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rorilisa · 2 years

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His Color

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader (no y/n used)

Summary: After a conversation with a certain god of mischief leads to a bold claim that he owns the color green, the reader puts it to the test with her very own green dress. And when he finally sees her in said dress… months of flirtatious comments and sexual tension may finally reach a breaking point. (This was inspired loosely by the song “Green Green Dress” from tick, tick boom, specifically the bonus track version because it is *chefs kiss*)

Warnings and such: swearing, potential future smut, sexual tension, sexual themes, potentially some slight angst, this is one of those “everyone’s alive and living together” AU’s, other characters have cameos, i tried to keep the readers description vague so she’d fit everyone, let me know if i missed anything!

Word Count: 3k

Mornings at the Avengers compound tended to be slow and quiet, the normally hyperactive heroes catching up on as much greatly deserved sleep as they possibly could. On a normal morning, only a handful of the team could even be found out of bed before 7 o’clock, but for some reason a certain hero in training sits with her coffee at the bar top of an empty kitchen. She sips silently, sitting with only the rising sun as her light as she attempts to wake her fuzzy mind. She doesn’t expect anyone to stumble into the kitchen at this hour, which is why when a hand lands gently on her shoulder, a startled yelp leaves her lips. She whips around quickly, coffee forgotten on the counter as she readies herself to fight this unknown enemy in the early morning light. Instead of a dangerous enemy, she meets the green eyes of the equally dangerous god of mischief.

“Shit Loki, you scared me half to death.” She sighs out tiredly, turning back to her coffee as the raven haired male makes his way around the bar to get his own coffee, a proud smirk on his lips.

“Yes, I see that.” He chuckles and turns to face her, leaning back against the kitchen counter next to the coffee maker as he waits for his cup to brew. “And what exactly are you doing up at this hour?”

“I could ask you the same question.” She quips back, a tired smirk making its way onto her face as well. The way they fall into easy banter so quickly used to startle her, but after so many months of it, it's almost become a routine between the two of them. Loki hums and picks up his mug without turning his attention away from her.

“You could, but I asked you first.” She rolls her eyes and huffs in fake annoyance at his childish response.

“Couldn’t sleep anymore. I have a lot on my mind.” She responds simply before bringing the mug back to her lips. Loki nods in understanding, and she has to fight a loving smile when he doesn’t push her to explain. That’s one of the many things she’s grown to like (love?) about Loki; he doesn’t pry about personal matters. He knows that she would share if she wanted to.

“Are you looking forward to Stark’s little gathering tomorrow?” He redirects the conversation easily as he walks back around the bar and takes the stool beside her. She fights the urge to groan and instead settles for another sigh.

“I forgot about that… I don’t have anything to wear.” She complains and lowers her head to rest it on the cool bar top. Loki chuckles and shakes his head in response to her dramatics.

“Nothing? I find that hard to believe.”

She huffs and raises her head. “This isn’t just any gathering, Loki. This is Stark's annual charity banquet. Practically all of New York is going to be there. So yes, I have nothing to wear.” She nearly cries when she realizes she’ll have to go shopping, her early morning brain incapable of imagining the stressful scenario that is dress shopping in busy New York City. The young hero goes silent as she thinks about what kind of styles or colors she might want, but she quickly loses her train of thought when she sees Loki watching her. There’s an unreadable but strong emotion in his emerald eyes, and it almost sends a shiver down her spine.

“What?” She asks self consciously, and the god only shakes his head with a small smile.

“Nothing. What are you thinking about?” His quick redirection causes her to narrow her eyes, but she goes along with the new flow of conversation.

“What I’m going to buy for this stupid thing.” Her normal style wouldn’t work for such a high end gathering, and seeing as this would be her first year attending, she didn’t even know where to begin finding an outfit. “I’d normally wear something safe like a black dress, or maybe something red if I was feeling bold, but that feels so… basic. Like easy options. And this thing is basically Stark’s version of the Met Gala so I can’t go with the basics.”

Loki nods along as the girl beside him rants, before ultimately shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Once you find your perfect color-” he gestures down at his emerald green sweater, “-you’ll find it’s much easier picking outfits.” He chuckles softly, and she narrows her eyes at him.

“Well maybe I’ll wear green.” She states, crossing her arms over her chest in a playful defiance. “You don’t own the color, you know?”

Loki scoffs and places a hand over his own chest, almost as if in indignation at her statement. “Darling, when you look as good in it as I do, you do in fact own it.” His signature smirk takes up residence on his face again, and she tries not to pay too much attention to the way her cheeks heat up at the pet name.

“Oh please. You’ll see.” She smiles confidently and raises her chin. “We’ll find out who green really belongs to tomorrow night.” His eyes narrow at her this time as he weighs the unspoken challenge in his mind.

“Yes, I suppose we will.” He stands from his stool and lowers his head in a quick bow. “Until then.” He lifts his head and meets her eyes with a mischievous grin before turning smoothly and gliding away. She has to fan her face to calm the rising heat on her cheeks and neck, but she smiles down at her coffee with renewed vigor. With a point to prove and a god to awe, she thought that perhaps this shopping trip wouldn’t be as dreadful as she feared.

