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morally-grey-variant · 5 days

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love is a dagger [loki x oc][part two]

loki x oc

part two

[master post]

[read part one first]

Pairing: Loki x Original Character (she/they)

Setting: Canon goes out the window as Loki joins the Avengers Compound. He's not exactly "one of the gang" but, in a tentative truce with Thor, is allowed to live and train with the Avengers and other SHIELD agents living and working on the Compound.

Part Two Summary: Ten stitches later, Grey needs rest. Loki stays to care for his favorite agent, knowing he’ll have to answer to Tony -- and the other Avengers -- for the accident later. After witnessing Tony’s rage, they both know this is just the tip of the iceberg. Caring for an injured Grey tests the tenuous friendship, and as Loki bares a shred of his soul, Grey is forced to confront the truth of their feelings.

Maybe later can wait a little longer. (wc 3 k)

Warnings: Later episodes become more explicit with dark themes -- Minors DNI. Blood, hospital/surgery/sedatives/stitches, general angst, mild swearing, non-explicit nudity, inferred non-descriptive references to hypothetical SA. (if I've missed something please let me know!)

I drift in and out of fitful bursts of sleep. Shouts from Tony, his face contorted in rage; Loki's strong, capable hands; fear and angst and blood, so much dripping blood everywhere.

The nurse shakes me awake. I immediately search for Loki; he’s hovering behind her. I can’t read his heavy expression. He stayed.

“Time to go,” she declares, although I couldn’t have been out for more than a few minutes. She helps me upright and shows me how to change the bandage that now wraps around my torso, protecting the raw edges of the fresh wound. Loki hovers, observing, though I can’t read his heavy expression.

I shrug out of the scratchy paper hospital gown, but Loki politely averts his gaze. My cheeks still flush hot red. I'm still wearing my athletic leggings, and the nurse offers me a plain black sweatshirt branded with a stylized A that I gratefully tug over my sports bra. She leaves me with a paper box of bandages.

Loki smirks and offers me a hand. “Can you walk now, or do you need me to carry you again, Agent?”

I flush. “I can walk.”

Loki escorts me out of the medical wing. His hand lingers at the small of my back, pressing the sweatshirt against my skin. “It's a long walk back to the SHIELD dormitories,” he muses. “How far can our brave Agent go before succumbing to the lingering morphine?”

“To say nothing of the mortal wound in my chest,” I counter, instantly regretting it. His hand stiffens, fingers curling into my back. Fuck.

“I fear Tony may, quite literally, have my head for this.” His biting sarcasm just isn't there. He looks straight forward, fist pressed against the small of my back as he guides me down the hallway.

“Let me deal with Tony.” I don't have the same sway as the others, but I might be the only person who will stand up for Loki.

The thought tugs at a ragged edge of my heart. My head swims again; I stumble, catching myself against the wall with my right arm.

“Careful,” Loki murmurs, both arms looping around me. My heart pounds, those ragged edges snagging against some insistent pull.

“Let me help you.”

I lay a hand against his shoulder, gently nudging him back. “No,” I grumble. My breath catches as I remember the last time I refused his help.

Damn it all, Grey.

Loki wouldn't hurt me. That much I know for certain. Outside of our carefully coordinated sparring matches – today notwithstanding – he'd never so much as raised his voice towards me.

But Loki relents. He released his grip, but kept his hands hovering just within reach. I slump against the wall, sighing.

“I'm sorry, Loki.”

“What on Midgard do you possibly have to apologize for?”

I shake my head, laughing softly. The movement tugs my stitches, and I curl forward, groaning in pain. Loki's hand finds my shoulder.

“I'm still horrible at close-quarters combat,” I groan, clutching a hand to my ribs. “I'm sorry. I should be better by now–”

“Oh, do shut up,” Loki laughs wearily. He hooks a finger beneath my chin, gingerly lifting my head.

My heart does that tightening, flip-flopping thing again. Breath whooshes out of my lungs. Loki smiles knowingly; my face probably drops into some slack-jawed expression.

