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shewritesoccasionally · 5 years

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Tell His Story - Part 7

Pairing: Loki x Female!Reader

Summary: When Peter Parker comes to [Y/N] asking for the story of how she went from Asgard to a tea shop in Manhattan, she uses it as an opportunity to tell a story of love, lose, and a Prince who is not what Midgard believes him to be.

Author Notes: SOOOOOO.... That was a much longer delay than expected. To those who stuck around through that, Thank you and I’m sorry. Side note, there will be last chapter after this one. Thank you to those of you who like, reblog, and follow!

Peter had sat himself on the couch, curled into a patch of sunshine like a cat. Outside, the chilled wind tore through the streets, but inside the sun could warm your bones. A few of the late lunch patrons sat amongst their discarded coats and gloves but no one seemed to need anything, so I settled beside the sunning hero.

“I didn't know the real details of New York until I was here.”

“Thor didn't tell you?”

“Not really. It all happened so fast. My rescue.” I smiled. “Frigga came and told me to be ready, that I'd be taken somewhere safe.”

“Lady [Y/N].” Thor's usually booming voice called out so soft and tired I didn't think it was real. “It's time to get you out of here, I think.” As he approached the glass of my cell his eyes showed how tired he truly was.

“What has happened?” I asked, pulling myself up on weak legs.

“We must move quickly.” He opened the door and the cell was flooded with fresh cool air, causing me to shiver.

“Thor?” I could see the secret he was trying to hide behind his eyes.

“Loki is alive.” He answered, putting his arm around my shoulders to guide and steady me, and then leading me towards the stairs. My mind went white at his words. I couldn't think, couldn't process. His sentences echoed off the walls of my empty head, drowning any other thoughts. We moved forward and I fought to catch up with my body.

“Where is he?” I stuttered out finally.

“Here. Preparing to stand trial for war crimes against Midgard.” My head swam as Thor lead me through the familiar halls.

“I need to see him.”

“I am sorry, [Y/N], but we must get you to safety.”

“Safety. How am I not safe? Loki... Loki is here. He will -”

“Please listen,” Thor stopped us and tucked us out of sight into an alcove in the hall. The sunlight shone on the stone and I let my eyes focus on it, seeing it for the first time in so long. But Thor shook me firmly, drawing my eyes back to his. “Loki waged another's war on Midgard. Someone much more powerful than him arranged it from what I've discovered. I don't know if it was through torture, or manipulation, or if Loki is just that far gone.” I swallowed the growing lump in my throat.

“He will be punished. But at this point there seems only one way to punish him...”

“I don't-” My brain felt like it was waking up from a deep sleep and the world around me was finally snapping into focus. Thor's soft eyes bore into mine and the world settled around me. “Me.”

“He asked me about you, when I brought him home. When I told him you'd been punished for his crimes he became enraged.”

“Odin will punish him by punishing me further.” Thor nodded. “Does he deserve it?”

“I do not believe he was acting on his own. Possibly only out of self-preservation. More importantly, you do not deserve it.” I thought quickly over the possibilities. My longing to see my beloved despite my anger, my fear of what he'd done, and my own fear of what Odin would do to us both.

“Where am I to go?” I answered through the weight on my chest.

“I will take you to my friends on Midgard.” He answered, already pulling me toward the Bifrost.

“The place where my husband, your brother, just waged war?” I answered incredulously.

“They do not need to know he is your husband.”

“They deserve to, do they not?”

“I am done having you judged for his crimes.” Thor snapped, guilt in his eyes.

“And then he brought me here.” I sighed, glancing out the window at the passersby as they clutched their coats to themselves.

“To Mr. Stark?” He asked and I nodded.

“I had never been to Midgard, so I didn't know what to expect but as we landed on the roof of the Avengers tower, all I could see was destruction.” Peter had a look of understanding, he had seen that destruction in person and on the news. It was historic. “I realized then exactly how unwelcome I was going to be.”

