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five-hxrgreeves · 11 months

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An Unexpected Plan

PAIRING: loki laufeyson x reader

POWERS: none

WC: 2.6

SUMMARY: As a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, it was safe to say that you had seen a lot of strange things in your day. Glowing cubes from space, aliens and planetary-scale Armageddons were considered just another day at the office. However, the opening of the multiverse means infinite possibilities, including some that you’d never expect.

WARNINGS: possibly ooc Loki? (this is my first time writing him.)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: So this is based off the post-credit scene in Ant Man: Quantumania for the sneak peek of the Loki series s2. I actually have s1 written on Wattpad with an OC (called Everybody Wants to Rule the World if you want to check it out!), but since Tumblr likes x reader more, I took out the oc. This was an idea I’ve had since I watched s1 so I finally just decided to write a one-shot of it. It may not be accurate to the rest of s2 once it’s released since I just made up some stuff around the 3-second clip that we got.

As a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, it was safe to say that you had seen a lot of strange things in your day. From glowing space cubes of unknown origin to aliens trying to take over New York, the realm of what you considered impossible had broadened over the years. Your considerably high rank as a field agent had allowed you to experience some of these things first hand, which was both a blessing and a curse. It was more so the latter now as you’d been tasked with keeping the notorious trickster God of mischief from living up to his name. Luckily, you were well-equipped for the job— and more than just in the weapons department; you had the uncanny ability to see through lies. (This proved to be exceptionally helpful in an organization whose secrets had secrets.)

However, it was only after more than a decade of service that you were finally thinking that maybe you had bitten off more than you could chew. The God of Mischief had certainly earned his title; in an unforeseen turn of events, he’d gotten his hands on the Tesseract a second time and, before he could whisk himself away to who-knew-where to wreak more havoc, you’d latched onto his arm at the last second to join him for the spin as well. (At least nobody could ever say that you weren’t dedicated to your work.) After that, things had taken a turn for the worse and you’d both been taken to a mysterious time agency and had narrowly escaped death. (Well, maybe death was still on the table— your inevitable end had just been postponed.)

Needless to say, you and Loki hadn’t started out as the best of friends. When you weren’t trying to kill each other (verbally, at least), you glared at one another in sulky silences. But, as they say, trauma draws people together. Somewhere along the line between the end of the world and multiple variations of yourselves, you’d become something akin to. . . acquaintances? Allies? Not necessarily friends, but bonded by enough strange events to have a tentative trust with each other. You were almost certain that Loki wanted more from your relationship, but you hadn’t really forgiven him for what he’d done in New York and besides— whoever heard of a mortal and a God getting a good ending?

Now, however, none of that really seemed to matter; being displaced from your timeline certainly held a bigger threat than whatever was going on between the two of you. After your world-shattering revelation that the statue in the TVA’s library was no longer of three space lizards, but Kang himself you scrambled for answers and solutions. In a desperate attempt to understand the new situation you were in, you’d gotten the new-Mobius’ help of locating (a) Kang in this present timeline, which happened to be in the Victorian Era.

Although the three of you were hidden in shadows in the back of the theater where Kang’s presentation was taking place, your instincts were on high alert. The past few days? (Months?) had taught you that nothing was as it seemed. Even if Kang was currently pretending that he hadn’t seen your little group, you knew not to underestimate him. Every muscle in your body was tense, ready to flee the theater at a moment’s notice if necessary. If you were less of an agent and more of a civilian, you might have even grabbed Loki’s hand— which was only inches from yours in the cramped space— as an expression of the fear that you currently felt. (While you were a seasoned veteran and had seen much in your day, any sane person who knew what Kang was capable of would be scared of him.) Loki seemed to share your trepidation as his eyes never left the enigmatic presenter.

Mobius spoke in a whisper from the God’s other side: “you made him sound like this terrifying figure!”

Neither you nor Loki took your attention away from the man at the front of the room as you replied in sync, “he is.”

As if he’d heard your quiet conversation, Kang’s— in this timeline called Victor— gaze snapped to where you were standing. Although his expression didn’t change and he continued to speak to the crowd, you felt an icy wash of fear trickle down your spine. Instinctively, your weight shifted forward to your toes as you prepared to flee, knowing it wouldn’t be good if Kang or any of his variations caught you as he surely intended to.