He still hasn't kissed me.

We’ve trained together nearly every day. For six months, Loki has schooled me in hand-to-hand combat, or close-quarters sparring with knives and daggers wielded with a trickster's sly maneuvers.

Six months of lingering touches that evolved from instructive placements - “no, you should land here,” a hand against a shoulder; “hold your stance like this,” a shifted leg, gripping a tensed thigh muscle far too tenderly – to more deliberate touches. Fingers brushing down arms. Stray hairs tucked behind an ear. Fingers splayed across worn leather armor.

Vague exchanges that didn't exactly amount to confessions. But for Loki, they were everything.

“I would greatly prefer you come back to me in one piece,” before I left on a field mission. “Now, show me your right hook again.”

“I trust you, Loki.” A dozen times before a dozen different maneuvers. “You don't underestimate me the way the others do.”

“You're not a woman to be underestimated.”

Oh.

“Did you forget I'm the one who–” he begins, his voice dropping off before he could say it. Green eyes glance away from mine, though he never drops my chin.

“I still trust you, Loki.” My voice cracks in my throat.

His tongue darts out between his lips, parting them infinitesimally. A decision weighs on his dark brow. Yes. Please, Loki.

His finger slips off my chin. “You need rest. Come on.”

All the breath rushes out of me. He runs both hands through his dark curls, pushing them back from his face. Resetting himself.

Our journey back to the SHIELD dormitories took an age. I need two breaks, clutching my chest and waving off Loki's attempts to pick me up again. I know he would gladly lift me into his arms again and carry me straight to my room. If anyone here saw that happening, Fury would personally fire me. Canoodling with the higher-ups. Consorting with Avengers – or, the Avenger-adjacent.

We pause outside my room. One door in a long hallway of identical rooms. For the most part, that’s all I am to SHIELD – one agent in a long stretch of near-identical stories. An over-eager fighter with a knack for gathering intelligence, desperate to prove themselves to the right authority figure. A body to send to the front lines before the real stars of the show assembled, or even stepped foot outside the compound.

“Mission accomplished.” Loki announces quietly. He looks me up and down as if scanning for more signs of … what? Fatigue? Injury?

Loneliness?

I press my hand to the biometric scanner beside the door. It blips and glows with life, unlocking my door with a soft click. “Come in?”

“Is that a question, or a command?”

I grin, pushing the paper box of bandages into his arms. “Command.”

My room looks like every other dormitory on this floor: cramped and efficient, but blessedly private. A floor-to-ceiling window forms the exterior wall of the narrow room, looking down over the wooded area behind the compound. Beside the window, a built-in desk with shelves above takes up the other half of the exterior wall. The wall opposite holds a twin bed and a wardrobe, with the left wall consisting of more shelving. The right wall held a small door which leads to my private, if tiny, bathroom.

Loki’s gaze scrolls around the room, lingering on the personal effects strewn across the space. “The servants of Asgard have better quarters than these,” he mused, dropping the bandages on my desk.

“This is no royal palace,” I counter, leaning against the doorframe as it slides shut behind me. I watch Loki carefully as he makes one slow turn, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger.

“Indeed,” he answers, “though Stark no doubt sees himself king.”

I flinch, remembering our earlier encounter. “I don't remember much,” I lie, shifting my feet.

“You threatened to kill me,” Loki reminds me with a sly grin.

“Then you’ll be sure to stay on my good side.”

Loki watches me for a long time. He releases his grip on the dagger at his waist, suddenly seeming to realize where his hand had unconsciously come to rest. With a roll of his shoulders and a shimmer of green light, he shifts into something more comfortable: black tapered joggers and a black hoodie.

There it is again. That stupid heart-squeezing, stomach-flipping feeling. Loki never dresses down like this. The man – god – never wears jeans, let alone sweatpants. I've rarely seen him out of his Asgardian finery, or a formal Midgardian suit.

“Is this all right?” His voice drops to a soft, low question. He offers a shrug at his own appearance.