“Stark!” Thor called through the empty rooms, he's voice echoing through the halls. There were plastic sheets hanging from the ceilings to cover holes in the glass and walls and they fluttered in the wind. The floor of the room was smashed in and uneven as Thor lead me across the room. “Stark!” He called again.

“Shouldn't you be overseeing a trial, Point Break?” A dark haired man entered the room from one end, looking as tired as Thor but wearing a stiff smile. Behind him, a beautiful woman with red hair and another dark haired man walked tentatively. As they entered, I tucked myself behind Thor's large form, gripping the edge of my dress to keep my hands steady.

“Shortly. I need a favor.” Thor said, moving to the side and exposing me. “My friend needs a safe place to stay. Can you help?”

I could feel the groups eyes on me and I became increasing aware of my dirty skin, matted hair, and filthy clothes. My hands itched to move up and straighten my hair but I forced them to grip the dress tighter, trying to keep my whole body from shaking.

“This is not a daycare center.”

“I understand that, but she has no where to go.”

“Why?” My ears began to ring and I could feel the woman's gentle eyes pressing into me while Stark and Thor bickered. The sound of their voices was lost in the ringing until it was so loud that I thought my head would split in half and I knew I had to make it stop.

“I'm seeking refuge from King Odin's judgment.” I blurted out, feeling my mouth move as the ringing stopped abruptly with my words.

“The last Asgardian criminal to come here nearly blew it up. And you want us to take another one?”

“She has been wrongly imprisoned and I'm trying to make it right.”

“Imprisoned for what?” The soft voice of the other man called out.

“I am [Y/N], wife of Loki.” I said, my voice strong as I straightened my shoulders. “I have been imprisoned in his place for his treason.”

“Get her out of here.” Stark said firmly, placing himself between the woman and myself.

“Stark, please.” Thor breathed out.

“Prince Thor, we both knew this was not the right choice. Take me back to Asgard and I will face the King.”

“What she said.” Stark called, sounding more agitated. And then Thor was yelling, and the other men were yelling and the woman just watched me. Tears slid down my cheeks and I curled into myself, all my previous strength drained out as the fear returned and gripped my throat closed. And then there was a hand on my arm.

“Are you innocent?” It was the woman, she was speaking quietly, as if to an injured animal. The men had stopped yelling and Stark was tensely watching the exchange, fists clenched. I didn't answer.

“She was a servant in our kitchens, fell in love with and married my brother, and was then punished for his treason. She has spent the last 11 months imprisoned. She did no crime, and my father will use her to punish Loki. She cannot stay on Asgard.” Thor said softly, looking only at the red haired woman. “Please.”

“Tony.” She said, looking at him firmly.

“This is a terrible idea.” Stark said finally.

Peter looked upset, brow furrowed and hands clenched around the mug of tea.

“Deep breathes.” I said, laughing under my breath.

“Mr. Stark was so mean.”

“No, he was justified. Loki had just enacted a terrible attack. People had died and more had suffered. Stark himself had been dealing with the aftermath. He was afraid, I believe.” I turned back to the window and went back to watching the crowd.

“I owe quite a bit to Pepper. She convinced him to let me stay, took me to a room downstairs where I could take a shower and found me some Stark Industries sweats in the lab that I could wear.”

I stood in the tile washroom, warm wet area filled the room from my bathing. My hair was de-tangled and clean, my skin felt a bit raw from my scrubbing at the grime. The thick, soft long sleeve shirt and pants the woman had provided were rubbing gently on my tender skin. In my hands, I held my dress. The only dress I'd had for so many years. It was covered in filth. Patched and fixed in some areas and yet frayed and torn in others. I had dreamed of the day I would have something nicer to wear. And now I struggled to put the garment in the garbage. My fingers gripped the fabric as they always had when I had been trying to keep calm. I hated it and yet it felt like part of me. I knock on the door was the only thing that could draw me from my thoughts.

