgressing them. He seemed to be naturally chafed by anything resembling restraints or restrictions. The carefully crafted, layered illusion that was the only thing standing between him and detection was deeply complicated and thus not immune to the occasional glitch. Discovering that he couldn't touch you without distorting the illusion was another addition to the frustrating puzzle you presented; he had thought he’d known the weaknesses in the magic cloaking spell. In the meantime, as he hadn’t yet overcome this limitation, there was nothing to do but keep his hands to himself. He was supposed to be dead; he couldn't have images of himself flashing in Heimdall's periphery. Regardless of the temptation, he steadfastly kept a careful distance between you while on Earth.

After an evening of being forced to look, but never touch, he was nearly feral when released. Once he had you back behind the closed doors of his palace, his lovemaking became wild, almost vicious. You would gladly give yourself over to it, experience having taught you that his hands would move over you like he'd brand you if he could, possessive but frustrated by intractable defiance. You loved that you could drive him to the edge of violence, loved that the two of you had found matching spirits in one another, each appreciating the same balance between pleasure and pain.

You knew when you took these trips that the night would end with you boneless and exhausted, your body humming from the pinnacles he'd push you up and over again and again. He'd make love to you as though you were something ephemeral, something he could touch but never hold. Hot and wild, you were already preparing for the soul-shaking pleasure burning in his eyes.

You were laughing as you leaned close to speak into his ear, at normal volume as you knew he was able to hear you despite the music. The God of Mischief had to have very sensitive ears; it was how he’d found you, after all. "You look like you could eat me alive," you flirted, then pulled back to gaze into molten emerald, teasing him with your eyes in the same way you'd danced to inflame. You knew he'd make you pay for it once he had you alone again. You were grinning recklessly, only encouraged by the set of his jaw, the muscle twitching in his cheek as he held himself back. You ached with want, ready to leave the club behind and let him fulfill the promises the smirk on his mouth was making.

The flames in his narrowed eyes scorched you they raked over you with both irritation and intent. "Something like that," Loki murmured, itching to pull you close, to feel the heat of your body warming him. He hated the restrictions of spending time with you on Midgard, despised the forced separation from you. The only thing that made it bearable was the way you'd respond to his touch when he had you alone again. You shone like the sun after a night like this, like you were using your world’s rules to dominate him. He was a contrary soul, what he hated he also loved. He was never able to resist stoking you higher, feeding the flames, despite the burn of restraint.

Besides, it wasn’t as though he had any choice. As it stood, it wasn't as though he could take you to Asgard, thanks to your anti-magic aura. He couldn't hide you, and he couldn't risk someone there seeing you. Meanwhile, you could only spend so much time in his pocket dimension before he worried about damage to your mind, and he could only spend so much time away from you, not that he was willing to look at that too closely. He had yet to find a solution that suited him.

He wasn't sure, when you looked at him like this, a dare warring with a promise in your eyes, that he wanted one. The current situation had its benefits.

As the two of you had played like children in and out of time, taking whatever either of you wanted, he’d seen you bloom into a brighter, truer version of yourself. You had reached greedily for the new experiences to be found at his side, dared to do so much more than he’d expected, be so much more than you appeared, like the mischief that had been hiding inside you couldn’t help but reach out to the man who personified it.

Not that he was responsible for the shining star you’d become; even he was not so conceited to delude himself on that account. He had merely given you the space and time to express what had always been inside you. The glorious creature under the armor you wore for your world had captivated him in a way he’d never before known. He wished he knew what to do about it, about you.

"You'll have to tell me about it when we get home." Your eyes were sly, your mouth an enticingly wicked curve. His hand clenched again in his lap, caught in your gaze, in another of those moments that left him desperate to touch you, wanting you with a genuinely painful ache. He wondered if it was for the best that his magic didn’t work on you the way it should, because his never-ending desire for you could have long since overwhelmed his good sense and left him doing something crass like seeing if he could make you come right here, without anyone seeing.

As it was, the law of averages finally caught up to him, and he forgot himself enough to reach out and cup your elbow, his skin seeming to reach out for yours. He remembered to avoid the collision only once it was too late, at the same moment his skin touched yours and you pulled away with a gasp. He could feel eyes turning toward the two of you, human eyes full of concern and judgement. Much more important, and causing his heart to speed in alarm, was when one of the runes he had set into his skin began to burn, indicating that golden eagle eyes had stuttered in their smooth scan of the universe and were turning in his direction.

"You startled me!" You were laughing as you put your hand on your heart, though he could see the shrewd awareness in your eyes before you turned to wave down the bartender. Your relaxed demeanor and his quick move to shore up his illusion had the human eyes that had turned his way sliding back to their own affairs, convinced that they'd misunderstood the fear they'd thought they'd heard and the shimmer in the air around him they'd thought they'd seen. Loki relaxed by a fraction, long since accustomed to using people’s propensity to want to stay uninvolved to his advantage, having done so on countless occasions.

"I'll meet you outside." His voice was loud enough to carry, but the roar of the crowd drowned out the cold fury shuddering through him and coloring every word. Without a glance back, he began to push through the crowd, desperate to get outside, to get away from you in case Heimdall discovered him. He could feel the other man's attention focus in on that little ripple touching you had caused. Loki knew it wouldn't be long before Heimdall would begin to look for the cause of the ripple, and he didn't dare use his magic to slip between shadows lest even that attract those near-perfect eyes.

To his relief, as he moved away from you, the gaze he feared didn't follow him. Instead, to Loki’s dawning horror, Heimdall's focus stayed on the location of that ripple. A shiver ran down Loki's spine when he realized Heimdall seemed to be looking most thoroughly at you. The horror only grew, his stomach sinking as he realized those golden eyes weren't moving on. Fighting the urge to run, he stepped into the cool air of a spring evening, turned right at random once on the sidewalk, and began walking blindly, intent only on getting away from Heimdall's piercing stare.