“Whatever you're comfortable in,” I answer, tugging at the hem of the hospital sweatshirt. “Do you mind if I shower? I'm disgusting.”

He wrinkles his nose, smirking. “Please do.”

I swat his arm lightly as I step past him, grabbing a change of clothes from my wardrobe. “Make yourself comfortable, and don't get blood on anything.”

“Already taken care of.” He drops into my desk chair, extending a cupped palm that flickers with the remnants of his magic. Of course.

“Do you ever shower, or do you just magic it all away?” I laugh.

He smirks, lifting an eyebrow. “I do.” He gestures to the bathroom with his head. “Is that thing big enough for a bath?”

“Just a shower,” I shrug, sliding open the door and praying I hadn’t forgotten any stray underwear on the floor. “Why, do you need one?”

“Is that an invitation?”

I nearly throw up on the spot. He crosses his arms, leaning back in the chair and smirking like the devil himself. I wouldn't say no.

“I prefer to shower alone, thank you,” I croak, wishing I'd come up with something cleverer to say as he lit up with a genuinely bemused laugh. “I'm exhausted and disgusting.”

“Oh, I'm aware,” he laughs as I slide the door shut behind me.

Oh, my god. The filthy, blood-streaked reflection of a wild woman glares back at me in the bathroom mirror. My sweat-streaked forehead is smudged with my own blood – fingerprint-shaped blotches the size of Loki's fingers. My chest contracts at the memory of his hand cradling my head while the doctor sewed me up.

Lifting the sweatshirt over my head, I flinch. The upward motion tugs at my stitches. Oh, this is going to be another nightmare. There's a good amount of grunting and hunching over and wiggling my torso before I'm free from the garment.

The bright red, puckered tear in my flesh screams back at me angrily. Two inches below the elastic band of my sports bra, in the dead center of my right rib cage, the two-inch long stab wound is absolutely going to scar. Ten stitches meticulously pin the flesh back together. I wince as I graze my finger along the ridge, but the memory hurts more: me, clumsily jumping backwards; Loki lunging forward, confidently anticipating my evasion. His blade skimming over my ribs, scratching the bone.

Loki's face as he realized too late what he'd done.

I trusted Loki; he stabbed me. Thor wouldn't be surprised.

That's why it rattled Loki, I realize. Everyone expects him to turn villainous again. No one expects him to be good.

But he'd been good with me for six months. Gentle. Often acerbic and sometimes short, but never cruel. He'd never hurt me intentionally, only small slip-ups here and there until I learned to properly block or anticipate attacks.

I still trust him. That won’t change.

I need to trust him now. I cringe.

“Loki?” I call, parting the sliding door a few inches.

“Is that my invitation?” he calls playfully.

“Ten seconds of seriousness, Loki.”

“As the grave, darling.”

My heart flips. Gooseflesh spreads down my arms. Darling.

“I need help.” My back faces the bedroom, pointedly ignoring the word. I can’t bring myself to look at him. “You can say no. I can call Nat.”

“You’ve yet to give me a favor to refuse.”

I draw in a deep breath. “I can't lift my arms over my head. I had trouble taking my sweatshirt off.” I begin, hoping he'll catch my meaning. Please don't make me say it out loud.

“Are you in pain?” He sounds closer now, but I still don't turn around. There's genuine concern, all sarcasm wiped away.

“Only a little,” I lie. I can feel my pulse in the wound. “I… I need help.” I back up towards the door, nudging it open a few more inches with my hand.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” I echo, my arms wrapped around my chest. “I'll just call Nat–” I begin, grabbing the edge of the door, but suddenly Loki's inches away.

“Do you want to have to explain to her what happened today?” The edge of playfulness is back, because he knows I don't. Natasha and I are friends, but she doesn't approve of my training with the enemy. I'm not ready for this conversation yet, and it's steadily getting harder to explain.

I sigh, pushing the door open another inch until my entire back is visible. “Just help me,” I plead.

“Do you trust me?”

