Summary: He’s supposed to be teaching you how to work this stupid space-Viking longboat, but Loki’s interests seem to lie elsewhere…
Word Count: 1447
Pairing: Loki/Reader
Rating: M (smut)
A/N: Someone mentioned Loki dirty talk and like… I have a thing for Loki acting all blasé and refusing to shut up while he’s getting down to his seducin’ 🖤 So here’s this thing. I’mma go hide somewhere now
Summary: You’d think that handling PR for a team of people who literally just saved half of the known universe would be pretty darn easy…
… but you’d be wrong.
Word Count: 720
Pairing: Loki/Reader
A/N: Really quick little ficlet that popped in my head during my walk to get lunch today! Y’all have been so sweet, so I figured this might be a nice little way to say thank you! 😊
“It’s just… I really think—”
“I don’t care what you think, you wretched little serving wench—”
“Okay, hang on just a second there.” Mr. Stark steps up beside you, straightening his tie, and you cringe; the boss is having to jump in and come to your rescue on your very first day?
Great.
“First off,” he says, “She’s an employee, not a servant. Servants are so old-world, and that’s not exactly the image I’m going for with my brand, in case you haven’t noticed. Second, if she was a servant, she’d be mine, because I pay all the bills. And third—”
Breaking off suddenly, he turns and snatches a cup of coffee from the hand of a very eager-looking assistant. “Thanks. Third, she’s right. Lose the antlers, Blitzen.”
Loki’s eyes narrow dangerously, and you stand there like the awkward third wheel that you are in this little hero-versus-villain staredown, wondering why you’d ever been so excited about getting this job in the first place.
“Very well,” he finally says, his lips parting in a smile that he doesn’t even bother trying to make vaguely sincere. “I would so hate to make a bad impression, after all.” His ridiculous golden helmet shimmers out of existence, and you try to hide the fact that you’re incredibly relieved he backed down without more of a fight.
Be perky! you order yourself. Stay positive!
After all, being on the PR team for the Avengers seems like a pretty good job to have right now… they did just save half the universe.
“If you want to be able to turn the tide of public opinion in your favor, Mr. Laufeyson,” you venture, “then public appearances like the one today are the best way to do it. Earth needs heroes, especially now. We want you to seem…”
Your voice fades, because he’s glaring at you like he wants to turn you inside-out, and your throat is suddenly painfully dry. Making enemies on the first day. Wonderful.
“Seem… how?” Loki asks, leaning down just enough to call attention to the fact that he towers over you. “Trustworthy? Redeemed?”
“Do you not… is that not what you want?”
“He’s doing it either way,” Mr. Stark says. “If I’m gonna keep sticking my neck out for you, Loki, then you’re going to make things a lot easier for me by at least pretending to be a happy little member of Team Save the World. I don’t want any more pitchforks and bonfires outside of my front door, thanks.”
As he walks away to charm one of the directors, Mr. Stark turns back for just a moment. “Or you can go back to Asgard and hang out with your dad,” he says. “I guess it’s up to you.”
Loki’s nostrils flare slightly, and he turns to look back down at you, somehow making you feel like you’re only about two feet tall. “Any other suggestions you’d like to share before the show begins?” he asks with false pleasantness, taking half a step closer towards you, forcing you to crane your neck to meet his gaze.
Don’t step back, don’t step back.
He’ll only take it as a sign that he’s intimidating you, and while it’s true, it isn’t exactly the impression that you want to leave. You glance around for help, but Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner are already seated in front of the cameras, and it looks like the crew’s almost ready to start rolling.
“No,” you manage, and you even pull off an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “That was all. Break a leg.”
And then your breath catches in your throat as you realize that you might’ve made a poor choice of words, because something truly concerning sparks in the god’s eyes as he leans down to whisper in your ear.
“I just might break yours, mortal,” he murmurs, and then he sweeps past you.
Heart pounding, you watch on the monitor as he struts onto the stage with a charming smile on his unfairly-handsome face, greeting the show host with all of the enthusiasm of someone reconnecting with an old friend.
Man, he’s good. When he wants to be.
But then he turns slightly and looks directly at the camera, a dangerous glint in his eyes, and you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that it’s meant for you.
A/N: Don’t know if I should make this a series or an imagine, but I intend to write a second part regardless sooo…series? Positive feedback and critique is always appreciated!
Summary: You’re a junior scientist working at a world renowned facility. In a sick twist of fate, your life turns to chaos as you find yourself being the sole witness in a string of ongoing attacks, being investigated by the Avengers.
Warnings: Descriptions of violence, weapons, blood, profanity, etc.
PART I
Had you been told what your future held, you would have made different choices when you were younger. You would have broken up with your first love a lot sooner, tried sushi despite the concerning health risks, or bought that crop top from the boutique below your flat. In this moment, there is no doubt in your frantic mind that the culmination of your apparent, short life, was nothing but painful and bitter regret.
