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rookthorne · 10 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢��𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

Shopping in your favourite art store with Bucky brings back the memory of your first encounter, and after so much time has passed, it was with fondness that you looked back on just how starstruck you were in his presence.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✿ Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✿ 1.9k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✿ Tooth rotting fluff, Bucky is a flirt ჻჻჻ TROPES: Meet Cute

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✿ I have a thing for meet cutes — sue me.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ✿ Kickstart My Heart by Mötley Crüe

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✿ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer ჻჻჻ Week 5 - "When I first met you..." — Masterlist

𝐈𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The art store you had been visiting for years was the same as ever – warm tones and homey vibes, organised by product and perfectly aesthetically pleasing to wander up and down the aisles.

It was a wonderland you would ever willingly get lost in.

A hand suddenly brushed your lower back, and you smiled. “You get all you need, Sunshine, baby?”

“I mean,” you hummed, turning to face Bucky. “I could get a lot more…”

“No,” Bucky deadpanned, face impassive par the raised brow. “You know the rules.”

You pouted at him, pleading silently, but Bucky only rolled his eyes and wandered off to the aisle of sketch pads and books. “You can get one more thing, that’s it,” he called over his shoulder. “No more than that.”

“Yes,” you cheered under your breath, ecstatic with the small win. With renewed excitement, you browsed the aisles of pencils and paints, a simple goal in mind. For a long while now, even before you had met Bucky, you had wanted to draw – capture the wonders in your mind and the beauty of the world around you.

In fact, it was in this very shop where you met Bucky for the first time. Butterflies filled your stomach at the memory – you had been so shy, so taken aback that he was even talking to you, that you were sure that the shock would be permanently etched onto your expression.

Birthday present shopping was always tricky – even more so when you were looking for something at the last damn second. The tinkle of the bell alerted your arrival, and you glanced over to see the smiling, friendly face of your friend and shop owner, Wanda. “Hey, you,” she greeted. “Back in again?”

“You know me, Wands,” you replied, shrugging. “I always leave it to the last minute.”

Wanda laughed and nodded before a fond smile made her eyes twinkle in the warm light. “Just let me know if you need help, alright?”

With a wave, you wandered through her shop, one goal in mind: a canvas of the best quality and maybe a few paints – who knew? You could walk out with a lot more; it was entirely dependent on the muse. Painting together with your friend was a tradition that you’d held for years now.

Humming a quiet song, you browsed the aisles for something to catch your eye when you side stepped and hit something solid. “Oh, shit–” You gasped, turning to see it was a person and not a shelf. The man was tall with cropped hair, a denim jacket over his shoulders, and bright blue eyes. “I am so sorry, oh my gosh–”

“You’re fine,” he replied, face blank. He quickly bent to pick up the paper you had knocked from his hands. Before you could offer more apologies, he straightened up and looked at you, gaze soft but considering. “No harm done.”

His stare pinned you in place, and your mouth opened slightly before you could stop it. “O-Okay, yeah,” you stuttered, cursing the overwhelming shyness that engulfed you whole and the damn butterflies that had taken refuge in your stomach. “I’m gonna- Uh, yeah. Bye.”

Before he could reply, you sidestepped him and rushed down the aisle to take refuge in the next one over, where more sketchbooks and pads were neatly lined up in rows on the shelves. Wanda looked up from behind the till with a sly smirk and a raised brow, as though she had heard your exchange with the handsome stranger, and you shot her a look that you hoped she’d take to heart – keep quiet.

Taking a deep breath, you began to look properly at the options available when you felt a presence next to you. “This one’s the best,” they said, voice perfectly deep and gravelly, and the sound made the cluster of butterflies in your stomach switch into frenzied flight. “You need to make sure the paper has the thickness for your medium, y’know?”

A tattooed hand moved into your field of vision, and you took a second to stare at the intricate designs woven into tanned, rough skin – peeking out from the rings and scarred calluses. Unbidden, your eyes travelled up their arm until you were face to face with the same man as before – the same one you had bumped into. His smile was small, gentle in nature.

“I love your tattoos,” you blurted, and your eyes widened slightly at the words that fell from your lips. But the man’s laughter was worth it – honeyed and sounding like molten chocolate, exactly like the ones you imagined from your romance books.

“Thanks, sweetheart, I did ‘em myself,” he replied. His other arm came into view, and you glanced at it to see even more designs – this time, a wolf and some sort of machinery.

“Wait,” you hesitated, looking into his face. A sudden realisation dawned on you – this was Bucky Barnes, the owner of one of the best tattoo shops in the area, and he was right in front of you. “Oh my god, you’re Bucky Barnes!”

“In the flesh,” Bucky laughed. He was grinning now, his eyes bright with mirth. “What’s a beautiful ray of sunshine doin’ here, huh?”

You laughed nervously, moving your hand to rub at the back of your neck on instinct. “I, um. I came to pick out a present.”

“Oh?”

“It’s my friend’s birthday, and we paint together sometimes,” you continued. Bucky was still smiling, but his gaze was flicking between your lips and your eyes as you spoke. The butterflies continued to flutter at a frenzied pace, each bouncing off the walls with fevered excitement. You took a subtle deep breath, hoping it would calm the nerves that were beginning to boil over.

“Sounds like fun, doll,” Bucky said, still with that damned smile on his lips. “I’m in here picking up supplies for the idiots back in the shop.”

You chuckled quietly and turned back to the paper that lined the shelves. Bucky’s hand reached out before you could look closer at the options and grabbed at least several pads, the paper bending slightly in his grip. “I best keep goin’,” Bucky sighed. “I’ll catch you at the till.”

“Okay,” you squeaked.

Bucky winked and made his way back over to the aisle of pencils, leaving you dumbfounded, standing rooted to the spot in shock. “What the fuck,” you murmured, wringing your hands. “Just… What the fuck.”

With haste, you chose some sketch and canvas pads to share with your friend. Then you wandered over towards the paints – resolutely ignoring the way Wanda’s eyes followed you or how Bucky dawdled in front of the selection of coloured pencils, phone in hand and a startlingly serious glare on his face.

The sound of your footsteps on the wooden floor drew his attention, and the glare softened only slightly, as he looked over at you. You smiled back at him and then looked at the vast paint selection – deciding to stick with contrasting colours.

Before long, your arms were overflowing with paints and paper and canvases. “Hey,” you said, coming round the corner of the aisle to see Wanda waiting patiently, that sly smirk still on her lips. “I’m finally done.”

“You should have a rule that you can’t buy the whole damn store, Sunshine,” Bucky piped up from behind you, a low chuckle in his tone. You jumped slightly, turning to look over your shoulder and roll your eyes at him.

“Oh, shush, Bucky,” Wanda teased, “you leave my girl alone.” Her hands moved to grab a bag, and she began to scan your acquired goods, her eyes glancing up and flicking between the two of you.

“She’s the one that bumped into me!” Bucky cried, widening his eyes. “Ain’t my fault.”

“And I apologised,” you clipped back.

“I dunno ‘bout that, doll,” Bucky replied, placing his books and massive array of pencils on the counter. “I would feel better if you let me pay for your supplies. Can’t deprive a ray of sunshine like yourself of that beautiful smile, can I?”

“Oh my god,” you breathed, hiding your face in your hands.