Loki was three blocks away from the club before his heart stopped pounding. Heimdall was his brother's most dangerous ally, and the most loyal of his father's generals. Attracting his attention when not carefully cloaked in the layers upon layers of illusions he wore in his role as Odin was foolish in the extreme. He wasn’t careless with his illusions on Midgard, either, but you were a confounding variable that he could not seem to correct for in his plans.

Loki almost wished he had attracted Heimdall's attention; he’d planned for that. He'd never planned for Heimdall to take such an interest in you. He wanted to turn around, to run back to you, snatch you away from the eyes that stayed fixed on you. The one person on Midgard that Loki never wanted Heimdall to notice, let alone watch, was you. This was a catastrophe he'd not foreseen.

As much as he hated it, he had no choice. Acting on instinct, and thanks to the thorough distraction you were inadvertently providing, he slipped between the shadows and fled Midgard, leaving you standing alone on a curb, shivering in club wear, without the first clue where he'd gone.

By the time you made it back to your apartment, you'd run the emotional gamut, but by the time you reached your door you were trying to hold on to anger so that terror wouldn't take over. You had wracked your brain during the less furious parts of your trip home, but you hadn't figured anything out. You couldn't imagine any good reason why Loki would leave you so unceremoniously, but you'd rather be mad than scared.

You’d known when you’d looked into his eyes after he’d accidentally touched you that he’d been angrier than you had ever seen him. That anger had been entirely aimed inward, however; none of it had been directed at you. If that little touch was truly what had precipitated his departure, his sudden disappearance wasn’t a punishment, but rather an unfortunate byproduct. You could not imagine how or why such a thing could be related to the abrupt way he’d left you, but you also could not see any other correlations. None of your options for why he’d left were good, but the one that seemed most likely brought up a thousand other concerns.

Which is why you were insisting to yourself that your hand was shaking in fury, not fear, as you fumbled with your keys, trying to get them into the locks on your apartment door. The more you struggled, the less dexterity you possessed, the scratch and scrape of metal against metal a counterpoint to the emotions warring within you. Part of you was shrieking in fear, another in rage, a third in grief, but you couldn’t listen, no matter the noise. You needed to find the message Loki had left to explain what had happened; you could not imagine that he would not have found a way to tell you why. Once inside, you snapped on the light, fully expecting to see something, anything that explained why Loki had disappeared on you without a word.

Though you got what you'd expected, it was not at all how you'd expected it. The explanation was not in what you saw, but rather in the sudden absence. Nothing was out of place, except everything was. Nothing had changed, but everything was different, and the abrupt transformation left you dizzy and sick. Grief and rage started to overwhelm fear.

Over your time together, Loki had spent the occasional hour or two in your space, carelessly gesturing, leaving scrawling lines of glowing script that was the hallmark of his magic on every surface in your home. You'd come to be comforted by them, feeling like he was with you even when you had to be apart.

Every gleaming symbol, every shimmering sigil had vanished.

Your head spun as your stomach churned, the shock of your loss echoing in your head, your body, like a blow that knocks the wind from your lungs, leaving you stunned and vibrating. A weird surface numbness overtook your body and kept you on your feet even as you felt like you were being torn apart. With a hiccupping cry that you quickly locked off, you moved through your living room into your hallway, stopping in an anguished daze at your blank linen closet door.

You sagged and stumbled, your back coming up against the wall as your stomach pitched and rolled, the numbness receding in the face of the pain turning your bones to jelly. The symbols that had remained on your door, free for you to walk through at any time, were gone as though they'd never been. He hadn't just walked away without a backward glance, he'd ghosted you as he did it.

As though you hadn’t been a part of him, as much as he was a part of you.

As though you hadn't been able to see the love in his eyes, no matter that it never escaped his lips. You'd heard it in the brush of his voice over your name, felt it in the brush of his skin against yours. There had been moments, when he'd held your face in his hands, his thumbs smoothing over your cheeks, staring into your eyes, the emotion brimming in the emeralds caressing you had been so clear, so pure, you'd almost been able to hear his voice whispering the words in your head.

You'd been dumped before, but never like this. Not like this.

Using the rage burning at the back of your throat, the tears choking you turning to steam in the heat of it, you pushed up to search the apartment. If you were going to repress all of this heartbreak in hate, you had to find every last scrap of rage. You went first through your bedroom, looking for any little bit of magic left on any surface, pulling the bed apart, rifling the drawers and closets.

You couldn't be absolutely certain, but you would swear in a court of law that the items of clothing that had migrated to his palace had mysteriously made their way home. The idea that he had not only scrubbed your existence of anything to do with him, but that he’d made the effort to return your belongings, scrubbing his existence of you, was unbearable. Fury choking you, you tore through your apartment, tearing everything apart, looking for any evidence you'd ever laid eyes on Loki, God of Mischief.

Nothing. Each and every crumb of proof that Loki had ever been here had been cleansed from your world without a trace. Not only was his magic gone, not only had he returned your belongings, but everything from his world had also disappeared. You couldn't decide whether or not to be insulted that he’d returned everything or impressed that he'd found everything.

You found nothing, not a scrap, not a smudge. You sat in the middle of your destroyed home baking in anger, drowning in anguish, alone.

Even the pages of notes you'd smuggled from his castle and hid in half a dozen places in your apartment were gone, every piece of information you'd collected about his magic cleaned out. In this case, you couldn't help but be impressed, no matter how aggravating it was, that it had taken him so little time to discover all of your hiding spots in the midst of cleaning up everything else.

To be fair, even Loki was bound by space and time, and a time limit can make even the very clever miss a spot.