Your eyes are tightly shut and there’s a ball of fear lodged in your throat. You’re on your knees, hiding, praying, and trying not to scream, but the feeling of your coworkers’ blood is warm and wet and-
Click.
Your eyes open to see the culprit- the murderer– with her gun aimed at your head.
“Get up,” she orders and you comply. The once white laboratory is a mess, and you whimper at the carnage before you. With a harsh nudge, the blonde, masked woman pushes you forward. You don’t ask where she’s taking you.
You already knew.
Of course, working at a world class facility for biochemical research comes with certain risks, but you’d expected to be taken down by a super bacteria, not a freaking bullet.
“Stop walking. Open the doors.”
Common sense and self-preservation told you to comply, but you knew how dangerous the materials behind those doors were, especially in the hands of that sick son of a bitch.
‘Don’t be a hero, Y/N. Do what she says. Don’t die. Don’t die today.’
“Hurry the fuck up. My patience is dwindling. Fast.” She presses the gun into your temple.
“I…can’t.”
‘I’m such a dumbass. Fuck. Shit…fuckfuckfuckfuu-’
“Oh?” she nudges the gun against your head. Harder this time. “How about now?”
You want to scream. You’re terrified, angry, frustrated, sick. You want to live, but the math is simple. One life- your life- versus the several out there…
The heavy rhythm of someone’s footsteps cause your oppressor to still. You hold your breath.
“You heard the lady.Back away from the door and drop the gun.”
Your focus shifted from the woman in front of you to the source of the deep voice- a long haired man in a combat suit, holding a rifle in his metal arm.
“You alright, ma’am?” He asks kindly. You give him an incredulous look.
You want to say: “I’m covered in the blood of my coworkers, their murderer has a gun pressed to my head, and I’m being forced to aid someone in possible biochemical warfare.”
Instead, you shake your head ‘no’, incredibly wary of your attacker’s presence. The man inches closer at your response.
“Forget it, Soldier. She comes with me, or this facility, along with every civilian within a five-mile radius, is blown to dust,” the blonde assassin threatens.
Your would-be saviour is about to call her bluff before she interrupts him.
“Go on,” she taunts, “confirm it with your fellow Avengers.”
‘Avengers?’ you think, daring to exhale in relief. Perhaps there was hope for you yet.
“What’s your name?” There’s a tense pause before you realise the soldier directed the question at you.
“Y/N. My name is Y/N.” You whisper. The man- the Avenger– lowers his gun and you begin to panic even more, but he holds your gaze steady in his and says,
“I need you to open the door for her, Y/N?”
‘What?’
“But I-“ you begin to protest, but the stern look he gives you, combined with the smug demeanour of the deadly woman stops you. With slow and heavy hands, you tap in a code you’d never used until now, and lead the woman into the open prohibited zone.
“See, Y/N. Was that so hard?”
You don’t need to face her to notice her smirk. Her tone was expression enough. Blonde hair and black eyes were her only identifiable features, but the image of her half-hidden face and the fear it invoked within you was now burned into your memory.
She glides past you and approaches a clear case in the back of the room. Picking it up, she tucks it safely under one arm, and raises her gun with the other, aiming it at you one last time. The heavy rhythm of footsteps follows. The assassin speaks.
“You should have opened the door the first time, Y/N.”
A single shot echoes throughout the room.
You’re on the floor in the same instant, ears ringing and blood seeping from the man on top of you. The blonde woman is nowhere to be seen.
“Hey. Y/N, hey, listen to me-“ his words are cut off by a loud noise. You don’t realise the terrified screams are coming from you until a metal arm pulls you into a chest. His chest. Your cheek lays on the rough material of his suit, but it doesn’t feel real. Nothing feels real.
“You’re okay…you’re okay now. It’s over, Y/N,” he tries to comfort you. Soon enough, your screams turn into shaking as you stare into his blue eyes.
“Y-you…you’re bleed…blood.” You point to his injured side to compensate your incoherent speech. You look down at your pants, and almost retch at your still blood soaked attire.
‘This isn’t real.’
“Don’t worry about that. C’mon, let’s go”. He slowly rises, holding his side with one arm and you shakily join him. You watch him put a finger in his ear, and his lips begin moving. Your hearing fades in and out.
NOTES/WARNINGS: I was literally awestruck by how many notes this received in the short time the prompt was up. I’ve submitted a few imagines before, but none that ever went this far. Another special thank you to @sigridlaufeyson, @random-fandom-sideblog, @luzmariae, @violetrosesandplum, and @maneth985! I appreciate it!