“[Y/N],” The woman called. “Doing alright in there?”

“Yes. I am well.” I called back and dropped the dress in the bin beside the counter. I opened the door and felt the rush of cool air as the steam escape. “I apologize for how long I took.”

“You're fine, don't worry.” she smiled. “Can I show you to your room?” I nodded and she led the way down the hall.

We walked in silence for awhile before she turned and smiled at me.

“My name is Pepper, you can let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Lady Pepper.” I gave a half bow and she looked uncomfortable.

“Just Pepper, is fine.” She responded as she opened a door on her left. “You'll be staying in here.”

The room was larger than I was used to by 3 times, a large bed in the center of one wall and a black rectangle opposite it. There as a desk and chair, a dresser, and a wall that was entirely windows.

“I'll come by later to show you to the kitchen.” I nodded softly and Pepper moved to the black rectangle.

“Would you like the TV on?” She asked and I furrowed my brows at her. With a sigh she pushed a button the rectangle and the center lit up with color and images. The sound of talking filled the room, as well as laughing. Pepper handed me another black contraption and showed me different buttons to push and then left. I sat on the floor in front of the box and pushed the various buttons to see what would happen, the image shifted and changed over and over until I stopped suddenly at the sight in front of me. It was Loki, the image was shaky and blurred but it was him, full regalia, flying on a Chitari craft as the city behind him was on fire. Another shaky image of Thor and a man in blue and red fighting beside each other, to another of a metal man flying through the streets. My eyes filled with tears once again as I realized I was watching a recounting of what Loki had done.

“Over time, I started to figure out the TV and the other midgardian things I had never seen before. Pepper was very helpful, she got me clothes and tried to explain the city to me.” Peter watched me intently as I explained. “Tony started talking to me eventually, although we have never really gotten along.” I sighed.

“Eventually, Pepper felt that I should get a place of my own, something I had never had. Stark Industries purchased this shop, with the apartment above it, and donated it to me. Pepper even helped me decorate it. I was allowed to stay here as long as I understood that I would receive regular checkups from the Avengers or Shield. I know that's why you've been coming by Peter.”

“What! No. Okay, yes. At first.” Peter fumbled. “But I like being here. You make good tea and I like hearing about your life.” I laughed as he threw his hands out and tried to placate me.

“If you say so.”

“Can I ask, how long have you been here on Earth?”

“5 years.” I said, letting my mind wander to my home. “Thor comes to see me occasionally. He came to tell me that Loki had been imprisoned as I had been. He told me that He had told Odin and Loki that I had escaped to the Asgardian countryside. And he came to tell me that Frigga and Loki had died in the Dark Elf attack.”

“He's dead...” Peter breathed out.

“Thor said he gave his life bravely in the fight. I have mourned him a second time. At least he managed to redeem himself before he was lost. I know he had good in him. No monster could have given me the love and happiness that he did.” Peter put his hand on shoulder tentatively. “And that is the story of how I came to be on Earth.”

@zeddlocket

@starscreamloki

@arnoldanus

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@villainsaremorerelatable

@tiffy119

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#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki fanfic #marvel #female reader #fanfic #completed fanfic #mcu

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dentelle-grise · 7 years

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Your Latest Trick

Chapter 15 (Loki x Reader) Long after everyone has stopped talking about Loki and his misdemeanors, his failed attempt to take over Midgard and his punishment, you meet him at a party. A tale in which Loki woos the reader despite life imprisonment, mortal wounding and the cumbersome pretense of impersonating his father. Covering the events of ‘The Dark World’ and beyond Original Prompt: Imagine Loki undressing you slowly, entirely by magic, only touching you with his eyes. All chapters to date at AO3 (39K, NC-17) Tagging: @frenchfrostpudding Chapter 15 A session at the training grounds reveals rivalries old and new.

You manage to help the healers later that morning without being distracted, the events of the night dropping beneath the surface of the day.