You didn't go look at the one thing he seemed to have overlooked, not yet certain it was safe to do so. The private journal you'd bought on Earth and tucked between a couple of unremarkable paperbacks held a great deal more than its appearance would indicate, and it seemed to be undisturbed. Its dark brown leather cover blended in amongst the books that lined an equally unremarkable lightweight bookshelf. You'd gone to some trouble to surround it with other books to help make it even more unobtrusive.

You'd secretly transferred every scrap of information on the missing pages into the journal, knowing he'd search for and find most of the originals, at least. You'd hoped that seven different hiding spots would either satisfy him, or slow him down, and it seemed to have worked. Despite his efforts, you still had evidence you'd known him. You still carried his secrets, regardless of how thoroughly he'd tried to scour himself from your world.

Unless, when you went to examine it, those pages had been taken, you could comfort yourself with the memory of what had been. You had always known that your brush with magic was temporary, but you couldn’t stand the thought that you should be left with not even the memory of magic when it was over. You felt beaten, the anger ebbing away now that reality was truly setting in.

If he'd gotten caught, he wouldn't have removed everything that proved any connection between you. He couldn't have been caught, or he wouldn't have had the opportunity to do this. Regardless of why he’d done so, there was no doubt that this removal from your life had been done with both speed and competence. No matter how you hated it, you could not escape the obvious conclusion: He'd left you on purpose.

But it made no sense! No matter how you tried, you couldn’t make his behavior make sense. There had to be information you were missing, because this seemed like such a wild overreaction to what had happened in the bar. The only reason to have done this was the fear of being caught. Somehow, between the time he'd left you standing in the club and when you'd walked through the door, he'd gone to an excessive amount of effort to destroy evidence, something he would have done only if he was concerned that someone could trace him through you.

You'd like to believe he would have spoken to you had he felt he could, but that was your broken heart talking. The rage voice wouldn’t let the grief voice take complete hold because you would swear he'd left your apartment only moments before you arrived home. The scent of him was one painfully familiar to you, and you could easily catch it as you'd searched for traces of his magic. The cynic in your head told you that he could have taken five seconds to apologize, and you didn't have the energy to argue with her. You pulled yourself slowly to your feet, aching with every movement, and moved back toward your bedroom, deliberately ignoring the journal, and especially ignoring the blank closet door, stripping your dress from your body as you went.

You were first going to have a shower, to wash the smell of club and sweat off of you. You were going to deliberately think of only each step in the next few moments, too tired to think beyond the immediate future. Then, you were going to ignore everything but fixing your bed, crawling into it, and escaping into sleep.

Loki's hands were shaking.

He sat on the floor with his back against the door that, until a moment ago, had held the portal to you. His legs were bent, his elbows braced on his knees with those trembling hands in his direct line of sight. His eyes burned with unshed tears as he stared and stared and willed the trembling to stop. He didn't know whether he was shaking in grief or rage, but he was fighting with every ounce of strength he had to still the tremors threatening to move up his arms. He felt like he couldn't lose even an inch in this battle, lest the quakes take him over.

Loki tried to focus on the object he held, but that was fraught with its own tremor inducing issues. He didn’t know why he still held it, but he couldn’t let it go. Clenched around a gown he'd found draped across the foot of your bed, those pale hands seemed to be caught in between the tension of his body, against the structural integrity of the fabric, the structural integrity of his will. He didn't know how it had made its way to Midgard, but he knew he couldn't leave it behind, reeking of his magic.

He also knew that if he didn't stop shaking, he'd tear it to shreds.

Loki heard the fabric begin to give, but his eyes were blind to everything but those shaking hands, those pale, long fingers that had erased him from your life. That they belonged to him, that he was cut with his own knife meant nothing. He felt the quakes spread up his arms and through his body along with a cold wash of fury.

In all the contingencies he'd foreseen, Heimdall noticing you, let alone taking a genuine interest, had never occurred to him. You were spectacular, yes, but upon closer study, not at first sight. Though he'd known you to be special, he hadn't expected even the eagle eyes of Heimdall to see with a glance from across space what Loki had spent months in close proximity trying to uncover.

He'd known all along that there was something different about you, though it was difficult to pin down. Something about you was not quite the same as other humans, however good you were at hiding it. That Heimdall had taken an interest proved you to be unique amongst your kind, but the satisfaction of being proved correct was bittersweet. As he believed your camouflage to be innate, it wasn't as though he could ask you, or Heimdall, for that matter, what it was that had drawn his eye.

Loki had long since resigned himself to the fact that what he had with you was painfully finite, had admonished himself a thousand times to let you go before he became irrevocably attached. To tell the truth, he had already allowed it to go on for far longer than he'd ever intended, but once he'd started indulging himself with your company, with your affection, he hadn't been able to even consider putting an end to it. He had decided to enjoy himself as long as fate would allow, but he hadn't permitted himself to consider what the consequences of that decision might be. Now that the moment had arrived that he had to let you go, the pain of it felt like it would tear him apart.

He'd tried to pretend that this wasn't a breaking point, that you hadn't become vitally important to him. He'd lied to himself, insisted that he could walk away from you with nothing more than mild regret. Until he'd been forced to walk away, he hadn't considered the possibility that you might become more important to him than his stolen throne. Until he was in your home, cleansing it of any trace of his presence, he hadn't realized how strong the temptation would be to let his emotions destroy all of his carefully laid plans.

Rational or not, wise or not, he didn't want to let you go. He'd heard your keys in the lock as he'd stepped through the portal for the last time, knew you would still be discovering what he'd done. If he let himself, he could easily turn around and risk everything for you. He wasn't entirely certain what he'd do if he went back to you, but abduction and flight wasn't out of the question. He'd forced himself to keep moving, though his knees had failed him the moment the portal was closed.