Wanda chuckled next to you. “You two are so cute–Buck here is only nice around me. He’s a grumpy bastard most of the time. It’s nice to see.”

“Wands,” Bucky groaned, glaring at her. You peeked through your hands to watch the exchange. “Seriously?”

“What? I’m telling the truth,” Wanda said flippantly, continuing to scan your items until she was finished – then she started scanning Bucky’s. You went to open your mouth, but she shot you a look. “I won’t hear a word against it, darling.”

A beat of silence passed as you fidgeted with your hands. You glanced up at Wanda quickly, and she pointedly glanced between you and Bucky as Bucky stared off at something in the distance.

Fuck it, you thought. “I-I just, I thought you were awesome,” you whispered, looking at Bucky through your lashes. He turned and looked at you, smiling while crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve been a fan for so long, and I just can’t believe you’re here–talking to me.”

“Aw, sweetheart,” Bucky said softly. “It’s good to meet you too, why don’t you come back to the shop with me–you can meet the idiots. My treat.”

“Really?” You rushed, excitement flooding your body at the prospect of meeting the entirety of 107th Ink. “I would love to, oh my god.”

Bucky winked. “Good–I have a feeling they’d love you, Sunshine. I have definitely enjoyed your company.”

“Alright, love birds,” Wanda laughed. “Here you go.”

“We’re friends!” You spluttered, and Bucky roared with laughter, shaking his head as he paid. “Wands–”

“It doesn’t matter, doll,” Bucky cut in, his eyes flashing with something. “Nothin’ wrong with a bit of flirtin’ between friends, is there?”

Ice cold realisation flooded your mind. It wasn’t everyday chatter, you were too damn starstruck by meeting an idol to realise he was openly flirting with you – Bucky Barnes, the stoic and grumpy tattoo legend, flirting with you.

“No,” you whispered, abashed and overwhelmed. “No, there isn’t.”

Bucky didn’t appear to hear you. “Alright, Wands, see you next time.” The floors creaked under his boots as he turned to walk towards the door, and you followed quickly, waving over your shoulder at a giggling Wanda. “Let’s go meet the idiots,” Bucky remarked, grinning at you while he adjusted the bags in his hands.

“Okay,” you replied, falling into step next to him on the footpath. “Let’s go.”

A noise from behind you startled you from the memory, and you glanced over your shoulder to see Bucky talking to another customer – expression stoic and blank as he discussed what looked to be the difference between different pencils. It was endearing, so close to how you had met him.

You observed for a moment longer until Bucky noticed you staring, and he departed the customer’s company to walk over to you. “You alright, baby?”

“Yeah,” you sighed happily, grinning at him. “Just remembering how we met.”

Bucky chuckled. “You were so damn shy–I thought if I flirted with you anymore, you would have keeled over and died on the spot.”

“I probably would have,” you said, shaking your head. “I was so starstruck and nervous to realise it was you flirting until you paid for my things.”

“That’s alright, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, throwing an arm over your shoulder to direct you to the counter where Wanda awaited, a smug smile on her lips. “You’re mine now. That’s all that matters.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #hotbuckysummer2023 #rookthorne's works #SB

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homesickn · 1 year

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My Heart

Soft!dark Loki x Reader. (Ghostface!Loki)

Loki is your special guide on an acting play in Asgard. How will it turn out? It will certainly be a Scream!

(Scream-inspired, ghostface!Loki, he's a bit obsessive too, who could have guessed?)

Warnings: this fic is exclusively explicit +18, a lot of blood, Dom!Loki, angst (at least reader cries a lot), stalking, Loki is a bit mean at times, blood kink, murder, psychological horror, possessive Loki, obsessive Loki, dark!Loki, scared reader. Be safe! ;)

You were fixing your hair and taking a look at the fancy dressing options for the official play, taking place in the center of Asgard, a place properly dedicated for cultural artistic exposition.

A bunch of the most famous actors throughout all of Asgard were coming to interpret roles in the huge theater near the castle, as an official tradition. Asgard is often envied in the matter of culture and in their specific field of acting art.

You've never felt more treasured, it surely felt gifting to be able to experience such an unique phenomenon, to be invited to such a thing.

And you're human. It feels a whole lot to you.

Far away from your home on Earth.

As much as it bothered you, you had to keep your mind off the annoying sting in your chest. You came here for an honorable reason, to represent as a Midgardian diplomat, settled by Thor to help him with his rules and studies for Asgard and the other realms, as he already knew you, he thought you to be the perfect fit. You don't want to disappoint.

But this loneliness is unlike any other, you can't help but wonder how your family and friends are doing, at home. You could fully say with conviction that the only friend you have is the godly Avenger that swore to protect you through your journey out of your original realm.

You were okay with it, until you had to get down and face the real world. You wore the very detailed white royal dress that most appealed to your eyes, and went downstairs to meet with the known blond just waiting for your presence, awkwardly messing with his…formal, hero cape.

He says your name with hesitance, “I'm so sorry, my friend. I truly am, I won't be able to attend the event,” he expresses, you frown and press your hand to your heart.

“What? You're the only friend I have here, am I supposed to go alone?” You're quick to ask.

“You can go with Loki,” he mentions the dark prince, you blink.

Loki wasn't a bad man to you, from what you've known of him, you're not a judgemental person, you don't like going for other people's words. But he's known on Earth for being a murderer, you watched the news, even though you weren't present during the attack you still could feel the pain that all those victims went through. It felt like you're betraying them, like you're hurting them by thinking of befriending the god.

However, since you've shown up on Asgard, Loki has been nothing but amicable to you. You just hesitated considering him a friend, whatsoever, he's a person you've —unfortunately — come to admire.

Whenever he passes by your sight is attached to him, as if you've been hypnotized, he's charming, pleasing to be around, your sense of humor matches a lot from what you've had the pleasure of discovering of him.

“Loki?” You repeat, letting the name echo through the walls of the castle. You're momentaneously afraid you've summoned him with the name.

“Yes, he's not too bad,” Thor looks a bit embarrassed of having to state so. “He's kind when you spend time with him, I know he'll treat you well. And if there's one thing my brother loves more than anything, is the events that involve acting around here. You have to see just how bright his eyes sparkle when he watches the plays, and this one in particular is one of his favorites. We used to watch it with father when we were younger.”

You were now enchanted by Thor's description, your eyes shining at the idea of having someone acknowledged to teach you more of something you already enjoy so much, you're also a huge fan of acting, and theatrical acting was a hidden passion you've always adored.

The thought of Loki liking this so much excites you, because you love surrounding yourself with enthusiastic people, you love seeing them being passionate about what they love. You thought it wouldn't be so bad to have a guide, it is definitely a better option than to go just by yourself, or to refuse and stay in bed for the day.

“Well…” You think for a second, looking around then coming back to Thor. “I don't see why not.” You shrug your shoulders, the blond god gives you a bright smile and says he'll catch him for you.

You wait at the entrance, looking all like a real princess waiting for her prince to take her to a royal ball.

“This is too fancy for me,” you look down at yourself, somehow feeling a sense of imposter syndrome. Feeling unbelonging, too human for this, it's way more than you could ever dream of. “I shouldn't be here.”