**********************

The night of Stark’s charity banquet approached rather quickly, and as Loki stood in front of his mirror making sure all the pieces of his suit were in place, he couldn’t help but think about the early morning chat he’d had with the young trainee. He felt excitement rush through him at the thought of her, and he quickly replaced the dopey smile on his face with a confident smirk.

“None of that.” He told himself, as if his feelings were ever something that tended to listen to him. After fixing up the final touches of his suit and incredibly flattering corset vest, he brushes back his hair with a smug smirk before making his way out of his room and to the elevator that’s already filled with finely dressed Avengers. His eyes quickly scan the group of people for the girl that has taken over his thoughts, but instead he only finds various residents of the compound, some of which shift further away when he enters the small space. Loki lets out an exasperated sigh and leans against the far wall of the elevator, where he also sees a familiar super-soldier assassin. “Good evening Sergeant Barnes.”

The man looks up at Loki at the call of his name and greets him with a tired smile. “Good evening,” Bucky responds in his deep rumbly voice, fidgeting absentmindedly with the end of his left sleeve and the leather glove covering his metal hand. “Surprised to see you’re going to this thing.”

Loki chuckles and nods. “I wasn’t sure I was going to,” is his simple reply.

“Well, what changed?”

The god tilts his head as he thinks of an answer, the only one he seemingly can conjure up consisting of someone’s bright flirtatious smile, beautiful eyes, and the promise of seeing her in his color.

“Thought it might be good for my image. To be seen around, socializing, being a generally good samaritan.” Although his answer was somewhat truthful, it was not the real reason he was going, nor was it something he really cared about all that much. “What about you? I did not imagine I’d be seeing you at any social gathering this large either.”

The ex-assassin nods and clears his throat, his blue eyes filled with sincerity when they meet Loki’s green ones. “Same reason as you, I guess…”

Loki nods in understanding, feeling sympathy for the broken man standing beside him. “Well, I wish you a successful evening.” He responds as the elevator doors slide open and he begins to make his way out into the beautifully decorated ballroom. He nearly rolls his eyes, because of course Stark built a ballroom in this compound.

“Yeah, you too.” Bucky claps the god on the shoulder before offering him a tight smile and making his way over to the large bar in the corner of the massive room.

Loki begins scanning the expansive space, telling himself he’s only taking in the white and gold decorations and the balcony that’s already beginning to fill with people, but he knows that he’s really looking for her. He begins to walk along the edge of the dance floor where more tables are situated for guests, taking in the band that’s setting up on the stage at the end of the empty floor and the steadily growing noise of the guests chattering away. A buzzing headache begins to form in his temples, and Loki suppresses a groan. He wishes she’d just show up already to ease the pain like she always does, and a startled huff leaves his lips.

“I need a drink.” He mumbles to himself before making his way to the bar and leaning against the counter. “Red wine.” Midgardian alcohol did not affect him in the slightest, but he had found he quite liked the taste of it after a late night draining a bottle with her on the roof of the compound. Ever since then, he had imagined what her lips would have tasted like with the wine lingering on them.

“Here you are sir.” The bartender hands him the glass, startling him out of his rapidly spiraling train of thought. Loki shakes his head as if to clear the thought away and takes a large sip of his drink, his eyes beginning to once again search for her.

Several glasses and many awkward attempts at conversation later, and Loki feels himself becoming increasingly more frustrated at her lack of attendance. He thinks that maybe she could not find a suitable outfit for the challenge and decided to just bail, but that thought causes a sting in his heart. No, he thinks. She wouldn’t abandon me like that.

The band begins to play a slow, sultry waltz and Loki turns to the bartender to order his sixth glass of wine. It is at this moment, with his back turned to the entrance that he hears a call of her name accompanied with a loud whistle from Sam Wilson.

“My lady! You look absolutely stunning!” Thor’s loud voice echoes through the ballroom, and every guest snaps their head in the direction of the noise. Unlike the hoards of people in the room, Loki takes his time turning his head to her, almost as if he’s preparing himself for the sight that awaits him. And when his eyes finally lock on her figure, he knows that no amount of time could have prepared him.

She walks into the ballroom gracefully, the silky emerald dress clinging to her body in the most flattering way, her curves being perfectly hugged by the soft fabric. A long slit in the skirt starting at the floor and ending at her upper thigh leaves little to the imagination and perfectly accentuates her leg. The emerald color of the dress matches his own signature green to perfection, and he has to focus on keeping the heat in his cheeks and the spark of pride that goes straight from his heart down to his groin at bay.

“Oh Norns…” Loki breathes out quietly. Her eyes search the crowd for him, and once she finds him a large, proud smirk falls upon her colored lips, lips that are the same color as the wine he so desperately wants to taste on them. She begins gliding towards him like some kind of seductive goddess, and despite his best efforts, he can’t seem to wipe the look of awe off of his face.