He’d slid to the floor as he’d waved his hand to dispel the portal, his knees failing him as the enormity of his loss began to hit him. Even worse, the difference between your time and his kept the temptation keen, knowing he still had time to undo the very thing he was already regretting. Only the knowledge that he could not take it back without discovery, flight, danger kept him in place, staring at his recalcitrant hands. He couldn’t ruin your life, or worse, risk it, simply because losing you felt like dying.

The slow pace of time was driving him mad; he would swear that was why he couldn't get control of his shaking limbs. He kept his eyes on those trembling body parts, a familiar tickle at the back of his mind trying to help him escape his own thoughts. He could almost catch it, that something that wasn't quite right, that didn't quite add up about you and him and everything in between.

However, that other thought, the thought that he still had time to fix it, that you could still forgive him if he moved now, was all encompassing. How could he focus on irrelevancies when the pain was so huge? He was a being defined by his emotions, by his susceptibility to his own whims. He took what he wanted, kept what he took, but this was a paradox. He was having to deny himself what he wanted most, lest he risk his own power and freedom, and your safety.

He had been tortured and it hadn't hurt this much.

And moment by moment, as his hands stubbornly refused to stop shaking, he had to admit that his heart was shattering in his breast. He could no longer deny that his love for you was something of substance, something with weight. He'd tried to convince himself that his feelings for you were ephemeral, light and easily discarded, but the screaming pain rocketing through him proved him a liar. He loved you and he was losing you, but in agonizingly slow motion. He was having to make this choice, the choice to break both your hearts, each and every hour-long second.

He had never intended to love you, had known that loving you would make it that much harder to walk away when the time came. Being right didn't make him feel any better now. He would never get a chance to tell you how he felt, to watch your eyes light up, or see the curve of your mouth as you told him you loved him, too. Another layer of grief settled upon him, another wave of pain crashing over him.

Loki felt his stomach actually clench in pain and grief at the thought that he had no doubt that you had loved him. He'd known it when you'd come back to him of your own free will, but he'd never spoken of any emotion beyond affection, never allowed you to express anything beyond pleasure in his company or his touch. He'd believed if those feelings remained unspoken, their loss would hurt less. He'd been a fool.

And now he was forced to make himself sit still and do nothing as he lost yet another that he loved, and who he valued highest, one who loved him in return.

His knuckles turned white and in the next second the dress in his hands was in pieces on the floor as he pushed to his feet and moved away from the tatters. He didn't allow himself to watch as they fell, as he'd long since learned not to look back at what he'd lost.

To look back was to invite regret, or worse, remorse, and he had neither the luxury nor the inclination to concern himself with such things.

He had no doubt that you'd immediately understand the meaning and the seriousness of his absence when he'd gone to so much trouble to clean his presence from your world, to remove anything that might indicate to Heimdall that he'd ever been anywhere near you. Though he imagined you'd put the pieces together with only a cursory scan through your home, he knew the why would elude you. The why was the one thing you would need for forgiveness and yet he had no power to give it to you.

He did not dare to hope that you would not hate him for his cowardice.

Part Ten here >>

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#Loki x reader #Loki Odinson x reader #Loki fanfiction #Loki Odinson fanfiction #Loki fanfic #Loki Odinson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #Loki angst #Second Sight #series wip #pantswrites

[amandaoftherosemire]

Second Sight -- Part Eleven

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU/MCU AU

Pairing: Loki Odinson X fem!Reader

Characters: Loki Odinson

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4,969

Format: Series WIP

Warnings: Language, angst, fluff.

Summary: The kind of person who likes to keep your head down, you know you’ve made a huge mistake when you lock eyes with the god come to life that had attempted to take over your world. You find out you were right when Loki snatches you off the street. Able to see through his magic no matter what spells he weaves, your relationship began as his attempt to contain a vulnerability but somehow became a torrid affair. An affair that ended when he left without a word. Now that he’s returned, you have to decide whether you’ll even hear him out when he starts lying.

A/N: Now we’re cooking with gas! The muse is upon me and the words are flowing like wine. It’s a writer’s bacchanalia around here! I was editing the next chapter and realized it was getting too long so I decided to split it in two and give y’all the first half. More coming very soon!

<<Part Ten here

 Second Sight Part Eleven

 "Please."

The single word, a mere whisper of sound, was nevertheless enough to halt you in your tracks. Your back to him, you could hear the genuine plea in his tone, a sound you’d never before heard from him. You’d found ways to make him beg, but never plead, never had he shown you even a little emotional vulnerability. This quiet request, given as a supplicant, absent of demand, was enough to stop you from taking another step. His voice was lost and broken, and despite all your anger, all your will, it broke through your carefully crafted, indifferent façade. Like a brick wall, his pain wouldn’t allow your body to move any further away from him.

When you stopped and looked at him over your shoulder, he got to his feet and turned towards you. That you’d stopped, that you’d looked at him after the dismissal, was a signal that he still had a sliver of a chance, despite all your efforts to appear untouched by his reappearance. The couch remained between you, but there was an energy around him that told you he’d received that signal, that he'd have no trouble walking over your furniture should he decide to close the distance. You might have been able to resist the curve of his smile, but not the shine of his eyes.

"Don't dismiss me yet, my love." He continued to smile, but his eyes were frantic as they moved over your face, drenched with a hunger that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with emotion. "Let me explain."

If you had a weakness, more than any other, it was soft-eyed, tender Loki. He'd rarely shown you this side of himself, and you didn't know how to deny him when he asked anything with that particularly gentle gaze. As he’d looked at you, the smile that aimed to charm had softened into something sweet and affectionate. You tried to harden your heart against him, with only moderate success thanks to his gravitational pull, a force you could already feel drawing you in. You turned all the way around so that you were facing him but crossed your arms to defend against his attraction, to hold yourself back. “You have three minutes.”