The kind of injuries you’re seeing these days are from the work sites or training grounds. It’s a comforting evolution. You know you are doing good by the simple tasks you do and by being there for the patients. It saves the healers’ time that you do the jobs that don’t need special powers and you wonder if what you do is what healers do in realms without magic.

They never question what you are doing here, a woman with to healing gifts and such means that she doesn’t need a job — they are just happy that you come. The one time you apologized to Madame Eir for not having any magic, she told you there was no problem, that you had something else.

It’s on your break that Loki finds his way back into your thoughts. Fantasies were distracting enough, but recent memories, vivid, flawless and unbidden are much more powerful. You kept your mind away from them as you worked, but standing alone in the wash room, the midday sun filtering down on you through a skylight, you think of the light on his skin this very morning and it all comes flooding back — the warmth of affection, all the sense memories of his hands on you and the way his voice deepened when you make love….You feel a flush of heat flood through you and try to push the thoughts away before someone else comes in here. But the burning dies away quickly enough all by itself as doubt rises and fills you instead; Loki said nothing about when he’d return.

It’s a warm afternoon and the training grounds are already full of people by the time you get there. You can’t see Asta anywhere, despite a promise she made to meet you here. All around, people of all ages train to fight in all manner of ways, wrestling, fencing, kick-fighting, swords, spears, staffs… The dust clings to everyone’s clothes until people start to look alike. So you wander around, hoping to find Asta and trying to decide which discipline to work on. You want to fill the hours before dusk with something other than waiting and wondering.

Martial arts are not really Asta’s style and you wonder if she’s bottled out. There are plenty of familiar faces here though. Hogun is giving a demonstration of club-swinging and Volstagg is standing in the wrestling area challenging people to try to knock him down, while a trainer is showing them how to fall safely.

There are people with practice swords and spears in pairs and groups everywhere, the weapons glowing, marking the advantage of one or other opponent.

“Hey.” A familiar voice calls. It’s not Asta, but Fandral. He clearly just got here because he’s dust free. “You’re looking good,” he says. “I mean it’s good to see you looking better.” And then he grins and it’s a relief. “So, have you come to make a killing.”

You don’t know what to say so you laugh.

“I’m meeting a friend.”

“Ah-ha.”

“No not 'Ah-ha’, we’re going to train” He raises an eyebrow.

“Me to. Actually I’m going to try my hand at knife throwing.”

“Oh?”

“Well you know me, always hungry for new experiences.” And he winks. “Truth be told its something I need to work on it, and we have to give the example. And what weapon do you chose?” You can tell he still thinks you’ve come here on the pull. “Tempted by the big stick?” And he nods at the quarterstaff area and you blush. “I’ll be giving a sword demonstration later, don’t miss it. Ciao.”

And he’s gone.

At least there wasn’t a trace of the worry he’s shown in recent weeks and thankfully he didn’t mention Loki. You don’t want him prying, not now.

Fandral had never showed interest in knives in the past, that was Loki’s area of expertise. For one as good with a sword as Fandral, it was easy to neglect other disciplines. Throughout their youth, Fandral excelled at sword fighting while Loki was always behind him.

You remember the time Loki charmed a sword to practice with him on its own. That way he could work on his swordsmanship at all hours with no need to find a partner. Why this was so important you never knew.

The trouble with the enchanted sword was that its skills were only equal to Loki’s, and it was just as unpredictable. He received several nasty gashes before he realized that this wasn’t the answer, but by then the sword had learnt how to do more than fight. Loki tried to undo the spell, but the sword got wise to his plan and went into hiding. It had all his cunning too and an insatiable need to play, so when it went feral, it was almost impossible to control. It roamed the corridors and grounds of the palace by day and night, jumping out and randomly challenging passersby, whether they be guards, chambermaids or the King himself. Though some warriors saw this as a challenge and tried to hunt the sword down, their quests were fruitless. It was only when it took the entire palace kitchen staff hostage that Frigga stepped in once more and canceled the spell.