Garth sighed in frustration as he heaved himself out of his chair and walked out of the conference room with tired footfalls. The meeting had gone on far longer than he hoped it would and only seemed to drag on longer with the heavy thoughts plaguing his mind. He had been too distracted to really pay attention. He was fairly certain a portion of the many subjects had been about the threat of an oncoming war or something of that nature, and, as the next in command after the captain of the guard, it was his duty to help oversee any and all plans that needed to be carried out to ensure everyone’s well being, but he had barely heard a word of it.
Normally, he would be all ears and have heard everything that was said, listening intently for any intell that could help them later on should the need arise, but his focus had been yanked elsewhere and showed no sign of returning to the world around him any time soon. Even when the king, whom he respected above all others, spoke, not a word of it got through to him despite his eyes being trained on whoever had the floor.
Their whispers crowd your mind, dulling thought, dragging past pains to the surface to torment you, tempting you to give up, to give in. You won’t do it; you know where that path leads. But sometimes the demons leave you no choice but to contemplate the dark road you’ve walked before.
Cullen always knows when it happens. Perhaps you give your struggle away in the tone of your voice, in the slope of your shoulders, in the slide of your eyes from his, in unexpected bursts of irritation. Or perhaps he just knows you better than anyone else.
On days like those, the Inquisition can look after itself. You need him, even if you won’t admit it, and he always answers that silent cry for help. He never asks for details, never presumes to pry. He trusts that you will tell him in your own time the troubles that haunt you. There is only sympathy in those whisky-bright eyes, never pity. He understands that no one can fight this battle for you, but sometimes a little support can make all the difference.
an old one that I still like, though (it’s here)! I should get around to at least posting the first part of that verse on AO3 – I wrote a continuation (that I once again only found thanks to @the-mundivagant‘s amazing archive of my tumblr fic) here.
so I feel like after that first fic – Steve has to go home, obviously, and I don’t think he sees Loki again before leaving. He does tell Thor that they talked again, though he doesn’t say what they talked about. and he leaves, and that’s that, and Steve tries not to think about Loki or wonder if he’s still alive.
and then maybe a few months down the line Thor comes to Steve and is basically like “I have an ask and it’s kind of a big ask but” and the upshot is that Loki’s not doing better, lately seems to be getting worse, and Thor’s been talking to his parents and the healers and they think maybe a change of scenery might help, and basically Thor would like to try bringing Loki to Earth for a little while.
and Steve’s first thought is that that’s insane, why would that be a good idea, wouldn’t it be better for him to stay close to home and where there are people who can watch over him because that’s not exactly something they can do here, they’re not equipped to keep someone on 24/7 suicide watch
and Thor looks away and says that their trying to do that hasn’t worked, has it, and the more they try to keep Loki safe the worse he seems to get, and Thor’s worried that they’re just boxing him into a corner and making him even more desperate to…escape. so maybe they have to try letting him go to keep him alive.
eventually Steve does agree – Thor seems so desperate and is hurting so much, and Steve does want to help, and even his brief interactions with Loki struck him. so shortly thereafter Loki shows up trailing Thor, and if he doesn’t seem thrilled by this development he doesn’t exactly seem not-thrilled either. doesn’t seem much at all, really, just sort of tired.
Steve doesn’t mean to take Loki under his wing – he’s the last person qualified in this case, he’s pretty sure – but it just kind of happens. Loki doesn’t seem to really mind, though it’s hard to tell exactly what he’s feeling.
“Thor thinks you can save me,” Loki says at some point
“I don’t know about that,” Steve says, “but I’d like to help.”
Asgard was – overwhelming. Not necessarily in a bad way, it was just – a lot to absorb, and a lot going on, and everything was so bright. Steve was finding it all hard to absorb and even harder to process, not sure he was even past the stage of I’m a diplomat on an alien planet part. (If Bucky heard about this – Steve shut that thought down, ruthlessly.)
They were on their fifth feast in four nights and he’d managed to slip out, begging a need for fresh air and managing to fend off three offers (two women, one man) to accompany him. Steve exhaled in relief, safely outdoors, letting his feet wander without paying too much attention, watching the horizon. He did not realize until he took a deep breath and smelled a fragrance heavy enough to make his head spin that he’d wandered into a garden. ‘Garden’ seemed inadequate, though, for something like this – lush and half wild, but even Steve could tell that it was carefully tended, deliberately nurtured. A flower that shaded from purple at its center out to white closed as he brushed by it with a sound like wind-chimes; he could see one of the vines moving, curling tendrils around a trellis like a snake.
Summary: In a world where vampires are commonplace but not entirely accepted, most of them are living very private lives, if not in hiding. The new town you have moved to is small, and there is only one vampire – Loki. Some accept him, most hate him. When a memoir novel written by a vampire stirs up trouble in your small town, there are few who will stand up for Loki, and even fewer who will accept his help.