Loki's smile spread with the beginnings of triumph, but he launched into his explanation immediately, well aware that he was being given a rare reprieve. It would not do to waste it. "Heimdall noticed when I touched you, but he didn't see me.” You didn’t know it, but you’d given him an opportunity to collect his thoughts while you’d mostly ignored him. He’d been able to look his fill at you without the pressure of the bottomless eyes that saw straight through him. In that time, he’d calmed his racing heart and decided on his approach. “You, though. You caught and held his attention.”

"Me?" Stunned, your arms fell to your side as you goggled at him. The shock wiped your mind clean of the defenses you’d been shoring up. This was completely unexpected, a reason for why he'd left that you'd never even considered. No matter how many wild theories had run through your mind in the midnight hours when sleep escaped you, this had simply never occurred to you. Your mind racing, your attention completely distracted, you asked, "Why?" in pure, unadulterated bafflement.

Your face was an honest expression of that bewilderment and Loki knew he had his foot in the door. The first prickles of relief ran over his scalp in reaction. A foot in the door was all he ever needed. With slow movements, carefully keeping his eyes on yours, he began to make his way around the couch and end table, closing the distance between you, but trying to not draw your attention to it. He desperately wanted to hold you, his skin aching for yours in response to the too-long denial, but he knew he needed to approach you cautiously, as he would a wild falcon.

He didn’t want to frighten you into flight, but neither did he want his eyes clawed out.

"I don't know," he replied as he moved sideways, his eyes still devouring your face. Now that you were looking at him with confusion instead of disdain, he was overjoyed to drown in your bottomless eyes once again. "I never found a way to ask him before he disappeared." His heart began to pound as he got nearer to you, racing harder with every step. He was forcing himself to ease toward you, though every minute he'd spent without you was urging him to rush.

You hadn’t crossed your arms again, confusion left you weak, your arms limp at your sides as you puzzled over the answer to the one question you hadn't been able to shake. Naturally, since you were dealing with Loki, there was no satisfaction in the answers you’d so desperately craved. Now you knew why he'd left, but not why he'd had to. You'd been so prepared to disbelieve any of his half-assed excuses for leaving you, you hadn't expected to deal with a real answer that led to a thousand more questions.

"He disappeared?" You asked it absently, your eyes staring into space as your brain raced furiously. You were tracking his approach, but on a back burner in your mind while you tried to figure out what could possibly make you so fascinating to Heimdall, thinking it bizarre that you’d drawn the attention of more than one Asgardian. You’d noted that Loki had moved enough that the couch was no longer between you, and he was still in motion, but the smooth, unthreatening pace and calm energy of his approach was bypassing your internal alarms.

Truly, you couldn't focus on anything except the puzzle of why Heimdall would take any interest in you. You knew from Loki that Heimdall was Thor's most dangerous ally, his piercing sight making him the most likely to catch Loki in his deception. You knew from Loki's library that Heimdall was the all-seeing guard of the Bifrost, capable of seeing anything in the Nine Realms, and quite probably farther. What you didn't know was why he'd looked twice at you.

Loki could see his words working on you, your body softening as he gave you what he so rarely offered anyone: the truth, such as it was. Even what measly excuses he could offer were nearly enough; he was almost close enough to touch you. “He had to,” he answered carelessly. “When he continued to watch you, I had to remove him." You looked up at that, surprised to hear that Heimdall had not only noticed you, but had found you interesting enough to keep watching. You could not understand. Loki shrugged, his voice casual despite the seriousness of his words, "I framed him as a traitor."

You caught your breath when you realized he was not joking. At that same moment, you also realized he was somehow right in front of you, close enough that the heat of his body was already reaching out. You couldn’t help your reaction, your breath sighing out in a shudder. He kept his hands to himself, to your confused disappointment, but his eyes fired at the sound. Still, the smart part of you appreciated that he didn’t touch you, hadn’t transgressed that boundary without invitation.

Your body yearned for his, despite knowing better than to give him any advantage, which is why you would not have let him get so close if you'd been paying attention. Resisting both the temptation he offered as well as your own traitorous body was near impossible. You focused on his words to try to ignore the heat in his eyes.

"You did what?" Even you could hear the breathlessness in your voice, and you were annoyed to discover that you'd been reduced to nothing but simple questions. The grin that flashed across his face in response to the sound of your breath catching in your throat made you want to bite him. You adored his arrogance, admired his unshakeable confidence. You also had to resist the urge to throttle him directly because of those traits at times. Such was the paradox of Loki.

Love and exasperation.

"He wouldn't stop watching you," his voice was a murmur now that he was so close and the sound shivered through you, a familiar stimulus that had an instinctual response and, without thought, you swayed toward him, "which put him in my way." Loki's wicked grin flashed again when you snapped straight just before you would have stepped into his waiting arms. He remained still; he could wait to get his hands on you now that he could see how tempted you were, how obvious your difficultly in holding yourself away from him.

Still, he wanted you with every cell of his being, would beg, borrow, or steal to get his hands on you as soon as possible. Being able to wait didn’t mean he wanted to.

"I got rid of him as fast as I could, on my oath." The rasp of his voice over the words was another familiar sound, one you knew from your time with him on Earth, when he most wanted to touch you but was not allowed. "I might have rushed it, to be honest, but it's hard to care about any of that when you're here in front of me."

Your eyes, caught watching his mouth move, snapped to his to search for deception. You knew that he was silver-tongued, that he could talk his way around anything and anyone when he really put his mind to it. The fire and feeling in his eyes told you that convincing you was the most important thing in his world right now. Somehow, you believed him, the love in emerald light shining out at you too real to resist. You lost the battle with your body and stepped forward.