You exchanged a glance with Loki, almost one of the same mind after you’d experienced meeting He Who Remains the first time. For Mobius’ benefit, the God breathed out: “run.”

You didn’t need to be told twice; the three of you (after some prompting to get the TVA agent moving) pushed your way as calmly— but also hurriedly— as possible through the crowd to reach the doors. While there wasn’t anyone visibly chasing after you yet, you knew better than to be fooled by the appearance of peace. Once you’d reached the busy London street, you exchanged a look with the men. Not wanting to waste anymore time, you gave one word of warning: “if we get split up, good luck.”

Then, you broke into the fastest run you could considering the crowds of people, animals and carts that went about their daily business. (How nice it would be to not be aware of the multiverse, time travel, interdimensional threats. . . but you consoled yourself that you’d probably become too bored with such a quiet life.) Unsurprisingly, Loki was able to keep pace with you pretty easily— considering he was a God who had to match your extensive training— but Mobius seemed to struggle, especially with dodging obstacles. That was fine, though (as mean as that sounded), since Kang wasn’t after him.

As you ran at a (mostly) steady pace through the winding London streets, cries and shouts began to sound from behind you— it seemed that Kang and his variants were giving the chase. You blocked out the sounds as you focused on running; one foot in front of the other, arms swinging, bent, by your sides, breaths even: in, out, in, out. You ran as you’d been trained to do: for your life. You were so focused on staying ahead of the Kangs that you even lost track of your “running partner” as Loki seemed to fall out of your peripheral vision.

You rounded a corner, and then another, and then— a hand reached out to grab your arm. If given the choice between fight or flight, your always chose the former; you reacted instantly, kicking out with your feet as you attempted to put your attacker in a headlock to take them down.

It was only after a couple seconds of struggling (why wouldn’t this peasant man go down? Didn’t they eat a diet of potatoes and gruel?), you finally registered the man’s protests: “whoa, hey! It’s me— it’s me!”

You let go to eye him suspiciously. In a flash of green, Loki’s familiar form appeared and you let out a sigh of relief which (as it usually was when it came to him) was quickly followed by irritation. “Okay, what the hell? I know you’re the fricken’ God of Mischief and all, but is now really a time to pull tricks?”

“It’s not a trick,” he reassured you. “Well, perhaps it is, in a sense— we can disguise ourselves and blend in, get them off our tail.”

The disguise of a peasant man returned, complete with grubby clothes and matted hair. You curled your lips in disgust. “Far cry from being an Asgardian prince, huh?” you mocked him. “And besides, there’s two flaws to that brilliant plan: one, what about me? I don’t have magic, so pulling me aside to tell me this is just a waste of time. And second, I’m pretty sure Kang the Conqueror can see through something this. . . elementary.”

The peasant man scowled at you, displeased by your jabs. “This is genius, first of all. Before you go touting that you know all about magic, mortal, I can share illusions. Doesn’t your super-secret special agent school teach you self-preservation, or are you willing to take the chance and outrun an impossible amount of Kangs?”

You pursed your lips, weighing your options. As much as you hated to admit it, Loki was right; taking a chance on him was probably better then depending on your running abilities. (Although, to be fair, you were a pretty good runner.) You matched his annoyed expression and crossed your arms against your chest. “Fine, we’ll do it your way— but for the record, my father taught me self-preservation.”

The God smirked at you in that irritating way of his and extended his arm towards you. “Take my hand.”

You watched him skeptically for a moment, remembering how he’d openly admitted to flirting with you in the hours before you’d confronted the Void. As you hesitated— your fatal flaw— you listened for your pursuers and heard faint shouts from their rough interactions with the common people. They were still some distance away, but not comfortable enough to completely forego Loki’s plan. You sighed and— with as much distain as you could muster— took the God’s hand.

There wasn’t anything immediately different about your appearance; when you looked down, you could still see your now-worn combat gear and dusty boots. However, when you looked over at the man next to you, you no longer saw a peasant man; Loki was back to being his infuriating (ahem, handsome) self. You frowned in confusion as you lifted your hand, turning it back and forth to try and see the difference.

“You don’t see the illusion when you’re in it,” he explained with an impossible amount of smugness. “I can assure you, however, that we look as much the same as the rest of this doldrum crowd.”