“Now, why would you say such a thing?” A low soft voice asks you from nowhere, you jolt as you turn quickly, recognizing the owner of the voice.

Loki gulps as he shares eye contact with you, glancing down at your pretty dress, you take a moment to appreciate his beautiful princely outfit, black and green, with tiny golden sparkling details. His body seemingly just fit for the measures of the clothes, you think you've lost your breath for a second.

He smirks as he catches you staring.

“Princess?” Your heart flutters a little, you swear your legs feel a bit shaky from the endearment.

“I'm not a princess,” you hurry to correct, your cheeks heating up against your will.

“You look just like one. You can be a princess, and if you don't like it, you have the experience for the night.” He offers his hand to you with a charming smile.

“No one would believe I'm a princess, prince Loki.” You challenge him.

“They will if I treat you like one,” he licks his lips and his eyes give you such softness you could melt again. Another pang, the betrayal, the attack on Earth.

You're the one to gulp nervously now, taking your eyes off of him and looking to the road ahead.

“You don't need to, it's fine,” and you quickly hurry to change the subject before he can protest. “Shall we go? Otherwise we'll miss the time. Nobody likes being late.”

★

You and Loki arrive at the festival together, getting off the carriage, he offers his hand again when you're exiting, like a true gentleman.

There's a lot of drinking, dancing, and singing. The theater is still empty waiting for the actors to arrive. Your excitement is likely palpable, Loki could swear he feels it radiating off of you.

“It's okay, princess,” he says loud enough for others to hear, placing his arms around you. You blush but refuse to protest, he gives you a knowing look and a mischievous smile. “We can have our fun before the show. Let me show you around all the cultural Asgardian beauty.”

They had a lot of variable types of drinks, a lot of dancing presentations for people to watch, and the singers had the most amazing intonations that your ears could be blessed to hear. You couldn't believe how lucky you were, to be able to humanely get in touch with the art from the gods themselves.

The harp brought an etheric touch to all the singing, the harsh intoning of the words whilst they sung something in their native languages, deep voices to match their godly vocal chords. Be it from the realm they were, your heart clenched in delight from all the admiring.

Loki was an impeccable guide, showing you some popular dishes, giving you the most delectable desserts, and watching the performances with you. Thor was right, you could see the special touch he had with art, it was as if he forgot everything else around him when he got close to it.

“This play will be my favorite,” he musters and you stop to listen, carefully. His voice is low but the smile he's wearing really makes you interested in what he has to say. It's like a secret you're two are sharing.

“What's the name of the play?” You couldn't believe Thor hadn't told you this before, you felt a bit ignorant towards the conversation. Loki puts his hands on your back again to calm your nerves down.

“The Masquerade,” he almost whispers. Like a real secret, almost as if he could read you.

“Oooh,” you teasingly express. “The Masquerade, such an interesting name, will they wear the masks?” For a second you feel dumb to ask, Loki only laughs a little and rubs your back to comfort you.

“Yes, yes, they will. I truly hope you find it as beautiful as I do.” His eyes sparkle with a sprinkle of mischief among the kindness.

“I probably will,” you say more to yourself than to him. If he thinks it's beautiful, there's one more reason for you to like it, there's a special key to the piece, they caught someone's love before you've met it. “What's it about, anyways?”

He looks down at you due to the height difference and brings his gaze back to your eyes, deep piercing blue staring right into you, you feel a bit sick from the closeness.

“It's…uhh,” he pauses, a bit sheepish, you never thought you'd see the infamous, 'evil' god of mischief looking embarrassed to talk about something he loves. He clears his throat. “It talks about several people meeting at a Masquerade ball, one of them, the leader, —who is the murderer, but it's a fact unknown to the characters of the play— wears a mask that resembles the face of a comical ghost, it may sound a bit silly, but it's really symbolic. It has the horror of course, putting the thrill aside.” He still blushes to say.

He continues.

“The thrill of having to discover who is responsible for the murders whilst everyone worries because their lives are at risk, you don't know which ones you trust, there's just…something about it that makes me terrified, I think that's why I'm so invested in the story.” He manages to explain to you. “But I really like it, I've even read the scripts before, a few times. I had the pleasure of reading the original one when it was created.”

Your eyes widen as he says it all. “I love these kinds of things! The mystery!” You exclaim. “I love it, and we'll get to see who's actually the murderer at the end, right? Sometimes I tend to get my intuitions wrong,” you joke.

He chuckles, a bit surprised. “Yes, of course. Where would be the fun if we never get to know who did it all?”

“And you're quite old, huh?” You give a teasing smile, he shakes his head, smiling too. “You know so many things from so many years ago.”

“Don't let this disappoint you, I hope.” There's a glint and the softness he always presents to you. You feel queasy, you feel happy. “Your mortality is not an issue here.”

As the festival went on, even the Warriors did their own little stunt to occupy the time, but the actors never arrived. You were starting to get a bit restless, you wanted to watch the show and you feared you wouldn't get to see what Loki so lovingly shared with you.

Everybody gave out a gasp of exasperation when all the lights of the event were turned off. People immediately sighed a bothered "blackout", but even the candles were blown off, leaving everyone in a sea of darkness swallowing all the excitement there was before.

“We can't enjoy the event without lights!” One of the warriors complained, you couldn't quite remember his name.

“Why can't I light the candle? The fire just doesn't lit,” someone complained loudly. “Where is a God of Fire when you need one?”

“I bet that's all because Thor's not here!”

You turn your head around the annoyed complaints of the people, listening to them all in confusion. Loki made sure to appease everyone telling us that we should all stay calm, that the problem will probably be solved soon.

“How could we know? We can't trust this snake!” Someone screamed, pointing at Loki.

“I'm the prince, and I was raised to rule,” Loki had a stern expression as he spoke. “Whether you like it or not, it's true. As Thor is gone for now, I will listen to all the complaints you have.”

“I bet he did it on purpose!” An old Asgardian lady yelled behind the crowd.

“Why would I? I have nothing to gain from this, it's just more of a headache for me,” he said annoyed now, he probably couldn't handle accusations when all he was trying to do is enjoy something he loves.

“He wanted to watch the show like everybody else,” you awkwardly meek the words out, you felt ashamed as soon as they came out and the people looked at you.

“This trickster has watched the same play a thousand times!” Someone gestured rudely with their hands. “He knows every detail probably, he's not doing anything for us.”

“Silence!” Loki orders, “I will not tolerate insolence! You wish to complain, you do so, but meanwhile, I'll put my best efforts to fix the issue.”

You thought the blackout was going to last for maybe a few minutes, but after a while with each sound of nature echoing throughout the open space, you questioned if you're wrong after all. Why was everyone still in the dark? The complaints were now too loud for your ears.

And the worst part is that you've lost sight of Loki. You remind yourself of some old men pulling him by his sleeves, you try to remember what the men's faces looked like, but it remains unsuccessful.

Your heart is quaking with anxiety, he was your only access to hanging out around Asgard, without Thor around or his trusted brother, you feel completely at loss.

Furiously looking around the place to check if there's anything you can find, whilst others are starting to grab their things to go away.

A sudden light hits the entire circle, a brighter light stinging the people's sight and coming from the theater stage. You hiss and move your gaze, trying to fathom what it's going on.