Loki's hands came up as though he'd been waiting for his cue, long, pale fingers cupping your face as his thumbs moved over your cheeks. Your breath shuddered out on a sigh as his skin met yours. You might have been ashamed had you not heard an equally shaky breath escape him at the same moment.

Loki could hardly believe it, but he was genuinely lightheaded at the touch of your skin against his. He didn’t know how, or why, but the simple truth had been enough to sway you, enough to talk you back into his arms. A crow of triumph, of relief, sounded in his mind as he gloried in the heat of your body, the clarity of your gaze as you searched his face with suspicious eyes.

You could hear the pounding of your own heart rushing through your head, knew you were giving in too easy, but you didn't know how to resist this gentle wooing. Loki used the tender clasp of his hands around your face to pull you closer until your body was brushing against him. You may have been able to hold yourself away if not for the aching emotion moving over his face.

"I want the power," he smirked, "and petty revenge," you smirked back, and he grinned with wicked glee at having his match, his partner, with him in body and mind, "of usurping my father's throne." He paused, and his voice dropped to a whisper as his head dipped to yours. If he could, he’d install you as queen at his side, knowing you to be his perfect partner, the one he wanted with him in heart and soul as well. "I want you more."

The next moment, his mouth was on yours. To your delight and dismay, the touch of his lips to yours brought everything back into focus. Once you were twining around him, once his mouth was on yours, the world righted itself. Despite every effort to the contrary, you had never stopped feeling like you belonged with him, and now that you were back in his arms, you felt like you'd finally returned home.

Rather than the tempest of emotion you'd expected, Loki brushed his lips over your mouth, your cheeks, your nose, your temples, your eyelids. Surprised, as your time with him had almost always been marked by passion and drama, turmoil and tumult, you stood weak and stunned as he adored your face with his mouth and eyes. Between each kiss, he pulled back to see you, devouring your face with his gaze, starved for the sight of you. His hands cupped your cheeks tenderly, taken over by the solace of finally seeing you again. He'd missed the very sight of you with such fervor, the expressions that moved across your features overwhelmed him. Your face, your bottomless eyes, were infinitely precious to him, and he had to take a moment to rememorize what you looked like, back in his arms.

Once his mouth met yours, however, he sank in with a hum of relief and pleasure. As much as he’d missed your face, he hadn’t neglected fantasizing about your body in the long days and nights without you. His hands finally released your face, but only so his arms could wrap around your waist and enfold you. He pulled you in until you were surrounded by his big body, wrapped in his wild scent. Your head spun and you twined your arms around his neck as much to steady yourself as to pull yourself closer to him. Once pressed against him, however, you lost all interest in putting your feet back on solid ground.

You'd dared to dream he'd return someday, despite the voice inside your head that berated you for such fantasies. That chiding voice insisted such dreams were poison, demanded you move on from them, and you’d tried. Even when you’d dared dream he’d return, it was because he’d gotten bored, or lonely, and wanted to revel in his cleverness with someone who knew his secrets.

You'd never dreamed that he'd return because he loved you, because he'd never wanted to leave in the first place. That such a thing could be possible had never been allowed to occur to you, the thought too dangerously, wonderfully painful. Such desperation within you made it hard to believe. Still, the fire and fervor with which he held you, kissed you, persuaded, made you think that maybe he was telling the truth about how felt. You couldn't understand it, but you also couldn't deny it. You loved him, wanted him with the same mindless need he evidently had for you.

If it turned out he was selling a fantasy, it was high quality, and you were in the market.

You still had questions in need of answers, still fully intended to interrogate him at the first opportunity. But you also had an ocean of feeling to express, and you'd missed him so much. You couldn’t really care why he was back when your bodies were pressed together from breast to groin. When he nipped at your bottom lip, his teeth a slight prickle of pain, you tightened your arms around his neck and deliberately deepened the kiss with a small growl of need.

Loki could hardly believe how good it felt to have you back in his arms, your mouth moving over his in both invitation and demand. He had expected a great deal more hostility, and a mountain more resistance, but giving you the beginning of the truth had allowed him, thankfully, to pass it by. He was feeling smug when he pulled back enough to slide his hands down to your thighs to lift you up and around him.

That smug sensation evaporated when you broke the kiss by pulling back to brace your hands on his shoulders. You fixed him with a narrow stare, halting him with his hands still gripping the backs of your thighs. “We both knew we had an expiration date,” you said, your voice breaking a little, the emotions too close to the surface to hide effectively. “This was an ending.” No matter the thrills shimmering through your body at the feeling of Loki against you, on a back burner in your mind you couldn't stop thinking about it, had to know more before you moved forward. You'd broken your heart over Loki once; you didn't know if you could survive it a second time. "Why did you come back when it just has to end again?"

The pain that moved across his face was answer enough, an agony carved deep into the lines around his mouth, his eyes. There in front of your eyes was the evidence; he'd come back because he hadn't had any other choice, any more than you did. You were equals in this, at least. "Because in all the years," his hands, which had never left the back of your thighs, tightened as he lifted you, "all the worlds," wrapping your legs around his waist, he held you there, nose to nose with him, with a warm grip on your ass, "I've never met anyone I like as well as you." His eyes were intense and serious even as his lips quirked wryly, and your heart, already mostly wooed by his words, returned to him without reservation, regardless of what your mind might have to say to about it.

Your mind was equally persuaded, however, certain that you saw Loki more clearly than most, that you had learned enough about the God of Mischief to see his tells. If he was lying, you could believe nothing. With a shamefully frantic hiccup of sound, you leaned forward, taking his mouth in a long, generous kiss. Shame, despair, pain, everything faded away at the feeling of his mouth against yours, soft lips clinging to yours. Though it started tender and warm, before long your hands were buried in his hair like the last time had been only yesterday, as though the last four hundred and ninety-seven days had never happened.

