you have been visited by the seven magic dragon balls your biggest wish will be granted but only if you reblog
Couldn’t risk it.
didn’t realize they change colors. now I know o gotta wish.
THIS SHIT IS REAL I GOT THE JOB I WAS NUTS ABOUT BC I REBLOGGED THIS YESTERDAY maybe it’s a coinkidink but it okay just take the necessary steps to achieve what you’re wishing for and YOU CAN DO IT
A/N: I watched Ragnarok like a week back and now suddenly I’m caught in yet another obsession lol. Enjoy!
Tagging @whirlybirbs (because I’m obsessed with them) and @dobby-is-a-fr33-elf
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Warnings: Maybe some cuss words? Slow burn.
Summary: Turns out neither of them are good at handling their feelings.
~*~*~
For the most part Y/N can’t stand his arrogance.
Patience has never been a virtue of hers, not in the face of her enemies or an event drawn out through a couple of weeks and it always manages to show when he’s around. Strutting like he owns the place. Shoulders pulled back. Smug. A sickening thought just picturing him here, the image so vivid it’s almost tangible, and she shuts her eyes and lets out a huff of frustration.
In the training room the sound echoes off the walls. Everybody’s gone out for dinner. A mission gone well—courtesy of Rogers—and they’d settled on drinks at a nearby bar, trying to coax Y/N into joining them (maybe she would have if it wasn’t for the soreness in her muscles from a day’s work). She doesn’t mind the quiet, anyway. She’s never been one for crowds and liquor sloshing onto the toes of her boots—and she’s definitely a fan of the company.
Fucking Loki.
A menace. Standing to her feet, she tries not to let her thoughts wander, lifting her arms and stretching out the knots in her back. She pops her shoulder and lolls her neck to the sides. Bitter because she shouldn’t have to stay in, just because of the team’s charity case—after everything he’s done, Y/N can’t help but think, it’s surprising they let him through the front door.
But there he is.
In every corner of the house. Bits of him. Whether the lingering tension from an argument with his brother or his stupid socks or that damn daggers hidden among the cutler. Silence never does you any good and she wonders why she won’t just say it out loud, move past the hate-stares and the snide comments and the passive aggressive vibe she hopes he’ll pick up on. Probably has. He’s a smart boy, as much as it sickens her to admit.
“Need some help?” A voice cuts through the silence, startling her.
Wide-eyed, she whips around. The lights are dimmed. When she squints she can make out a silhouette curled against the door, and that’s when the anger she’s been trying to stifle starts to bubble back up her throat.
“What are you doing here?” She spits, eyes narrowed as he steps out of the shadow.
His eyes are dull and tried and you can tell he’s been drinking. There’s a redness in them and around the rim, and his white shirt is done down two buttons too many, pallid skin almost screaming at Y/N to look.
“Came back early. One can only spend so much time killing their liver, not to mention I had one too many gin n’ tonics.”
“Is there such a thing?”
“Apparently, if this menacing headache means anything.” Loki’s flutter shut, hand rising to his head as he settles himself down on one of the benches. Wincing, he looks up.
“What?” He prompts. “Bad dreams again?”
“None of your business.”
“Not even if I ask nicely?”
“G’night, trickster.” When her bag is packed Y/N slings it over her shoulder and makes for the door, and she can feels his gaze on her as she moves. A little too intense—a little too curious…
But she doesn’t say anything as she flicks the light off and heads to bed.
~*~*~
And this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
Give him a promise of a few months and he’ll wind it down to a couple of days; give him six weeks of New York, of time spent in a house he’s never felt welcome in—give him time, and he’ll somehow make the most of the worst, he’s always thought. But this has gone on long enough now for him to know they’re not going anywhere.
When his brother invited him to stay here it hadn’t sounded so bad.
In hindsight maybe he should have known, he thinks now, drunkenly stumbling up to his room. There were tell-tale signs. A few unspoken words, the occasional death glare from across the table when he asked her to pass him a beer. A little too obvious, but he was too optimistic—for once—to read into.
Looking back he wishes he did.
Maybe then being the same room with her would be easier; maybe then his skin wouldn’t crawl and his blood wouldn’t surge and the evil they’ve convinced him he can shutter wouldn’t rear its ugly head. But it’s been weeks now…Almost a few months…and nothing’s changed.
He still—and always will—despise her.
~*~*~*~
It’s no surprise they’re all hung over the next morning.