“The actors are never going to come.” Says a terrified man among the crowd, he's gasping as he looks at the empty stage. What does he mean by that? “Where's the King?! Where's Thor?!”

“We have to run!” An old lady screams, bumping your shoulders as she runs in the opposite direction, grabbing all her stuff. You're still confused but you recompose yourself and immediately try to go somewhere darker.

You scramble through your mind to think of where Loki may be at, you don't want to imagine him suffering with any possible attacks. And your eyes fickle to the golden castle sticking close to the theater area.

You imagine that's the place where they might've taken Loki to, so you run there, readying yourself to the presence of an unquiet Loki, or maybe a tired, questioning Thor, wondering what all the fuss is about, both the princes immediately trying to solve the problems. You'd run and embrace yourself in the feeling of safety around their presence.

Instead of that, the castle was all empty, you knitted your eyebrows as your skin shivered from the cold you felt in the air. The golden castle has never been so cold, and it seems all the lights have gone out here too.

You're alone. There are no palace staff even, no cooks, no nurses, the princes are nowhere in sight. Alone. And it frightens you, you feel the loneliness ripping your bones as you wonder if staying with the angry mob would be a greater idea than trying to come to the castle.

You hear a ringing way too loud for the quiet atmosphere, you recognize the sound of your cell phone ringing. You run to where your temporary room is, and grab the vibrating phone in your hands.

You're puzzled, it's odd. It isn't supposed to function, it never does. Who would want to call you when you're so far from Earth?

Nobody here has a phone connection, so why does it work? Could it be someone from Earth calling you?

You'd probably ask Thor about this later, but you see the number is unknown. You ask yourself if it's possible for the marketing programs to call you even from another realm of distance. You muffle a small laugh as your mental joke eases your nerves.

You hesitantly accept the call, feeling curious.

“Hello?! Is anybody there??!” The raspy male voice questions frantically, it seemed almost robotic, sounding like they're out of breath, you can hear a tiny sob coming from the other line.

“Y-yes, who is it?” You shiver as you listen to your own voice ringing in the closed room.

“Please! Please help me!” The weird voice pleads you. “Please, I found this device out in the blackout, I don't know where I am. But I have you. Please help me.”

You try to shush him calmly. But you're scared as you're still alone, and the voice calling you sounds male but unrecognizable.

“Look I'm sorry, I'm not a person you should be calling right now, I'm really lost too.” You try to explain peacefully, your chest aching from feeling useless. “Please, forgive me,” You hang up.

Seconds later as you ready yourself to leave, organizing all the important stuff, there's the ringing again. You groan loudly and answer the call.

“Hello?!”

“Are you alone?” He asks, giving another sob through the line. “I'm sorry if you are, I just feel uneasy.”

“I'm packing my things to go face an angry mob of people. Why did you call me back? I told you I can't help you.”

“You'd rather face some angry people than help me?” He asks, quite stressed, all of a sudden sounding a bit angry. Your body stills on the spot.

“I don't know who you are!” He sighs as he hears you.

“That's fair.” A silence rings. You sigh and hang up again.

As you walk out the room, the phone rings again.

“I was testing you, I know a woman that's alone shouldn't come around to help people they don't know, you're really smart.”

“Is it you again?” You ask out of patience.

“What are you doing now?” He sounds more curious.

“I told you, I'm packing my things.”

“Why are you lying to me?” You freeze.

“...Excuse me?” You look around and check if there's anyone that saw you leave your room. “Also, wait. How do you know I'm alone? I never told you I was…”

“Were you on the play?” He changes subject.

“I-uhm…Yeah, I was. I wanted to watch it- yeah. Now answer my question!” You respond feeling incredibly uneasy.

“I was there too. Are you also human?”

“Me? Yes, I'm the Midgardian. You're from Earth?” You walk and get giddier on the call, someone from Earth in Asgard would bring you more familiarity. For a minute you forgot your question remained unanswered.

“Was just curious. Thor likes you a lot. He speaks a lot about you.”

“Thor? Yeah, he's my friend...” You wonder why the stranger is bringing him to the topic.

“I think I found a light, will you stick on the line until I reach it?”

“Sure thing.” You don't know why, though you don't see anything wrong with waiting. Your every move is still shaky from fear.

“You never told me your name.” He says suggestively, you hurry down the stairs and breathe out the next words.

“Why do you wanna know my name?”

“Because I want to know who I'm looking at.” A shiver runs down your spine. Like a whiplash, you feel observed as you search your surroundings.

“...What?”

“I wanna know who I'm talking to.”

“That's not what you said.”

“What do you think I've said?” He asks, feigning confusion.

You rush to the entrance only to notice the doors are locked, your hands shaking as you knock the door repeatedly to call attention from the outsiders. You're sure the stranger heard you banging the door through the call. Shit.

You don't say anything as you hang up this time. You try to compose your breathing, the phone rings once again but you don't move to accept the call.

“Someone!! Help me!” You loudly call, waiting for a response, a sign, anything. The dark was even scarier after the call you received, the cold all too threatening, like a bunch of invisible eyes looking under your skin.

After some moments of silence passing through your weeping eyes, you're fighting to keep the sobs hidden by putting your hand to your mouth to muffle the noise.

You kneel down, body glued to the door, holding it for dear life, your heartbeat a bit too loud for your eardrums. You're hugging your knees in a position of defeat as your body trembles with each sob.

You're wondering if the Asgardians had evacuated the castle and forgotten about you. You wondered if Loki forgot about you.

Your phone rings.

“Don't you hang up on me again or I'll make sure you're the first one to get killed.” Your sobs get even louder. “I'll gut you like a fish and feed your organs to the wolves!”

“What are you doing?! Who are you?!” You ask, clenching your fist to your chest. The rough voice from the other line chuckling from your questions.

“Does it matter, sweetheart? You want out, don't you? Poor thing, locked alone in the castle…”

“Please…don't hurt me…”

“You've told me once you like scary stuff, thrillers.” You fight not to hyperventilate. “Let's try some method acting, shall we?”

“No…no I don't. I don't like this shit.” You grit your teeth.

“You do, sweetheart. Don't lie to me. Don't you want to join my play? I planned it just for us, I thought you wanted to watch it. I can make you a star.”

“What?! No…” You cry.

The door opens out of a sudden and your body falls to the dirty earthy ground. You leave a groan, when your head lifts you're surprised by the dark that's out in the wild, the only light being the stars above your head and the vast bright moon occupying the sky.

You lift yourself with trembling knees and hear a voice coming from the phone.

“If you ignore me one more time I'll fucking cut your neck off, you stupid little bitch!” The person threatens and you visibly recoil, throwing the phone very far away, ignoring his instructions and running for dear life.

Panting on your way through the golden speckled Asgardian trail out of the castle, darkened by the lack of lightning that you find in the way, you breathe as best as you can, ignoring the fear clutching your heart and the tears pricking your eyes, face puffy and your nose beginning to stuff.

“Damn it,” you tremble and fall in your steps. Sobbing to the air. “Shit, shit…” You curse to the skies as you try to regain your steadiness.

You start listening to a noise behind you, shuffling the bushes and startling you even more. When you pay attention, there are a pair of black boots making their way out of the bushes, right to your direction. A cloak covers down their ankles while your eyes widen.