But they had happened, and the enormity of your lost love, now that you'd regained it, hit you like a freight train. You broke the kiss to bury your face in between your arm and his neck, locking a sob inside as best you could. You didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to reveal the weakness, old habits hard to break. Your shield had been perfect; you hadn't shed a tear in months, it seemed silly to start up again now that he had returned, but the grief was in your throat, nonetheless.

Loki was having none of this. He had endured far too long without looking into your eyes; he had no intention of avoiding them now that he was with you again. If he wasn’t kissing you, he wanted to see your face. “Look at me, darling,” he said as he walked down the hallway to the linen closet door that once again held the portal to his pocket dimension. He had never removed the runes that created it, merely deactivated them to discourage the temptation to return to you before it was time. He’d had to stop himself from reactivating them on more than one occasion over the long months without you.

Though he wanted to open the door and take you through, he knew he needed your permission first. He didn't like reminding you of your fraught history under the best of circumstances. He knew you were offering only a precarious truce; he would not risk it. Instead, he pressed you against the door with his body, freeing his hands to loosen your arms from around his neck. He pulled back enough to look into your eyes, wet with tears he could see were held back only by your iron will. His heart clenched.

"I came back because I can't stay away," he whispered before snatching a quick kiss from lips already swollen from his. "I love you, y/n." You lost control of one tear, but he reached up to catch it on his thumb, the single traitor proof of your equally traitorous heart, and more precious to him than everything in his father’s vault. He felt lightheaded with relief, grateful that he still held the key to your heart, despite all he’d done. His lips met yours again in a kiss meant to reassure, to comfort.

By the time you let him lift his head, both of your hands were buried in his hair, the press of his body against yours and the vise of your legs around his waist holding you up and twined around him. One of his hands was clamped around your thigh, the other climbing up your ribcage toward your breast. He didn’t want to push too far, too fast, the scowl still shadowing your face holding him back the slightest bit. He laughed quietly, a shaky, joyous rasp, but he hesitated at the tears still shimmering in your eyes.

"If you insist that I beg forgiveness for how I had to leave you,” he nuzzled your mouth gently with his own and every part of you melted in response, “I will do so, but I am not used to such things, so I'm bound to be bad at it.” He flashed you a smile rich and sweet, coated in charm, trying to lift the shadow from your eyes.

You couldn't laugh yet. The way he’d left had cut you to the quick, the recovery from that a long and arduous journey. He couldn’t simply waltz in and expect you to forget all the pain he’d caused you. Having him return didn't take away the hurt. "You didn't even leave a note." Though the venom in your tone was a memory, it still had sting. Loki sobered immediately.

"Oh, I know, darling." His grip on you shifted so that he was holding you less forcefully, one arm sliding around your back, the other under your ass, cuddling you close. His voice was a croon as he pressed his cheek against yours. He'd never been so affectionate, so open in his emotions, and you didn’t know how to cope with it. You were afraid to believe it, so at odds was it from the person you'd known. You wanted to think that this was who he’d always been under the wicked smiles and sly remarks, but you knew he put on illusions way others put on clothes. You couldn’t be certain you were immune to this kind of mirage.

"I’m sorry for that," he went on when you stayed silent. He pulled his face back from your cheek to find you staring at him with limpid eyes. He hoped with all of this heart that this wasn't the sticking point, that this wasn't the thing you couldn't forgive. He'd despised himself when he'd left you without a word; he'd hardly expected you to take it well. "I knew you'd hate me for that. I missed you so, but I knew you were cursing me." He rested his forehead against yours as the corner of his mouth lifted in a pained half-smile. "The thought of it tormented me."

You didn't pull away, but you didn't move either. You kept your eyes on his, surprised to see what looked like genuine remorse there. Despite your suspicion of Loki, both learned and instinctual, you believed him. You knew what Loki looked like when he was lying, and this wasn’t it. Your eyes narrowed and you answered his soft confession with a curt and cold, "Good."

Loki's head snapped back in shock, but then the corners of your mouth turned up, a very little bit, and the teasing light he adored sparked in your eyes. "That's my love,” he laughed in triumph, squeezing you with cheerful affection, his relief making him playful. Still smiling, he gently disentangled himself from you to set you carefully on your feet. Once you were standing on your own, he took your hand in his as the other waved to open your linen closet door where the veil between worlds shimmered once more. Cradling your hand between his, he lifted it to press his lips against the back.

When his head lifted, he looked at you in a dazzling, wholly unfamiliar way. Affection mixed with mischief but with a vulnerability he'd never allowed you to see before, the expression on his face was irresistible. You didn't need his next words; you were already seduced. "Let me take you to our home," he turned your hand to press his lips to the center of your palm and sent shivers over your skin, "give me time to show you how I adore you."

You were strongly tempted to take the initiative and draw him through the veil yourself, but you knew you couldn't give in that easily, regardless of the inevitable outcome. The banter was part of it, always had been. Loki would always value that which he had to entice, or steal. You would always enjoy making him work for it, found the fact that he would enormously satisfying. The two of you fit together, whether it made sense or not.

"I should say no." You lifted a brow as you stepped back, though you made no effort to extricate your hand from his. Your smile was sultry and your voice throaty with the desire his touch had ignited. "I have no reason to trust you, not after how you left. You could be lying through your teeth."

You didn't move when Loki stepped towards you, closing the distance you'd put between you, but careful to not touch you beyond the warm press of his hands around yours. You wouldn't retreat any further, his persistent pursuit part of the thrill between you, your consistent challenge to his control or command a constant temptation to his mind, body, and ego.

"Through my teeth?" he murmured, softly mocking amusement on his face and in his tone. Your lips twitched, reminded of how often the two of you ran afoul of each other’s idioms when trying to communicate. Of all the cultural differences you’d expected to cause you problems, turns of phrase had not been on the list.