There's a weight to his voice I don't expect. I turn slightly, and he's still right there behind me. Solemnity paints his sharp features. His bright green eyes waver softly as they reflect the bathroom's bright fluorescents.

“Of course I trust you.” I answer with what I hope is equal solemnity. “As long as you can behave like a gentleman,” I add, forcing myself to smirk. Levity.

“More than a gentleman,” he teases back, gesturing for me to turn back around. “A prince.”

“I don't know how that's supposed to help,” I laugh. Gingerly, I raise my arms away from my torso. “Princes aren't exactly famous for their propriety.”

“Second sons especially,” Loki adds. “I'm going to touch your back. Is that okay?”

“Y-yes.” Something in my chest swells. He's never exactly asked for permission to touch me before. But he's never undressed me, alone in my bedroom, either.

His fingers graze my back. “How…” he begins, his fingers sliding under the elastic band. “I don't understand. There's no clasp?”

I shake my head. How many bras has he undone? The thought deflates the warm balloon in my chest; I shove the thought aside. “No, it's … it's all elastic.” Explaining my stab wound to Natasha would be easier than explaining a sports bra to a man. A non-human man.

“That's why I can't get it off myself,” I continue. “It's tight, and hard to pull it over my head on a good day. Much less with ten stitches in my abdomen.”

His fingers twitch. “Eleven.”

“What?”

“I counted eleven,” Loki explains quietly, gingerly tugging at the elastic again.

“Can't you use magic?” I ask, suddenly desperate to not be having this conversation. “I probably should've asked that from the beginning.” I didn't ask because I don't want you to use magic. The realization stirs the pit of my stomach.

His hands still, pinched between the band and my skin. “Not an option.” His words are clipped. My body tenses up.

“What?” I croak, head curling down towards my chest. Fuck. I’ve messed up, somehow. This shouldn’t be happening. This isn’t how I wanted this to happen.

Something shifts in my brain. I can’t believe I’m actually letting myself admit it; actually accepting the admission. Letting myself acknowledge that I ever wanted it to happen. Wanted Loki to undress me, wanted his fingers to stretch across my torso and slide over my skin–

“Boundaries,” he finally says. His fingers shift, examining the straps along the top of the garment. They stretch in a web from the back to my shoulders. I force myself to hold in the full-body shudder his touch threatens to elicit.

“I’m not following,” I admit, biting my lip. “If you’re already… taking my bra off, how is magic … worse?”

Loki sighs. His fingers pause again. I can’t bear to turn around and look at him. What the fuck is going on?

“I’m trying to be … better.”

His words are unbearably soft, but I can hear how his throat pinches against them. His voice drags against those ragged edges of my heart again. “If all it takes is a snap of my fingers to undress you completely… What kind of monster needs such magic?”

My breath hitches in my chest. I freeze, clenching every muscle. What… what does that mean? I swallow thickly, breath shaking. Loki’s killed people. Loki’s hurt people. Loki’s a villain. Loki’s the bad guy.

No. I don’t think he’s capable of … whatever he’s implying.

“You aren’t a monster, Loki.” My voice shakes.

“You don’t sound so sure.” His voice is frighteningly flat. His hand pulls away from me.

“Is there something you’re trying to tell me?” I don’t feel like I’m inside my own body. My blood is ice and air simultaneously, my vision blurring to a single point on the wall in front of me.

“My life is plagued by acts of which I feel no sense of pride.” Dark tones undercut any warmth in his deep, velvet voice. “But if it helps… no, I would never… not that. I didn’t mean to … imply such, to frighten you. I’m sorry.”

A breath whooshes from my chest again. “Okay. I trust you.”

“You won’t meet another living soul who shares the same sentiment.” He truly, honestly, and completely believes that. “I can’t atone for what I’ve done, even if it wasn’t in my right mind. But I want to be … better. Is this all right?” His tone shifts on the last sentence, the pads of his fingers tapping against my shoulder. I nod silently.

“Square your shoulders.” His voice shifts, and I obey.