You don't stay behind to care for whom it may be, nor wait to check their face, and you keep running.

You're startled as a man comes to your line of vision, screaming, frantic. You tremble and end up falling backwards on the ground, he falls on top of you. Your hands are punching him to move off of you but he seemed just as frightened as you were.

He also noticed your punches were much weaker than the touches the gods carry. The strength they have. He supposed you were a human.

“Oh thank the Lord!” He praises God, and your face is entirely a mix of fear and anxiety, the tears making it very uncomfortable to keep your eyes open. “Thank the Heavens, you have to save me!”

“No!” You scream, pushing him away. A human. He doesn't fool you, he's the damn murderer that's been stalking you. You push his figure behind and he falls off his steps.

And then a knife craves his stomach, your eyes are wide and you're nauseated. The blood speckles to your terrified face. You can't help the scream that leaves you.

You quickly hurry to move up and keep on the run, suddenly someone grabs you by your neck, pulling your whole body up effortlessly, scaring all the breath out of your body.

You're pale as you realize the person is masked, wearing a ghost face mask and a cloak covering their entire body. The person from that was following you, the murderer.

“W-who…” You're fighting, clutching the gloved fingers holding you up and choking you by your pulse. “Who…I-I can't- breathe…” You say between resistant breaths.

“I told you not to ignore me, didn't I? I didn't think I'd need to repeat myself. You seemed like a pretty clever girl.” You recognized the voice from the phone.

“Please…”

“Don't beg, sweet. You're right where I want you to be.” He turns your body, clinging to you, pressing a knife near where his hand was, on your neck. This hand is now resting on your stomach. “I was waiting for this the whole night.”

“What?” You squirm around his grip, wanting to get out.

He clutches your face, forcing you to look at the stage. The one that was before empty, and now, is filled with decorations and blood stains. Your bile raised up to your throat.

Your eyes widened in fear and filled with terrified tears, you could barely hold your screech as you paid attention to the calculated amount of bodies on the floor of the stage.

You were now fully hitting him even though your limbs were being held tight, you still tried to escape.

“Don't be scared, princess.” A shiver runs through your skin, your whole face must be a mix of sweat and tears. It's like everything is turning in your head, dizzying you. Princess.

Cruel joke. Must be a cruel coincidence, a cruel joke against you. You imagined the killer heard the nickname Loki called you, you could only hope Loki was coming to save you anytime. Maybe he knew how much you liked him.

“Don't be scared, we're only starting the show.” He carries your body up and takes you closer to the stage, all while you punch him as best as you can with full fists. He doesn't seem to be affected by your weak punching.

“Shh, now.” He calms you through your breakdown, shushing you and moving a piece of your hair that was sticking on your forehead due to your sweating. “Shh, you'll like this game, I promise.”

“Game?” You repeat with a gasp, mouth open in fright. “I don't wanna play anything, you freak! You monster!” You try to jump off his embrace but he's stronger and clutches his hold onto you with more strength. “Please, let me go…”

“Come on, princess.” He calls through your cries, placing you down on a throne-looking piece in front of the stage, when you touched it, it felt so…real. You wondered how anyone would be able to bring a real golden throne to this place, you wondered if it was like the one the Asgardian King has.

“A real throne for a princess.” You felt the goosebumps rise one more time, bringing your attention out of your senses, as you looked at the masked freak. “You can't get out of this.” He says and you notice you can't move your hands, you actively scream out, really scared at being unable to move.

“What are you doing?! Why?” You wonder, and he touches your face delicately, the ghost face giving you a cold feeling down your spine, your eyes bright with tears as you look up to him.

He moves your face a bit, to get you to look at the stage instead of himself.

“We're just going to play a game, my princess.” He softly says, as much as his raspy voice can muster. You start shaking your head in denial, frantically.

“Please, no. You've had your fun, I promise I won't tell, please! Let me go!!”

“You wanted to watch the play, we're going to do so. You just have to guess who's the one that's guilty. If you get it right, nothing happens, and you get a reward. If you get it wrong, we're going to have even more fun.”

“Why are you doing this?” He doesn't respond, he keeps his hands on your shoulders as you watch ahead.

The play starts, a terrified man tries to run you, but he's interrupted like there's a wall in the way.

“Please, help me! I'm innocent, I need to go away.”

You try to move your hands but you can't. The Ghostface whispers in your ears.

“Do you trust him, sweetheart? It's in your hands.”

You shake your head and close your eyes, desperately trying to ignore the scene in front of you. More characters came into the scene.

“Don't worry about the actors, sweetheart,” his whispering was almost so soft for the fake covering voice, hidden behind the mask. “That man, the one that just screamed,” he points his knife to the man that's staring at him with big scared eyes. “He was wanted as a criminal, his reward was worth thousands of gold for arson, murder and sexual abuse.”

“S-so you don't think sexual abuse is correct?” You ask before even thinking, just feeling a wave of relief.

“What?” He sounds surprised for a second. “Why would I–? Oh, sweet? You thought I'd hurt you like this?” His voice sounded different at the moment he realized, like it really hit him somehow. “I'd never do this to you, there's no need to worry about that, I think it's the most disgusting of all crimes.” He says tilting the knife, you gulp not knowing what to do, but gratefully accepting the fact the killer had moral limits about this. At least.

“Pick one.” You realize you've barely paid attention to the play, to the actors moving.

“Please…” You keep on begging, maybe that'll help, but it gets him even more out of patience. “Please, I can't play with people's lives!”

“You should know what you were getting into before coming here.” He gets closer to your face, you only wish your hands could work so you could pull his mask off to know who he is. “Come on, pick one.”

All the characters looked terrified, one wore a sillier mask of the Ghostface that was beside you, purposely seeming fake and cheaper. You start shaking, it'd be too obvious to pick the Ghostface that's acting, he's supposed to be the story's murderer. No one was actually killed during the act, they just pretended to kill.

“Do you think he did it?” The real killer asks beside you, almost sitting by your side close to your throne. He steps in front of you, steps clear and slow as his boots hit the ground, making you fixated on his every move. “You've been looking at him.” He takes something out of his cloak, and you almost can't believe it when he pulls out a gun and shoots the guy wearing the leader's mask.

“NO!” You scream loudly, hoping to reach his ears before he finishes the murderous act.

A few more very loud shots were done, the stage was now shining with the stranger's dark red blood, and the actors were all shaking, shivering, on their best attempts at holding their cries, because they didn't want to be a part of it, they're afraid they'll be the next.

“This play is originally Midgardian,” he said, ignoring your cries. “Being written decades ago, only modern versions have this new weapon so the characters would be killed at a distance. I think it's practical for our current game.”

“NO, NO, NO, THAT'S HORRIBLE! STOP, STOP THIS, LET ME LEAVE! I DIDN'T PICK HIM, I DIDN'T WANT HIM TO DIE!” You scream and your whole body is shaking as you feel the guilt racking through your bones.

You feel his gloved hands caress your arms.

“Sweet,” his strange voice keeps calling you. “Princess, please, look at me. Look at me,” His glove is tainted with dark blood, staining the rich dark black material. He tilts your chin up to make you look at his masked face. You feel even more afraid, the unfamiliarity and fear burning up your body.