"I don't know what it means either," you smirked, and the laughter trembling at the corners of your mouth made Loki's heart speed in recognition, "except that you're a liar, who lies." Love and relief made him lightheaded even as the twinkle in your eyes sent cascades of sensation through him. He’d missed this kind of adversarial love, missed the pretty way you teased him, enticed him. He missed the thrill of teasing and enticing you.

His wicked grin flashed again, a knowing spark of sly desire in his eyes, convincing you once and for all that that he was well aware of your susceptibility to the mischief that marked him. He lifted your hand to his chest, placing your palm against his pounding heart so that you could feel how you affected him, and the juxtaposition between temptation and vulnerability made your head spin.

"Not about this." His head dipped slightly, so that he could bring his gaze close, his eyes intense on yours. He was trying his best to make promises, the kind he would actually try to keep, and such things being foreign to him, he wasn’t sure he was doing it right or getting through to you. "Not to you," he smirked, his mouth twisting with self-deprecation, "at least, at this moment."

At this, you couldn't hold back anymore, losing your battle with your own warped sense of humor. Unable to help yourself: you burst out laughing. Grateful to see your genuine enjoyment in him, his face lit up when your indifferent façade melted away in the warmth of your love for him. Feeling lighter and freer than he had in longer than he could imagine, his arm slid around your waist, and he dragged you close to snatch a kiss from your laughing mouth.

Because both of you had opened up to the other, whether you’d noticed or not, the kiss spun out and deepened into a soft, sweet meeting of mouths. You kissed each other with the tenderness of comfort, trying to ease the pain being separated had caused. You were offering solace as you offered your mouth, and Loki gave it back. When the kiss ended, Loki nuzzled against your mouth, overwhelmed with his love for you. A whisper against your lips, he tempted one more time, “Let me tell you; let me show you."

You couldn’t be sure, and you wondered at yourself that you’d considered the possibility at all, but it seemed like Loki had spent some time in self-reflection while you'd been apart, much as you had. Whatever he’d learned, he’d come back to you humbled, if only the barest amount. It only made him that much more appealing. You'd already been fighting a losing battle; this soft-eyed sweetness was all too much. He was asking to let him love you, which had been what you’d wanted all along. The next moment, he spoke, and the sadness in the word broke down the last of your defenses.

"Please."

You were done. There was no question. Only one final token resistance was called for, one you’d teased him with a thousand times before. After a shaky breath in, you whispered in response. "I shouldn't."

"With you," his arm tightened, hope lighting in his eyes, "that used to immediately precede the word 'yes.'"

You dropped any remaining pretense of resistance, your body relaxing into his with a sigh. Your weight shifted until your body was leaning into his and you rested your head against his shoulder, though your voice still carried a touch of petulance, just to make him laugh. "It still does."

Part Twelve here>>

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#Loki Odinson x reader #Loki x reader #Loki Odinson fanfiction #Loki fanfiction #Loki Odinson fanfic #Loki fanfic #Marvel fanfiction #Marvel fanfic #MCU fanfiction #MCU fanfic #pantswrites #second sight #series wip

[amandaoftherosemire]

Hey guys! I've been migrating my masterlist over to AO3. With Lightning Strikes, I've done some minor rewrites. The changes aren't much, just a little more foreshadowing in the beginning and tweaking for clarity. There are no real changes to the plot, but since there are some changes, I thought I'd let anyone know who might want to check out the differences.

#pantswrites #lightning strikes #ao3 link #fanfic #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #thor fanfiction

[amandaoftherosemire]

Guys! I’m doing it again! 😳😳😳

#I AM working on Second Sight #I swear! #I’m just writing thousands of unrelated words also #Manda rambles #Manda writes #pants writes #pantswrites

[amandaoftherosemire]

In the Rosemire

The Rosemire is a lovely place, most of the time. At least, it depends on your definition of lovely. But if you like moss and rain and shadows, there are worse places to discover at the end of a path you found while lost in the woods. There are almost always flowers, and even the worst days of winter are generally more dreary than dangerous. The inhabitants may be odd and shy of strangers, but once trust is given, welcome is understood. If you don't mind sitting on a stump and listening to the bog creature that resides in the swamp tell stories and sing the day away, you'll always have a stump of your own and an expansive and warm generosity at your disposal.

Except in late summer. August, traditionally, but climate change has disturbed this little patch of land, too. Earth is a closed system, as much as we'd like to ignore the truth of it, and a stone dropping into the ocean on one shore makes the ripple that becomes the wave that crashes against another. In recent years, August has reached out to bake July as well.

Unfortunately, once the local temperature climbs above 90° F (~32° C for those from metric countries, and me since I'm trying to be better than I was raised), most movement in the Rosemire ceases. The bog creature rarely leaves the swamp, and only when necessary. She only tells stories about how unhappy she is, how hot it is, how it should not be so hot, how it didn't used to be this hot and you get the point. In August, the Mire is dry and brown and ugly and the creature that lives there is a boring lump who deals with that by staying quiet until she is at least more enthusiastic if not any more interesting.

However, this year the clouds rolled in a little early, and someone who'd found the path before started calling, so the bog creature (me) poked her head up so that her eyes were above the water line and she could see the picture a friend had brought. Some folks that had wandered through had left messages checking in or saying kind things about the stories. The rain had started, and the cool gray light and soft drizzle falling from the sky made her feel like the words that had remained so elusive for so long might be willing to return.

The creature cannot refuse anyone who asks for a story. Especially when they only want her to finish one already started. The Rosemire has been dormant, but the creature is still here.

#just checking #making sure i can still write purple prose #this is even more purple than usual #swamp witch or bog creature #either sounds better than the current capitalist dystopia #a girl can dream right #pantswrites #manda rambles