“You place so much trust in me. It makes me wonder,” he continues, his thumb sliding beneath the tight fabric. “Am I worthy?”

He tugs at the elastic band, pushing it up to my shoulders without waiting for an answer to his rhetorical question. “Arms forward. Head down.” He shuffles it up and over my shoulders with surprising ease and minimal strain on my stitches, then gingerly nudges my ponytail out of the way as he lifts it over my head. I tuck my arms back through, crossing them over my breasts. “It’s off.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, gaze locked on the white tile floor. “A perfect gentleman.”

Perhaps in some attempt to protect my modesty, Loki slides the door shut. Turning back, one arm wrapped around my chest, I push it back slightly, peering through the small gap. His dark eyes gaze back. Something has changed between us.

His face sags under the weight of so much self-doubt. My chest cracks open. I press my lips together in a small, sad smile.

“You’re worthy enough to me.”

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fic #loki fic series #love is a dagger #love is a dagger / fic

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lady-rose-moon · 2 years

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Will you be my dagger?

Summary: after Thor's coronation, Loki decides to make the celebrations all about you and him

A/N: this is in an AU where Odin died way before Ragnarok and it will also be Mythology Loki because I love him so Loki's children will be mentioned too! Takes place sometime after Avengers!

Loki was thriving while drinking mead with Fandral before a maid came over to him and tapped his shoulder, “Prince Loki? King Thor demands that you attend the feasts alongside everyone else. He is very adamant that he gives a toast in your honour!”

Loki sighed and walked through the door that Thor was dragged through and he smiles softly when he sees you waiting for him already, “I see that you managed to stay away until I got here?”

You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, gazing up at your handsome man’s face, “don’t worry, I doubt King Thor could ever make me celebrate with him. You are safe, my King.”

“Your king, huh?” Loki smirked, his hands dropping down to hold your hips gently, “you do know that if the real King heard you call me that, he would be incredibly angry?”

You looked behind Loki in mock thought before smirking, looking deep into the emerald of his eyes, “yes but knowing Thor, he’d trip over that ridiculously long cape they put him in while trying to get to me.”

Loki laughed and pressed his lips to your forehead with a small smile on his face, “shall we go in, dear?”

You giggled and intertwined your arms before walking into the feasting halls. The moment the doors opened and allowed them through, the mass of people turned to them and cheered to the Norns for the health of their new crown Prince. Thor watched from the royal table as Loki stepped into the room with his Princess.

When all had quietened down, Thor stood from the chair and looked out at all that gathered in the hall, raising his mead to the sky, “My friends, we are here this day not only to celebrate me but to also celebrate my brother. Without him, I would still be the foolish Prince you knew two years ago. Norns, I never realised how two years could change a person. No better example than my little brother. To Prince Loki and his continued health!”

Loki smiled slightly and walked over to Thor, taking his mead and raising it high just as Thor had done, “thank you to all that came today! Through my time as your King, it opened my eyes to more problems than I thought there would be. It wasn’t a problem, but I finally understood what it took to be King so I’m glad I am no longer in that place and I am glad that my replacement was Thor. However, there is also something I must announce today,” Loki looked to the side where you were smiling at him and joined him quickly, “my darling is with child!”

The crowd erupted in cheers and from somewhere, fireworks lit up the large ceilings of the hall. This was the opposite reaction from when everyone discovered his and Angrboða’s children or even Sleipnir from himself. They rejoiced that their Prince would be having another baby that would bless the next generation of seiðr users. The public of Asgard held no doubt in their hearts that Prince Loki would teach this new child the gift of seiðr.

The feast lasted for days but Loki did not attend more than three days’ worth of it. On the third day of the celebration of Thor’s coronation, Loki was sick of the taste of mead and the taste of cake, pies, grapes and nuts.

On the third day, Loki awoke in the big bed with your head on his chest and he smiled lovingly down at you, brushing his fingers down your spine affectionately as he listened to your breathing. Carefully, Loki rolled you onto your back and he slid down the bed until his head was at the same height as your stomach and he gently caressed the small bump that was forming there as tears formed in his eyes. He had always wanted you to fall pregnant.