Y/N feels guilty for laughing. At first. Eventually the sight of the team passed out across the house is a sight too comical for anything less than stifled chuckles from across the breakfast bar, and she lets them overtake her
“It’s not funny.” Tony says, voice muffled by his hands cradling his face.
“Yeah, it’s fucking hilarious.” She smiles and it reaches her eyes. He grumbles. Nat curses under her breath as she sits up. The pitcher of juice is passed around, everybody pouring themselves a mug to ease the migraines and groaning into their cups and suddenly she’s grateful she chose to stay in.
Bucky walks in with Steve, a little less pitiful than the rest of the crew and they settle down with everyone else. Y/N flashes them a brief smile, sliding their breakfast across the table.
“Yeah,” Thor nudges his away with a scowl. “I don’t think I can stomach bacon and eggs right now.”
“You, too, sparky?”
“Apparently being on earth for so long’s made me a bit of a lightweight.”
“Sure.”
“Or you just can’t hold your liquor.”
At the sound of the voice, both of them turn their attention to the stairs.
Loki’s blank-faced when he comes down, dressed in a black button down and some pants and hair curled around his jaw. Summer casual. The colors of mischief but for some reason—as much as she hates to admit it—it suits him (to be honest, almost anything does).
When he joins them at the bar, a strained smile stretches across his face. He nods. “Morning.”
“Morning.” Y/N’s expression is just as stilted as she hands him a glass of juice. “Food’s done so you’re going to have to whip something up for yourself.”
“Oh.”
“Shh..” Tony rest his head on the counter and this time Y/N’s chuckles are anything but discrete.
“That’s fine.” When her focus is back on him, Loki shrugs and fiddles with the glass. He throws back the drink in a single sip. Exhales. “I was heading out, anyway.”
“To?” Thor cuts in. “You barely ever leave the house.”
“Times are changing, brother.”
“Or maybe it’s just you.”
“I don’t feel like explaining myself so I’ll be off now.” He glances between the two of them, gaze lingering on her for what feels eerily longer than usual, and it’s way out of character.
For all his evil, he’s anything but stupid. A while ago she was pretty sure he caught on that she didn’t want anything to do with him; haste exits as soon as he enters the room, death glares and eye contact lasting no longer than a few seconds, and she was sure it spoke volumes.
But the way he looks at her right now is anything but disdain.
It’s not a fondness, really. More like a curiosity she can’t place. He looks at her cheeks then her nose and finally settles on her eyes, and something stirs in Y/N at the bright blue orbs piercing into her.
And suddenly she’s worried that maybe he knows after all…
“What?”
“Nothing.”
A silence settles. Y/N doesn’t like the feeling. The sudden twisting her chest. The lurch of her stomach. He looks away, says something to Thor before heading out and her eyes follow him, caught in the tidal wave of her thoughts.
When he’s finally gone, she
“Did you see that?”
“It was kind of hard to miss.”
She doesn’t want to talk about it, not with Thor—not with the day ahead waiting for her with meetings and errands and a sore hamstring from a week’s work.
Instead she just nods curtly, finishing the last bits of her juice and then hurries up to get dressed.
~*~*~
New York is a lot smaller than he remembers.
Maybe it’s just the traffic and streets crammed with people like there’s no room for them all in the whole state, or maybe it’s the Asgardian in him, so used to vast woodlands and glory and space (quite literally) that finds moving through Manhattan tedious.
He finds himself in the center of town, hurrying to the café a few blocks away from the train station through the waves of people crashing against him. God or not, he’s trying his best to adapt to the way of the world. Fitting himself in humanly situations, blending into the canvas of New York by taking a cab or using the train. It started off strange but a few weeks down the road and he likes to think he’s adapting, maneuvering through the masses until he gets to the front of the building.
“Just coffee?” The Barista asks him at the counter, beaming and a little too eager for someone working behind the counter. The café is ambient and warm compared to the harsh streets. A few buttons popped and he can feel the air tuck itself into his coat, warming what the wind outside chilled.
Loki smiles softly.“Just coffee, thank you.”
“Don’t have a sweet tooth? We’ve got muffins, some scones, cupcakes…”
“I’m fine, really.”
“You’re sure?”
A sigh of frustration leaves him, eyes fluttering shut as he tames the anger rising in him. The barista—Becca, her nametag reads—is unyielding. Most people are, he’s learnt. It’s something he’s trying to work his way around, letting out the breath constrained in his chest.