You can't stop crying, and your sobs are becoming louder and louder.

“Look at me. It's okay, remember what I told you? He didn't deserve to live. He was supposed to go through the death penalty anyways.” You didn't know if you trusted his words. You were scared. Terrified. Shaking, and now feeling so guilty you couldn't even think about being saved.

What if they put the blame on you? What about the disgust the princes will feel about you? You feel tainted, dirty, like you killed him yourself, with your bare hands.

You couldn't handle that, you didn't want to take the man's life. You couldn't stop looking at the blood, the smell of iron now clinging close to where you're stuck at.

“Please, let me go. You got what you wanted.” You try one more time.

“You think I got what I wanted?” His hands strongly hold your already immobile wrists. “Princess, I could do this anytime I wished, but I want you.” He says and you shiver even more. “I want you to be the star. My Queen. The one they admire, I want you to stay with me.”

“What? W-what do you mean by that?”

“Thor is not coming back.” He says almost too softly, nonchalant, apathetic, you want to throw up. You're feeling dizzy, there's a knot in your stomach and you don't know what to do.

“What?! What? What??! Why? What have you done to him?! What about Loki?!” You cry and beg for answers.

He chuckles. The mask moving with each small laugh he lets out, you want to rip it off his face. This person you already hate so much.

“It's so sweet of you, it matches your nickname. Sweet, sweet, darling thing. It's so beautiful to know just how much you care about me.” He moves the mask off his face and you're unmoving, you go completely limp as you stare at the face you admired before, the tears wouldn't go away.

Were they correct this whole time? You've been considering a psychopath as your friend this whole time?

“L-Loki?” You hate how you stutter as you say his name, you hate to see him smile at that. You hate that you don't hate him, because your brain can't link the murders to him. Not him. “Loki, why?”

“My father made me love this play, he taught me everything. I was here when it was created, Odin thought of the leaders like brave warriors, soldiers. The weaker ones got killed first but only he remained.” Loki's voice now sounded so suave to your ears, you imagined the strange one must have been granted through his magic and illusions.

“Such a beautiful story, sweetheart. It has so many layers, I can't wait for you to get involved in this artwork as much as I do.” His smile was so bright you felt nauseated, you couldn't even speak. “Look at the irony, look at it! The Norns must love me! Odin died first, he isn't here to present my thriving. I'm the only one that's left, the leader, the King, the ruler. I'm winning now, and the act is going on!”

He conjures a knife and presses it close to your neck, making you yelp and jump a little out of the chair. You're surprised you can move now, but he still grabs you forcefully and pulls you up to him.

“I was the one that made Thor bring you here. I was paying attention to you for so long, it didn't take much convincing until the oaf agreed, he even befriended you. You have no idea how long I've had to wait with my nerves at bay.” His jealousy was visible as he spoke and you shook from his words.

“Look at them. The blood of the undeserving, the weak ones. We are above them, my princess. You and me. We can win this game. I'd never, ever, hurt you.” He says the last sentence with a seriously cold expression, you open your mouth and leave out a loud cry. His frown deepen.

“What's wrong? I thought you wanted to see how the play goes?”

“Not like this. Please…Loki…” You feel his hand reaching under the skin of your dress, pulling it up and moving to caress your thigh. You feel perverted as your eyes open and you look at the blood and the terrified faces among the stage.

You take the moment he's distracted to rush out of his grip, he's caught unexpectedly so his knife accidently cuts your shoulder, you grunt from the small wound.

You turn to leave as quickly as you can, Loki chuckles to himself, thinking about how cute it is, that you think you can be quicker than him. That you're trying to escape, it's what a really smart princess would do, to be brave enough to try.

You pass through bushes, a weird unknown garden to you, wanting to find anyone else that was there before, anyone from the crowd that was running away, screaming loudly your pleas for help that no one hears.

You look behind, not seeing him makes you even more uneasy. You can feel his presence near you, you don't know where he is.

There's a particular downhill area you didn't see right in front of you, you accidently fall. Your legs failing you and hitting the ground from a long altitude distance, cutting your face and any naked skin you're letting out, your bones felt the fall and you curse how stupid you were not to pay attention.

Your skin is tainted with dirt, your face now on the ground. You think your foot is out of place as you groan out in pain, it hurts to move it. You can't believe you could ever be so stupid. Your dress is so painfully yellow after all the dirt.

You cry like a little kid.

You're surprised when your phone —the one you threw away — is right next to you, ringing and intact. Your face is so puffy from the fall, and because of all the crying, all the fear.

You move your arms and hold it close to your ears. “Hello?” Your voice trembles.

“I should have told you, you can't run away from me, darling.” Loki's voice echoes through your mind now, you almost feel it like a safety blanket covering your skin after the defeat, you don't know if you should accept the loss or not. Like a balm, a salve.

He's the one that hangs up this time.

You feel a pair of arms holding you up with him, cozying you into his arms, so you can peacefully rest your head onto his chest, still covered by the dark cloak.

He pats your head, letting his hand softly caress your back as you lay in his arms, he's carrying you somewhere else.

You see the people now, the Asgardians, and the actors from before. So you quickly put your head back to Loki's chest again, wishing to hide away.

“I shouldn't have just thrown it on you like that,” he keeps his soft touches on your clothed back, his magic cleaning the dirt on your skin, balming the wounds. “It takes a lot from someone, but you're so pretty when you're scared. I got carried away, I'm so sorry.” He quickly apologizes after he says so, you keep hidden, not wishing to speak.

He sighs tiredly, he massages your scalp, you almost mewl like a kitten when he does it. Your heart still aches with fear and he tears up at your shivering, afraid he's broken you.

“To all the Asgardians,” he begins, voice loud and authoritative. “I expect all of you to do your normal duties tomorrow, everyone in their expected places. I'll have the lights fixed after I have my fun.” His fingers massage your scalp as he mentions that. His other hand holds you up by your buttocks, he's steadying you in his arms.

Unknowingly to your hiding self, the Asgardians nod tearfully and all so scared of his statements. They all were quivering under Loki's gaze. He seemed like a true mad King to their eyes.

To Loki, he's never been more sane, this is all he ever wanted, he's got you in his arms now. And Thor is gone. He's a King.

“To the actors,” he looks at the frightened crew still in their respective places. “I expect a full play. Just as we planned.” He gestures to them to continue, they lock eyes with each other and look at the corpse close to their feet. “Now.” Loki could only roll his eyes with impatience.

They move in their respective places, getting ready for the show. Loki sits on the throne with you clinging to him like a koala. He's smirking all too proud, he loves feeling needed.

He considers putting the mask back, it's a symbol for greatness in this art. It's what his father used to say.

“Love,” he calls. Not wanting to frighten you more, you look up to him with a quivering lip. “You're okay, we're okay.”

He lifts a bit the end of your dress again, unbothered by the actors frantically moving among themselves, not knowing if they should look or not.

He grabs your ass cheek, making you gasp from the suddenness. You don't want to think about the scene, so you don't. You stick to appreciating his closeness, and him, you feel like a pervert for enjoying this, his low voice speaking against your skin.

He kisses you.

“I'll make you feel better.” He brings you up a bit to lick down your earlobe, moving to kiss your neck. “I'll make it all better, I promise. I've been reckless.” He says, taking off his gloves and pressing his nails against your skin, marking tiny half-moon shapes on your flesh.