Loki loved all of his small family. His eldest, Fenrir would always hold his heart. Jörmungandr, his second-born, would always remain that precious egg that Angrboða gave birth to over seven hundred years ago. Hel, his third child, he would always love her, and he would miss her so much but even with Odin dead, his magic was still strong around her confinement on Niflheim. His gorgeous Sleipnir, his world and his only son born from him, Loki would always appreciate having Sleipnir around. After the announcement of your pregnancy, they had been talking Sleipnir out of his jealousy now that he would no longer be the youngest child of Loki anymore.

The soft whimper of his beloved broke him out of his thoughts, and he smiled up at you when your eyes met his, “good morning darling, you look like you slept well. Our baby certainly did. They’re really coming, huh?”

You smiled and nodded your head tiredly, “yeah our baby really is coming soon,” you tenderly held your soulmate close as he cradled your stomach with a loving smile.

“It hardly feels real to me, my darling, I can hardly believe that you are even here with me. A Princess with so many other choices, chose the problem Prince of Asgard?” Loki mumbled, his lips gently brushing against your stomach again. He adored the feeling of the small bump, and he knew that he was smart enough to have figured out your pregnancy long before. He wondered why he had only recently found out. He had held you every night for these three months! Oh, you little minx, you had used a spell to make sure that he didn’t find out before you told him.

You giggled and ran your fingers through his hair, admiring the curls at the ends that Loki used to furiously try to keep straight to show Prince-ly standards but now that he had suffered so much trauma, he didn’t feel as compelled to take care of his image as Prince of Asgard. Thor would be on the throne until the end of his life, he would never even dream of abdication.

The world came back to him when you hummed and looked up to the ceiling, “I chose you because you’re perfect Loki. When I first met you? You were just a boy, just coming out of a marriage and fearful of your son being taken away. You, Loki, were so brave when Sleipnir was kidnapped. I thank you for allowing me to grieve with you, you let me build you back up... you deserve to have our baby. Our little one chose us too.”

Loki smiled and rubbed his hands over your stomach with a purr as he stared down at the stomach that was holding his growing baby, “you feel perfect underneath my hands, my darling. Oh, darling, I cannot wait to hold our little baby in my arms.”

You smirked and stroked your hand over his cheek before pulling him down into a rough kiss and he groaned as he moved closer to you to try and advance things.

Just then, the baby monitor sounded and over it, Loki heard the sound of Sleipnir’s calling of ‘mummy? Mummy!’ and he reluctantly pulled away from you, blew you a kiss and appeared in Sleipnir’s room. His son was laid in bed, his eyes wide in horror as his hands trembled. Loki saw this and frowned, walking over to Sleipnir and pulling him close, “what is the matter, my sweetheart?”

Sleipnir sniffled and curled in Loki’s arms, clutching onto Loki’s lazy tunic and his eyes looked up towards his mummy, “I dreamt of him, mummy... I dreamt of grandpa... how I was used as nuffin more den a horse... I missed you, mummy!”

Loki shushed his son and rocked him gently, kissing the ebony hair that he had gotten from both him and Svaðilfari. Loki knew that his boy would have trauma from his time as Odin’s steed and he was deeply sorry that his boy had to go through such a terrible ordeal. Comfortingly, Loki started singing a lullaby that Frigga had once sang to him during a rough storm when he was merely a hundred years old. He felt his son calm in his arms but he did not want to let his little boy go just yet so he stood and walked into the kitchen, “how about some baking? Yeah? You’d always say yes to baking!”

You walked into the kitchen two hours later to see Loki and Sleipnir covered in flour and clumsily pouring ingredients into a bowl, laughing happily as they did. You smiled and leant against the doorframe to watch the two boys laughing and looking at each other with combined amounts of mischief in their eyes.