“I’ll have a muffin.” His voice is thin as he forces a smile. “Just one, alright? Nothing more.”
Becca’s smile stretches wider. “Coming right up.”
Loki waits impatiently. The café starts to fill, phantom faces lining up at the counter, people he’s sure are regulars but has never taken the time to memorize. In a city this big it’s easy to forget even the commonest of faces. Grinning, Becca hands him the bag and he avoids her gaze, fishing his money from his pocket and pivoting to leave.
But the bell on the door goes off.
And it takes a second for him to realize who’s just walked in, smiling and rosy-cheeked as she makes her way up to the counter. He can feel his muscles still, a nervousness beginning to stir in him. Loki looks to the side, an empty table at the far end of the room beckoning him. He keeps his gaze to the floor as he moves.
The window overlooks the bustling streets and he perches himself down, keeping his back to Y/N in hopes that she won’t recognize him from where she stands at the cashier, chatting with Becca. An urge to glance over his shoulder sparks in him, but he contains himself, shutting his eyes with a labored breath. Maybe it’s cowardly. At this point he doesn’t care. The blood in his veins grows warmer and angrier as it climbs up to his cheeks and his thoughts tangle. He’d left the house specifically to avoid her, and now here they are: cat and mouse caged together yet again, swollen with too much pride to just put aside the animosity.
It’s not like he hasn’t tried.
Careful smiles and gentle words and enough of an effort to make anyone normal see that he wants a truce. But Y/N? Stubborn. And chaotic. And leaving, he realizes, at the sound of her thanking Becca and turning for the exit…
Loki’s breath catches in his throat and he watches her from the corner of his eye. Natasha tells Y/N something that makes her roll her eyes. The relief begins to surface once they get closer to the door—but it’s extinguished when they make a sharp turn for one of the empty tables by the entrance.
~*~
“…maybe he has something on his mind. The weasel’s always scheming, you know that?”
“Is that supposed to be a comfort?”
“It’s an answer. Quit overthinking things.”
Y/N wishes it was that easy. For Natasha, strong-wielded and headstrong and cobalt mixed fire and ash, words are just words; anything can be swept aside without in impact, and sometimes Y/N wishes could see life through her friend’s lens.
She’s nothing like Nat; for the past hour she’s been stuck on breakfast and the knot sinking itself further into her stomach. They figured that getting something to eat would have eased the whole situation, but Y/N’s too stubborn and obsessive to let this one slide, even over some coffee and freshly baked croissants.
“He’s killed more people than I’ve saved.” Y/N says, stirring the sugar in her drink. “And that’s just on earth.”
“You think he’s still wanted on Asgard?”
She shrugs and the spoon clanks against her dish as she sets it down. “Could have been. It’s just…it’s weird. I don’t like the vibe he gives off, you know that.” She says. “Why would he even put me in such a place? I mean, I know we don’t get along, but this—“
“You’re doing this to yourself, sweetie.”
“The way he looked at me, Nat…It was…like…”The words feel clumsy and blunt falling from her lips, eyes cast down at her cup to keep from making this anymore uncomfortable. Loki has always been a pest. For as long as Y/N can remember. For as long as she’ll know him, she knows this. One look at her that isn’t marred by spite and suddenly, what? He’s her friend? It’s tiring running through this train of thought all over again but it’s the closest thing to closure she’ll get.
“Just shut up and drink your coffee. It’s getting cold.” Nat tells her, only half-teasing.
Y/N finally looks up at her, and then sighs. The cup is tepid in her palm as she lifts it to her lips and sips.
“There you go.” The red-head’s lip curl into a smile as the tension at the table dissolves. They’re on a day off, Y/N reminds herself. They talk of home and Banner and anything and everything that two girls talk about over coffee, and soon enough the thought of Loki is a thing of the past.
Or at least she thought it was. Until she sees him.
Across the room, shrouded away from the rest of the world at his own table. She catches him mid-stare, and the god’s eyebrows both lift in shock. Natasha’s still going on about her and Maria’s trip up state, but Y/N drowns her out.
“You’re kidding me.”
“What?” Nat turns her head to look. Y/N doesn’t wait for her.
The chair scrapes against the wooden floor as she stands, crossing the room in three long strides, jaw set and the knot growing tauter and tauter in her chest. She feels like she might explode.
Loki’s eyes watch her, unwavering as she settles in the seat across from him. A drained cup of coffee and muffin sit on the table and she wonders how long he’s been here.
His eyebrows arch and a gentle, proud smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Enjoying your lunch?”