Goaded by Fandral you do indeed go to train at stick fighting. You’d forgotten how heavy the staffs were, and how jarring the hitting and blocking was. The coach matches you with someone of the same size and weight, something you’d be lucky to get in a real fight, but this is for practice, for play, for fun almost… if it wasn’t so hard, if you weren’t watching every second for the blow that might land you in the healing rooms for all the wrong reasons. You know so much more about bodies now, which means you could play dirty if you wanted, but that’s not your way. You win squarely by knocking the staff from your opponent’s hands as she’s changing grip. There’s a rest period just long enough to get your breath back and change partners for another bout. This time the pairing is anything but equal: you’re facing Lady Sif.

She greets you enthusiastically, smiling, confident, deadly, beautiful — she should really leave her hair like that — but you’ve no time for such observations nor smalltalk, you have to block her attacks, which are quick and forceful and remind you of all your weaknesses. You are neither as rapid nor as strong. You cannot truly fight her at all, only defend yourself. Sif is not Asta, and this is not fun. You’re outmatched and Sif knows it. Why is she facing you at all? She doesn’t give you any time to ponder such things, her parries multiply and her blows rain down on your staff. But even so she is not at full strength, she’s going easy on you. It’s frustrating being shown your powerlessness like this. You both have your staffs horizontal now and you field blow after blow. Your only possible advantage is your stamina if you can only resist long enough.

Then she throws all her weight behind one strike, so you do too. But she doesn’t rebound, she just keeps pushing. She’s there in your face, smiling still, baring her teeth, forcing her staff against yours, close enough that you smell her sweat. It reminds you, that despite her performance she is a still a person and not a fighting machine. It’s no crime to lose against the best, but here it’s not a case of losing, more one of surviving and limiting injury.

She lets go with a sudden “Gah.”

You fall forward and almost miss your footing and she’s quick to swing the staff back into a fencing position. She could have had you, in a real fight your adversary would have moved in quick for a blow to the head, but Sif waits, holding her staff in position, she wants to continue. She looks you in the eye, her full concentration on you and you alone. She nods and the fight continues. You’re tired and you can tell she is too. Now it’s a matter of who makes a mistake first and you don’t have long to wait. She is distracted a moment by something over your shoulder, you don’t look around, you push home your advantage, hitting her staff sideways to loosen her grip, but then she turns back to you and goes all out to finish the bout, no longer holding back, but pushing you back with multiple strokes that set you off balance, Then she slams down her staff just where it will trip you. You tumble, dropping your staff and grabbing fruitlessly at hers. The fight comes to its inevitable conclusion — you in the dirt with her staff your face her smile above it. You look down at yourself, you’re covered in dirt and sweat, your butt aches where you fell on your tailbone. Then you look up at her once more but she’s looking away over your shoulder.

“I yield.” you say to get her attention

You could grab her staff by the end and continue the fight, but you’ve nothing more to give. Not only are you no match for her, but she’s lost interest. She helps you up, tells you you’re better than she thought, which is kind of arrogant but doubtless honest. She’s distracted though. You glance over in the direction she’s looking, toward the sword fighting area.

Many others nearby have also stopped to look, a particular fighting pair are the subject of everyone’s interest. Fandral and… Odin!

“What?”

They have practice swords, which is just as well as they are really going for it, the ‘blades’ clashing together this way and that.

Sif rolls her eyes. “He’s going to get his ass handed to him.” She can only mean Fandral. She wouldn’t talk that way about the King. For you, the outcome isn’t nearly so sure.

Fandral has always been a joy to watch sword fighting. It’s one of the reasons women flock to him. They like a good show. But Odin…You have never seen him fight with a sword. Could it be he’s doing the same as Fandral earlier and playing his weak suit deliberately? That’s a tremendous thing to do — for a King to show weakness before the people — and against Fandral of all fighters…

Perhaps Sif is right, and Odin excels at sword fighting as in many other things. But it would surprise you. It looks on many levels as though Fandral has the advantage, it’s his weapon of choice whereas Odin doesn’t use usually use a sword. He doesn’t need one, he has Gungrir, which could out do any weapon. Yet there he is.