Wanting to fully feel you, smiling as he remembers the desperation from the man, he's dreamt years of this performance. Of having a figure to be conquered, the star of the show, you.

The blood still covered his cloak, and it's starting to taint your beautiful, innocent skin. It entices him more, of course. He groans near your ear, you moan under his touch in response.

He hears the movement from the play and he grabs your hair tenderly, you've had enough for one day, he has to be kind, you need his softness that you adore so much. The one he reserves only for you.

He takes off your dress and lets it slip off your body, he's in awe as more of your skin reaches his eyes, his breath hanging for a second.

The actors now well enough not to look at you while the King has you in his arms.

He grabs more than he can, he feels graced by the Gods. He wants to suffocate you with his passion, the blood on your skin tainting his hands. The blood gets him so hard, leaving him impatient as he ruts against your clothed pussy, searching for friction.

He sucks on your neck, taking his time to your shoulders, your hands tremble as you move to grab his hair. You keep your eyes closed, each breath you tried to convince yourself this was completely fine.

Loki's eyes glance to the stage for a moment, he takes a look at a character picking the ghostface mask off the floor, and with a shaky breath and, most likely heavy heart, the next thing to be heard was a short scream. The cut of the knife tainted the actors even more, one of them turned to run to a corner and throw up.

Loki pressed his hands against your ears so you wouldn't listen to the vomit, nor the blood splashing out. But you knew.

"Weak bastards," Loki thought, "they'd never survive a war. Weak, fake puritans. Their blood is a noble sacrifice."

Loki kept a hold of your head to his chest so you wouldn't watch the scene, you were still shaking, poor thing, wouldn't be able to take it. Your curiosity was dangerous to you, he had to keep you safer than he assumed necessary, innocent, untainted little thing.

“Princess,” he takes your face between his hands, only leaving a small distance between his lips to yours, practically speaking right into your mouth. You blushed under his loving gaze. “Can I have you?”

Your breath stopped short, you were so dizzy you feared fainting from such intense emotions. Loki was all you wanted, but after this? You were terrified.

“You don't need to accept, I won't even make you watch the show. I fear it'd be too much for your pure heart to take,” he carefully fixes a singular strand of your hair to behind your ear.

“I'm not pure,” you meekly said, your eyes stinging with the weight of the truth. You've never felt dirtier, never felt more like a sinner. If punishments were deserving for those who committed atrocities, you trembled to believe you'd need them all. “I'm not pure, I deserve to suffer.”

“Don't say that,” Loki sternly commands. “Don't say that, not you. If there's a soul in this universe that deserves all the nine realms, it is you.” His words are stern but so soft, you once again feel your lips quiver at the start of another sob. You were way too emotional, everything was way too wrong.

Everything but the sensual way he was touching you.

His fingers kept a gentle caress of your back, down your spine, to reach your hips and buttocks. His breath hitched as he gritted his teeth, attempting patience, waiting for a sign that you soon granted him.

“Please…” You begged, like a poor little mouse under his tricks. He felt oh so blessed, the Norns truly must love him. He practically yanks you panties down, they hang somewhere around your calves as he starts to touch your needy cunt.

He skillfully touches your folds, your pussy clenching from the movements he's making, he slips his fingers inside your cunt to stroke that sensitive spot inside of you, curling his fingers, making you a mess.

“That's it, sweetheart, take your pleasure,” he craved those pleased whiny moans of yours, they were a treasure to his ears, you were clenching around him and lifting yourself a bit up with each thrusting of his fingers. He couldn't control his groans to himself. “Take it from me, it's yours. All yours.”

His palm circles your clit, paying extra attention to the moments you get sensitive, shivering under his hold like his precious toy, heat running down your skin. You shamelessly begin riding his palm. He kept your legs fully open now with his other hand, keeping a strong grip on your skin.

“Let me play, darling. Don't be cruel.” You didn't know if your tears came from pleasure or fear now. Your mind wasn't allowing you to focus on the seriousness of the situation, you didn't want to look at the blood, and the smell of him intoxicated you to the point you ignored the smell of iron around the place.

“Y-yes…” You mindlessly opened your legs further, making him give you the prettiest, most devilish grin your eyes could see.

“I'll treat you so well, you will enjoy being mine, princess. I'll make sure you do.” You don't hold your moaning, unafraid of the possible eyes wandering to your figure. Your nails digged his shoulders, your hips rutted against him unashamed, begging for the friction, for more of his marvelous fingers.

He helps you through your climax as you're gushing over his clothes, you're a trembling mess, coming undone for him, your entire face now very sticky with sweat and tears, the post-orgasmic bliss clouding your mind.

“Do you want to know how the show ends?” You feel goosebumps as he asks that, no, no you don't want to.

He looks down at you, bringing his fingers up as a trail of your cum sticks on the way to his mouth. You're dazed as he licks his fingers clean, keeping eye contact with you, you see a bit of blood sticking in between the act.

You wonder whose blood it is, if this is any hygienic, but you supposed being a God had its perks for these things. Your eyes squeezed tight in shame.

He makes sure to lift your face to make your eyes open again.

“No need to feel embarrassed if you like it.” Your blood boils and the heat you feel increases, how dare he? To assume you'd like being part of something so cruel?

“I don't like it.” You say coldly, not passing any of the burbling rage you feel.

He laughs a bit from your serious expression, you feel mocked. You knit your brows, you didn't know Loki could be this way.

“I love you, princess.” It's like a stab on your heart after the cruelness.

“No, you don't.” He scoops you up his arms, out of a sudden, you yelp as you're lifted, instinctively holding up around his neck.

He moves the throne magically to the center of the theater. Everything looks so hazed and spectacularly planned out.

He places you carefully down the throne, even fixing the skirt of your dress as he leaves you there.

You feel out of place, the characters that are alive have pleading eyes but none have the courage to move and run away. You begin to feel your blood boil for them too, how could they be so weak? How could you?

“My heart.” Loki calls you, you shiver because of the pet-name.

Your tears came back again, and your head now stings drastically from so much crying. If you survived, the headache you'd feel tomorrow will be painful.

Now, your fear was one thing, your anger another, even your cries as you orgasmed were angelical and he craved them like a sick bastard. But your sadness? That stung deep into his heart, ripping it like a carved knife tearing his insides out.

“Please… please don't cry, love. It's okay.” He never thought he'd beg another, he wanted to make everyone else pay. But you? You didn't deserve pain or suffering, and now you're crying because your poor heart is so sad it can't take any more of what he's made you go through.

He'd have to go a long time apologizing, your sadness was starting to cling to his bones.

“My love, look at me.” He holds your hand, kneeling by your side down the throne. Like you're the Queen and he's just a peasant, your servant, a pet.

You don't feel very royal at the moment, you don't really feel in control. If that's what he's planning on doing.

“That's my pretty girl.” As much as you're defiant and trying to keep yourself unattached, you can't help but blush at his words. They seem innocent, they seem honest. “My pretty girl, now the Queen of Asgard. Just as you deserve.” He looks down at your body and licks his lips. He'd feed you all the compliments in the world just because you deserve them.