Loki placed the cake tin into the oven and when he turned to the refrigerator to grab something, he saw you at the door and froze. He had thought that you might sleep a bit longer to help with the exhaustion of pregnancy but here you were, standing in the doorframe and smirking at him like he was a misbehaving child. Smiling, he turned to Sleipnir and ruffled his hair, “go say good morning to mama, baby boy, mummy will watch the cakes.”

Sleipnir nodded and ran over to you and hugged your legs, “Morning mama! Mummy offered to do some baking to calm me down! We made cookies, cakies, muffins, bwownies! Would you wike some?” the child asked and grinned, looking up at his adopted mother with a prideful look on his face.

Taking a look at all the treats that the boys had made, you smiled and picked the child up to settle him on your hip, “my my my, you and mummy definitely have been busy! Cookies of all sorts of flavours? Cakes? Ooooh an excellent selection of muffins! Double chocolate chip, blueberry, raspberry! Boys, you spoil the whole family!”

“They’re for my siblings!” Sleipnir smiled as he picked up one of the child-sized muffins that Loki made so that he could have one, “mummy said that he is bringing Uncle Thor to the upper islands to save Fenny! Den we’re going to save Jörmy! He gonna try to get Hel, too! We gon’ be a famiwy!”

You looked up from the excited boy to smile at Loki with tears in your eyes, “you’re bringing them back? Oh, Loki!” you smiled and ran over to him, holding Sleipnir steady before pulling Loki in with your free hand and hugging him on the side, “you’re so wonderful, honey!!”

Loki laughed sheepishly and rested his head on her head as he looked out of the window to the gardens with a happy sigh, “I think it’s time that they know home, don’t you? All of my children deserve to be free. They were pardoned years ago but they still haven’t been released from their confinement.”

Ever since Fenrir had been banished, Loki had fought tooth and nail to find out where he and the rest of his siblings would be hidden. Fenrir’s island had been hidden from him through Odin’s seiðr and he hated the old man for ever thinking that his son would be dangerous without being provoked. So, Loki had sat down with Frigga a day ago and spoken with her about where his children were hidden. She had been helpful in telling him where Fenrir and Hel were since he already knew where Jörmungandr would be. Loki was finally so close to freeing his family, he could feel it.

The silence that followed was comfortable, everybody in the kitchen munching on a sweet treat as they indulged in the hug and the comforts of their thoughts. Loki allowed himself to finally feel comfortable in your arms. He was away from Thanos. He had saved Frigga. Thor was King. He was finally at peace with the world around him and he knew that whatever was around the corner, having this backup would always comfort him.

“Loki?” your voice broke through his thoughts and Loki looked toward you with a gentle smile, humming to signal that you had gotten his attention, “when are you leaving?”

Loki sighed and looked over to the Midgardian clock that you had mounted in the private kitchens of his apartment and sighed as he studied the handles, “in about an hour, darling. Thor is still out celebrating his coronation and I swore to him that I would not try to destroy such a party in his honour.”

“You put a glitter bomb on his chair, didn’t you?” you broke through the innocence of Loki’s explanation. You knew that whenever Loki ever said anything about letting Thor relax, he had mischief up his sleeve.

Loki rolled his eyes and chuckled as he pouted, “you are so unfair, darling, you can’t let me have any fun. I wanted it to be a funny surprise when we went to pick him up.”

“Loki you can’t hide anything from me, and you know it. I am your beloved and I shall always be able to tell that you are up to mischief. Anyway, if you leave in an hour, you have half an hour to spend with our cute little baby and me!” You smiled and looked down at Sleipnir, who had just begun to fall back to sleep even if it was ten in the morning.

Loki chuckled and rolled his eyes before guiding his soulmate into the living space of his apartment and he sat down, pulling you down into his lap and he teleported Sleipnir so that he was laid across the sofa with his head snugly on Loki’s lap. This was his family and Loki was proud of it, he would always love his little family.