“Hello Loki.” Even her voice seems to draw him in, and she continues approaching until they’re standing toe to toe, only a breath apart. Her eyes scan him up and down, taking in the perfectly tailored black suit (although he’s beginning to worry that his trousers may be too tight) along with the cinched green corset vest.

“You look good.” She praises softly, another dangerous smirk accompanying her lips as she raises up on her tiptoes and whispers right by his ear, “I look better.”

And he couldn’t agree more, but for some reason, his normal witty remarks seem to be stuck in the back of his throat. He only watches her with unrestrained admiration like he’s looking at a beautiful work of art, before holding his hand palm up.

“Dance with me,” he manages to say in a steady voice, though it takes all of his willpower to do so. A bright, genuine smile lights up her face, one that nearly knocks him off his feet as she slides her hand into his.

“It would be my honor.” She giggles before turning and dragging him onto the dance floor, the sensual waltz still playing. She turns to face him again and raises a hand to rest it on his shoulder as he slowly slides his along her waist to rest it on her lower back. He takes her right hand in his left and begins gliding across the floor with her to the music. She lets out a nervous chuckle, and although she’s not a bad dancer, it’s clear she’s having a hard time keeping up with his well practiced steps.

“Sorry-” she starts to apologize, but she’s cut off by her own yelp of surprise when he wraps his arm tighter around her waist and lifts her up until her feet are standing on his toes. The two of them waltz effortlessly now, dancing across the floor so smoothly, it’s as if they are floating just above the ground.

“Better?” He asks softly, a joyful glint in his eyes. She nods in response, and looks up at him with the same bright smile. With their bodies pressed together, hand in hand, chest to chest, it’s almost as if their heartbeats become one, the rhythms intertwining with the sound of the band and the blossoming of a feeling so intense it makes Loki forget they are surrounded by people watching their every move.

“So… I win right?” The question pulls Loki out of his thoughts and he lets out a deep, genuine laugh, a sound so rare for him but one so commonly associated with her now.

“As much as I hate to admit it, I believe you did.” She smiles triumphantly and lets out a laugh of her own.

“I better have. This dress was ridiculously expensive.” He chuckles at her and shakes his head, his eyes once again scanning her figure and her features with a myriad of emotions in the deep green depths.

“My darling, it is not the dress that has won you this victory.” His eyes trail up to hers, pausing for a few moments too long on her wine red lips. She holds his gaze, her lips parting and her cheeks flushing at his comment. They fall into a silence as they stare at each other, the band beginning to play a different song but neither of them seem to notice. Loki stops waltzing, instead only swaying with her in his arms as his face leans closer to hers.

“You- I don’t-” She stammers over her words and laughs weakly at herself as they both move closer, the tips of their noses brushing against each other. Her eyelids are hooded as she breathes out, “I want to kiss you.”

That’s all it takes for Loki to press his lips firmly to hers, months of pining and desperate attempts at silent confessions pouring into the kiss. His arm tightens around her waist and her hand moves from his shoulder to his hair, tugging gently at the raven strands and pulling a growl from his throat. They kiss until she has to pull back for air, a happy giggle leaving her no longer perfectly painted lips.

“Took you long enough.” Loki finally opens his eyes at the statement and lets out a breathy laugh.

“Took me long enough? I feel as though I have been very apparent in my desires.” He quirks a brow at her and smirks, sure that there are marks of her lipstick on his lips and the thought makes his head spin.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, using her thumb to wipe some of her lipstick from his bottom lip. “Sure you were.” He silently takes in her flushed cheeks and soft smile, studying her with a gentle love, but also with something much deeper, something more hungry.

“So, green’s mine now, right?” She tilts her head and smiles innocently at him. He chuckles darkly, his grip on her waist tightening as he presses her even tighter to his lithe figure.

“Oh hardly. Perhaps this was only an excuse to see you in my color.” He hums out in a low voice, and with the hand he has on her back he can feel the shiver that runs down her spine. “But… perhaps I could be persuaded to allow it to be our color, yes?”

“Persuaded how?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper, but their close proximity allows Loki to hear her perfectly. He responds at first with another dark chuckle, moving so his lips are right by her ear in a way that mirrors what she did earlier as he responds in a deep whisper.

“I’ll show you.”

a/n: this is the first fanfic i’ve ever posted aahhh! i hope you liked it! feedback would be GREATLY appreciated. this is unedited and probably has a few errors haha sorry about that. i’m considering writing a second (smutty) part to this so let me know if i should~ oh and, here’s a link to the corset vest i imagined loki in, but feel free to imagine it any way you’d like. https://innovacorsetry.com/products/corset-vest

#loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki x reader #first fic #loki smut #avengers #everyones alive bc i said so #bucky barnes #thor odinson #sam wilson #tony stark #new fanfic #pining #are we about to kiss #green green dress #loki is a simp

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inkskinned · 9 months

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because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?