His hands slide to your thighs and squish them under his hands. He leaves out an animalistic moan, looking up at you with so much desire clinging to his pupils.

“I've been waiting for this part the whole night.” You feel off at that, but he holds you as he hovers over your figure on the throne, quickly scrambling to get rid of his pants. Your panties have been discarded a long time ago, so the wetness is now ruining the fancy marble of the throne, your cheeks warm up at the realization.

He's pinning you against the throne with his weight, his back to the audience, covering you.

He sheaths himself inside of you, he goes in more easily than you imagined, making your eyes round as you feel him throbbing inside you, desperate to move.

He pulls out a bit and thrusts back into you at once. He has an insufferable smile covering his face, and his eyes closed in pleasure, appreciating the warmth of your cunt squeezing him in, welcoming his cock like you're made for him.

“Oh princess, I envied all the souls that had the pleasure of being near you.” He grabs your chin roughly forcing you to look into his eyes, your own eyes moist as you feel so inferior to him. “But what can they do now? What would they do now that I have you? I have you. I have you.” You pant as he bucks so deep into you, you can feel it hitting impossibly deep to the hilt.

“Y-you don't.”

“Oh?” He taunts. “Is that so, my heart? What does it look like to you?” He keeps his punishing pace into you, hands pressing down your womb where you can both feel the bump of his manhood shoving into you, balls repeatedly hitting your ass with every frantic thrusting. His sweat hitting your skin as he fucked you like a beast. “Because to me,” another harsh thrust, you moan and crave your nails on the skin of his back, legs wrapping around his waist. “It seems like I've won.”

Your eyes roll up your skull as he keeps hitting that sensitive spot, he was craving the sensation of your exploding orgasm, he craved to feel your cunt straining his cock as you milk his cock. His hand moves lower as his thrusts become more powerful, he rubs your clit. He hears your panting and moans into your ear like your sounds are a victory of its own.

You cling to him as his hips work you until your head falls backwards, the lights all on you as you spasm around him and his massive form still holding you for dear life. Loki finished with a bite down onto your neck, right next to your lifeline, biting a bruise as you felt him spilling into you.

You cling to him as you cease your rocking hips, he holds your tired legs down as he keeps himself rested inside you, calming down his breathing as your forehead touches his.

You look down and see the earlier blood smeared across your skin, you gulp, he feels your cunt clench from the sight and he gives a satisfied smile.

He coos you into his arms, embracing your form.

“I have you, princess.” He pulls out carefully and you hiss from oversensitivity. A long string of his cum coming out of you, you watch it with fascination as it runs down your thighs, moving a bit so it doesn't ruin the pristine throne. “I have you, my star.”

He conjures a knife again, and hands it to you. You watch it dazedly, the bliss really making you more fuzzy.

“Dearest,” he sweetly calls you, he's been doing that a lot, you notice. “The star needs to finish the show. The true leader. The one they're obsessed with, the true Star.”

You're limp as you take the news, you move the knife on your hands with a detached curiosity, it's clean now but you wonder for how long it's been used, and for what kind of things.

“I can't kill anyone.” You weakly say, afraid you'll disappoint, his eyes are wide but he still nods. He's quick to show you he's not disappointed.

He pats your hair and nuzzles your cheek with his face, getting your lips close to him so he can give you multiple and multiple kisses all over your face. You feel his affection like a healing balm in itself, you bathe yourself in it.

“It's okay, it doesn't need to be you.” He affirms, still passing his hands across your hair, and skin. He glanced at another actor, you hid your face again into his chest as you anticipate the cruel fate that'll obviously occur no matter what.

And it did, you heard another splash, someone else needed to die. You're shaking and your sobbing is louder than you wanted, Loki keeps you scooped onto him. He begins rocking you back and forth gently as a means to calm you down, cherishing you, babying you.

“The Star agrees for it to be the end, I presume?” He asks and you nod repeatedly. You just want it to end.

“Please… please, no more.” You beg weakly, he cradles you and coos some more, keeping you safely tucked in his arms, he starts to move around to stand up with you still clinging onto him like a koala.

“This will be all.” He gives a satisfied smile to the crowd of actors, the ones that survived shaking, trembling. Still meekly downing their heads as all actors do when a play's over. They rush to the exits, and Loki allows them.

“Shh, now.” He still asks of you as your cries are unstopping. “Please, love, it's over.”

“What will happen now?”

“I've told you, I'm the King. Nothing will happen, this play lasted for generations, it's the first opportunity I've had of making it my own. Centuries before you even dreamed to exist, but they don't dare to defy the King.” He patiently passes his hand up and down your back, holding you more to him. “We're safe. I told you. We're all safe.”

You guessed he wasn't going to refer to the dead people around you, or the ones that died in the way.

He takes a trembling you with him somewhere else, you don't know where you're going, but you don't have the bravery to peek out and see. You're still afraid to be the next.

You feel even more perverted everytime you think about death and feel his sticky cum running down your thighs, you feel even more perverted as you don't regret it.

“I'll take you to our chambers.” He says, as if it's nothing.

“Our chambers? Mine is…” He interrupts you. You check around and notice you're inside the cold castle, nobody's in sight but you and Loki.

“No…not yours, our chamber.” He recalls you. You shake your head clinging to his chest again, leaving out another sob.

“I'm sorry,” he continues, frowning now. “Do you hate me?” His voice trembles as he asks, your fists curled around his muscular chest as your mind fights to hate him, but you fear you don't. You don't want to tell him that you don't hate him. “This was more traumatic to you than I assumed it would be.”

Your eyes open as you try to look anywhere but his face, and as you peek at the floor, you see the shiny, bloody ghost face mask left on the floor. As if it's nothing now, as if nothing happened.

It gives you the chills.

“I-I, I've never had to–” You sob loudly. “Never thought I'd need to see- see people being murdered.” Your stinging eyes now struggled to keep open, you fought to breathe and to speak. He tries to calm you down and rubs over your clothed skin some more.

“My love, my heart, it's over now.”

Is it? Is it over? Was it all a huge nightmare? Your eyes squeeze shut as you wish for it to be all a giant, mean trick. But as you opened them, everything was real, and the blood, the cum, the memories, still very much present speckled across your impure skin.

“It's over.” He places you ever so gently down his giant bed, it felt heavenly, the pillows were so soft and the mattress smelled like paradise. It felt so heavenly you sighed out in relief, your bones received the touch against the bed like a treat. “It's been enough for this year, but we'll need to treasure the future performances.”

Your heart froze, of course. There were additionals.

“You don't need to worry about that now, my heart.” He pleads again, kissing you, you accept, and then pressing a gentle peck to your forehead. “For now, I'll let you relax. I'll prepare a bath for us, and I'll let you rest your divine mind into dreamland. Does this sound suitable?” He asks with a kind smile, smoothing his fingers over your wrists.

You clear your throat to say.

“Yes.”

“Perfect, my heart. As I have you, I'll take care of you. I've planned to have you as my Queen for a long time. I won't let it go to waste, I promise I'll take care of you.” He scoops you up to him again, he seemed to enjoy treating you like a princess a lot. Cradling his face next to yours. “One day you'll forgive me. But for now, for now, let me make you learn how to love me.”

Taglist: @mischief2sarawr @dangertoozmanykids101

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