The next half hour was spent with Loki talking quietly with you about mundane things, perhaps a few mentions of moving to Midgard here and there but they did not want to get into big subjects until his children were used to being around people again. They talked about your pregnancy and about how you planned on having the baby. Loki nor you knew the impact of having a Jötun child or what might happen to you during labour.

After Loki had gotten ready and Sleipnir was left to be babysat by one of the maids, you easily led the way to the feasting halls where they could hear the loud music and the laughter roaring from inside. Loki felt that perhaps his prank had already been pulled off but his seiðr told him that the prank hadn’t been activated yet. Stepping into the hall, Loki smelt the prominent scent of booze and all the delicious goods that the staff had brought up from the royal kitchens. Loki enjoyed the scent for a moment before walking through the crowd to where Thor was laughing with his friends.

“If it is alright with you, brother, I would like to get going,” Loki murmured to Thor and the newly crowned King glanced at him before sighing and looking at the Warriors Three.

Thor had never been one for keeping on time and Loki knew that, so he knew not to be disappointed the moment that Thor started speaking, “Loki! My brother, just a few more minutes, if you will?”

“Of course, my banished children may wait a few more minutes, Odinson.”

That caught Thor’s attention and he had the audacity to look forlorn. Thor mumbled a quick ‘forgive me’ to his brother before walking over to the royal table, raising his mead high and tapping a spoon against it, “your attention everyone? This feast shall be closing promptly, gather at the tables for the final meal to celebrate the dawning of a new age for Asgard.”

Everyone gathered at the tables that now appeared back in place as they had been days ago before being pushed to the side to be used as snack tables and a place to grab drinks. Loki ushered you to your seats, and he sat down with you, his hand on your thigh the entire time and then, Loki turned his attention towards his brother, “we are all waiting on you, your majesty.”

Thor looked to his brother and smiled warmly before sitting down in the King’s chair only to fly up when glitter exploded all around him and he yelled in fright and the entire room burst into roars of laughter as their King, now covered in glittery pink, blue, red and purple turned to his brother.

“LOKI!!!” was Loki’s signal to smirk and twist his wrist, dropping the illusion of himself and you being seated at the table, and he clapped from the other side of the hall.

“Long live King Thor!” he yelled, and the room laughed again before Loki froze Thor in place. Now that Thor could not murder Loki for at least ten minutes, Loki turned towards his pregnant soulmate with a soft smile, “if you will, my princess? Close your eyes.”

Curiously, you raised an eyebrow and then closed your eyes tight. You listened to the audience they had and heard a sharp gasp to your right. You could only imagine what Loki was doing in front of you and when you heard the whisper of ‘open your eyes’, your eyes snapped open to see Loki down on one knee with a golden dagger and a ring wrapped around the hilt of the blade, kept in place by the pattern of the pommel, in the shape of his symbol on Midgard, two serpents wrapped around each other.

“Loki...?” you mumbled weakly, looking down at Loki with uncertainty, tears brimming in your eyes.

Loki chuckled breathily, “you know? I once said this about my idea of love... that love is a dagger, it’s a weapon to be wielded far away or up close... You can see yourself in it, it’s beautiful! Until it makes you bleed... and then, ultimately when you reach for it... it wouldn’t be real... now you, y/n, changed my whole perception of love... you made me rethink that metaphor and I know now that yes, love is a dagger, but it doesn’t make you bleed when you reach for it! You can grab it, hold it close and it will protect you. Y/n Y/l/n... Will you be my dagger?”

You sobbed and covered your mouth with your hands, nodding furiously as tears spilled freely and you jumped into his arms, “yes, Loki! Yes, I will!! I will marry you and be your dagger!!”

Loki smiled brightly and swayed with you side to side as everyone applauded to them, even Thor looked less angry than he did before the proposal and giving of the traditional weapon.

“No matter what happens in our marriage or through your pregnancy, darling, I will always have you, I promise.”

#loki pregnancy fic #tom hiddleston #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki x you #requests open #imagines #loki layfeyson x you #this was so cute #HE PROPOSED #love is a dagger #loki laufeyson #god of mischief

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