You gave him a curt nod. “Fine,” you said again. “Let’s try to get out of here, shall we?”

They made their way back onto the main street, looking just the same as the rest of the passers-by. To the rest of the common people, they merely looked like a peasant couple holding hands, out for a nice stroll. Speaking of— “shouldn’t we run?” you asked, looking over your shoulder. Although you couldn’t see the Kangs because of the crush of people, you knew they were there.

“That would draw attention to us,” Loki replied evenly, keeping the steady pace. “All parts of the illusion must be convincing for it to work.”

So, as much as all of your instincts screamed at you to run, you forced yourself to match his steps. Thankfully, the busy city was too noisy to have conversation, otherwise you might have strangled Loki right on the street. (Okay, maybe you weren’t at each other’s throats as often anymore, but he still annoyed the hell out of you.)

It happened suddenly: one moment, you were walking along with Loki at a brisk pace, and the next a man with a golden pharaoh’s headdress appeared next to them. His dark, intense eyes swept the area as he mercilessly pushed carts and people out of his way. Your grip on Loki’s hand tightened in warning, causing the God to look down at you. You jerked your head to the dark-skinned man dressed in gold. His eyes followed your motion and widened before he quickly looked away. Neither of you spoke since the illusion wouldn’t disguise your voice, but your pace picked up slightly.

The next few minutes were very tense as you waited to see if Loki’s illusions would work. It seemed as if the Kang in the Egyptian-styled clothes was tailing you. Loki knew that his magic could only do so much; to the well-trained eye, a very faint glimmer of green could still be seen. They needed to make their illusion even more believable; to do something so out of the ordinary— something that was entirely ordinary, actually— that it would convince even the keenest of observers (which surely Kang was.)

The idea came to him in an instant, causing his chest to fill with warmth. While this would certainly not be his first kiss, it would be his first kiss with you. (And, if he were being uncharacteristically honest, it might be his only chance.) Loki glanced at the Agent out of the corner of his eye, knowing how poorly such a proposal would be received. But, this was a viable suggestion to get the Kangs away from them. So, he tugged the woman next to him to a stop.

You turned to look at the God with an irritated expression. “Need a break, do you?”

Loki was looking down at you intently, his emerald gaze holding yours. Perhaps for the first time, he ignored your dig. “Kiss me.”

Not sure if you heard him right, you stared at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“Kiss me,” he repeated, a little more urgently. He glanced up at the Egyptian Kang who still lingered nearby. He lowered his voice as he hastily explained, “he suspects us. No one looks twice at two people kissing.”

“You’re cra— mmph,” your furious retort was cut off as he placed his lips on yours.

Again, your first impulse was to run, but this time for a different reason. It had been a long time since you’d kissed anyone— since your last love had ended in disaster. You’d vowed to never let anyone this close again after that, but here you were, allowing the God of Mischief to kiss you on a busy street. People brushed past you and jostled you, but Loki’s hands lightly held your arms, keeping you in place. You still had half a mind to push him away and ask what the hell was he thinking, but the other half of your thoughts registered how. . . good of a kisser he was.

You supposed that over a thousand years of practice certainly had its benefits. His lips were soft but insistent on yours, there was just enough tongue movement to make your stomach swoop (the traitor) and although you would deny it if asked, you could feel the electricity zip through you from the action. Just as your shock wore off enough to really kiss him back, Loki pulled away, his gaze flicking over your head to watch the crowd.

“He’s gone,” the God said with relief. Once he’d assessed that the danger had passed, he looked down at you with a smirk. “For someone who claims to hate me so much, I expected you to slap me instead of kiss me.”

You glared at him, any semblance of warmth that had come from the kiss disappearing as quickly as mist in the sun. “That can still be arranged.”

He gave you a shit-eating grin and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, Agent. Tell me you didn’t enjoy that.”

You shoved his arm away and turned to resume your path through the crowd, your head held high. “I didn’t. Let’s go find Mobius. Hopefully he hasn’t gotten trampled by a stray horse or something.”

Since you’d already refocused on the mission at hand, you missed the way the God’s smug expression faltered slightly at your stout rejection. It only lasted for a fraction of a second before he quickly recovered and hurried to catch up with you. Grabbing your wrist, he added, “we should still keep our disguises up, just in case.”

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