With only one eye, Odin’s judgement of distance must be lessened and he is an older man, you would expect him to be slower. But that is where you are wrong. Odin throws his body around like someone much younger, he dodges, he feints and it’s as though he has not just two eyes but perhaps more. It is only the sword itself that seems to be his handicap. The points he scores on Fandral are mostly because he is so unpredictable.

You can tell from Fandral’s face — they have decided not to wear protective masks, the fools — that he is impressed, it can’t be often someone surprises him.

“He’s teaching him a lesson.” Sif breathes. And you feel fear in her voice. They both defied Odin when they helped Thor. And though it was for the good in the end, she thinks this may be Odin’s way of showing his supremacy. Or attempting to… Odin loses a volley of points to Fandral as the latter marks a touch to his chestplate.

There are murmurs and cries from the crowd each time one of them scores a point over the other, but the people carefully do not cheer for either of one of them in particular. You find yourself — ridiculously — afraid for Odin. Afraid he will be humiliated because you don’t doubt that Fandral is the stronger of the two.

You’ve moved closer without noticing yourselves doing it. The crowd is denser and all are focused on the fight. Behind the fencing ring, you catch sight of Asta, immaculate right down to her spotless shoes and by her, your mother.

Watching Fandral, you can see, without the slightest pinch of pain all that once attracted you to him and you hear, in the intakes of breath and gasps from beside you, how much Sif is with him. You know she’s not be alone in that admiration. But as for you, you are watching and, yes, even rooting for Odin in this match. Despite his extra years and experience it is he the underdog.

Why is he doing this? You don’t believe its to teach a lesson. You think it’s to encourage the people, to show bravery and be ready to lose face, for Odin will surely lose.

The fighters circle one another, watching, ready for the other to move, it’s a respite. The silence is only broken by Odin’s labored breathing. Their movements accelerate. You’ve watched Fandral so many times that you know that he is about to move…right…now.

Seemingly at the same second Odin leans in the opposite direction, looses his balance and actually falls, the crowd gasp, a look if terror crosses Fandral’s features, this was obviously not the move he’d been intending. Moreover, as he hits the ground, Odin loses his grip on his sword which flies up in the air and Fandral, as would be expected in a true fight steps forward to hold him at his mercy with the tip of his sword. But, with the speed of his fall giving him impetus, Odin rolls. He catches the sword in his other hand, jumps to his feet and with a twisting movement pries Fandral’s weapon out of his hand.

The reversal of roles happens so quickly it’s a shock. The crowd stare silence, hardly believing what they just saw or what they’re seeing; the King, panting in a manner most unbecoming of a monarch, with Fandral disarmed and confused standing before him. It takes people a second or two to register and then the cheering starts. Fandral sheepishly raises both hands in front of him, then kneels and salutes Odin. Your mother runs forward and raises Odin’s arm in the air and there’s even more cheering.

You put a hand to your face “Mother, No.” you hiss to yourself. “Don’t be so embarrassing.” Sif hears you and smiles, her relief at the bloodless outcome tangible on her face.

The evening is comes bringing with it anticipation and doubt but not Loki. You’d effectively blocked him from your thoughts for a few hours, but now he’s back with a vengeance. You are weary and aching, especially your butt where you fell it, but you stay up, waiting.

When it gets late and Loki still isn’t there you decide to wait in bed. Your muscles ache from the fight and behind it is the echo of this morning, last night - and the night before that. You haven’t had so much exercise in a long time.

You are barely aware and far closer to sleep than any other desire when a familiar shape slides under the sheets behind you, already comfortably warm — because he can do that can’t he. You relax into him and without a word sink into sleep.

Chapter 16

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #imagine loki #mcu #the dark world #your latest trick

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