Author’s Note: Wow!! I am so excited to introduce everyone to the brainchild of my 10 year obsession with vampires and my 5 year obsession with Loki. A huge thanks to my great friends on Discord for encouraging me. I wouldn’t have come this far without you. Feedback, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!
The stories told about him were never the same twice.
Local legends said he was born here hundreds of years ago, had been raised as a nobleman’s adopted son at the height of luxury and privilege, until… well, you knew who he is now. It had sullied the Odinson name and he was still trying to live it down.
You weren’t quite sure what to believe, since you had just moved to this little town a few months before, but you couldn’t help the prickle of fear that made your heart beat just a bit faster each time you drove past his house every day on the way to work at the bookstore, or the whisper of curiosity that followed in the back of your mind. It was the latter that made your eyes fix on the dark blackout curtains on the windows, but the former that urged you to drive on and mind your own business.
my body’s made of shell, 3k, man I haven’t written anything this plotless and whumpy in a while have I, infinity war au obviously, some fairly graphic description of broken neck stuff, idk about any of this but here we are, I am weak and in constant search of validation
Loki didn’t know how he had survived.
In point of fact, he wasn’t entirely certain that he had. Awareness faded in and out. It was cold, freezing cold, or maybe he was, or maybe none of this was real and this was death, or he was still dying.
At some point he tried to move, but it hurt too much and he thought he must have fainted. Turning his head – or trying – resulted in a horrible grinding sensation; he vomited and passed out again. When he woke up, something was whistling like a kettle and it took him a while to realize that it was his breathing.
Thanos had crushed his throat and broken his neck. He should be dead. But his body clung to life, refusing to let go.
I decided to finally write a sequel to an imaginethat I wrote awhile ago. There’s been a lot of support for a second part, so I thought why not? I hope you guys like it ❤
“Don’t wander far, Your Majesty,” you said to Loki. “You’ll be eaten alive if you’re not careful.” You had brought him to one of the most dangerous places in Sakaar: one of the Grandmaster’s parties. You were surrounded by the most ruthless people in the universe, all attracted to Sakaar’s lawless culture, a culture where the greediest of backstabbers could flourish. It was your paradise, and Loki was learning to make it his. He just needed some guidance.
Loki took a seat next to you on the couch where you lounged, swirling a vibrant purple wine in your glass.
“I don’t think you give me enough credit,” he told you, frowning like an indingnant child. “I’m known for being a master of lies in Asgard. I can handle Sakaar.”
“Sakaar isn’t Asgard,” you said as you took a sip of your wine. “Here you are only a stranger whose life was spared by the grace of the Grandmaster.”
“Does royalty mean nothing here?”
“Royalty doesn’t exist here,” you told him. “You only get as far as you can lie, and darling, you don’t know the first thing about lying.”
“I beg your pardon?” Loki was angry now, but he didn’t dare lay a hand on you. He knew the Grandmaster’s wrath would be doubled if he hurt you.
“I don’t mean to discard your talents, of course,” you said, your fingers grazing his where they sat in his lap. “And I’m sure there are many, but you now live in a world where there is no such thing as truth. Do you think I got where I am with just my beauty to help me? I learned a language these people knew and I learned it fast without anyone to help me. You should consider yourself lucky that I chose you.”
“You think very highly of yourself, Lady Y/N,” the Trickster told you with a smirk. “But I see past your riddles. You’re nothing but a puppet of the Grandmaster.”
“Am I?” you asked with a cocked brow. “Or is he a puppet of mine?”
Loki was silent, somehow deeply sensing how dangerous you were. He had always been good at reading people and even better at manipulating them, but he couldn’t do that with you. He couldn’t figure you out, and even though it scared him, he couldn’t deny that it also drew him to you.
“When we met the Grandmaster told me he had a bit of magic of his own,” Loki said, aware of how you had inched closer to him so that your thighs were touching. “What is your magic?”
“I have many abilities to be proud of, but the ability to lie is magic in itself,” you told him. “There’s no need for spells or potions when the right combination of words can create an alternate reality in someone else’s mind that only you are aware of. Don’t you agree?”
Loki nodded, noticing you had never broken eye contact with him, hypnotizing him like how a snake does its prey.
“I promised you anything you wanted in all of Sakaar,” you murmured. “I think it’s time I kept that promise. What do you want, Your Majesty?”
Before Loki could stop himself, he had already given you his answer. “You.”
“Is that all, my king?”
“A kingdom.”
“This could be your kingdom if you let me show you how to take it,” you said.
“Show me.”
You smiled and gave him a gentle kiss. When you pulled away you whispered to him, “You’re going to love it here.” And he knew you were right. This was where he belonged, in the center of a world where people like him could thrive. With an equal like you at his side, he could finally become the king of a world that wanted him.
Maker's Breath 