“Tell me why you’re here, Weasel.”
Y/N’s voice is clipped and she’s battling to contain her nerves.
“Am I not allowed to roam New York freely?” Loki asks, tipping his head to the side. He leans back in his seat. “Last I checked I’m no longer in chains in Stark’s dungeon.”
“Last I checked you don’t have coffee and cupcakes at café’s in queens.”
“I reiterate from earlier: people change.”
“Cut the crap, Loki.”
“Well this is a surprise.” Natasha’s voice draws Y/N out of her thoughts and she casts a brief glance to the side. Arms crossed over her chest and glancing between the two of them, she looks just as confused as Y/N. She can’t blame her. It’s taking all Y/N has not to wring Loki’s neck from across the table and he’s barely even had time to explain himself (not that she’ll buy any of the bullshit he’s selling).
The café doesn’t feel like a fit place for a brawl, so Y/N takes Loki’s hand in hers, surprisingly warm an calloused and leads him out into the humming streets outside.
He trails behind her like a child until they’re outside. Her hand leaves his wrist as she turns around, face drawn so tight you’d think it would snap in half. Patience. Never a virtue of hers.
People don’t stop for them, jostling into their sides as they squeeze through. “Explain.”
“Why we’re out in the middle of the street?” un-amused, Loki’s brows arch. “I presume it’s because your neuroticism is acting up.”
“Look, it’s my job to keep you in line since you got here, I’m allowed to be a bit antsy when I find you following us around town or lurking in corners.” Y/N doesn’t want an argument, not here at least. The knot basins deeper into her chest, reminding of the morning and of cerulean eyes and a warmth she shouldn’t feel. A passerby bumps into her before continuing on their way.
Loki bites his lip in silence. She figures he’s conjuring up some excuse by the way he looks around, distracted, but it’s really the conviction of being honest for once.
“I came out to see a girl.” He answers, finally meeting her gaze.
So simply.
The words fall from his lips easily, not clumsy and jagged—not anything Y/N was expecting. It takes a moment for the thought to register. She gapes at him for a few seconds then swallows.
. “A…?”
“Girl. Yes. Pitiful, isn’t it? For so long I’ve prided myself on being resistant to you humans affections and charm—seems it could only last so long, huh?” Loki finishes for her with his usual nonchalance.
“You…” Her lips part softly as the words settle, then her eyes grow wide. “Oh…Oh, shit, I’m sorry—Loki, this was a mistake, I thought—”
“That I was scheming? I can’t say I blame you. Anyhow, it doesn’t matter—poor thing didn’t show.”
A silence drifts over them as they stand there. Y/N fiddles with the spoon in her hand. A former weapon she figured she’d find a use for but now it just feels foolish wielding it, and she tucks it into the pocket of her jacket.
She folds her hands over her chest and meets Loki’s gaze. The air has turned from fire to a dimmed silence, awkward and stunted and it’s hard to tell where to go from here. She dragged him out with intent of battle and this is what she’s met with? A surrender? An explanation that sounds earnest?
“I really hope you’re not lying.”
“Why would I.”
Y/N nods wordlessly, ignoring the question. “So she stood you up?”
“It’s been forty minutes now.” He shrugs. “I don’t think a train from Brooklyn to queens takes you that long”
“Right.” She doesn’t know what more to say. Apologize? Ask about this mystery woman she’s only learning about now? It’s not like Loki would share anything past a snarky comment or a question on what’s for dinner. It’s not unusual that she didn’t know.
But, for some reason, it feels like a betrayal holding out on sharing.
Only she can’t say that—not out loud. Not out here. Someone bumps into her, reminding that they’re standing in the middle of the walkway and she casts her eyes back up at the Trickster.
“Uhm.” She’s disoriented being been pulled from her thoughts like that, but Y/N quickly recovers, straightening out. She clears her throat. “Nat’s waiting.”
Loki doesn’t give her time to add anything on, as he pivots around and marches inside.
Natasha stands when they enter and they hurry to collect their things, Loki grabbing a small paper bag from behind his seat.He waits until they’re outside to nudge her arm.
“I’m assuming you’re going to say no because it’s you, but here.” He hands it to her.
Y/N takes it reluctantly, glancing inside. There’s a cupcake like the one he was eating, bright pink and flecked with sprinkles and she almost laughs at the sight (so uncharacteristic for the devil himself).
“Are you sure it’s not poisoned?” She looks up at him and there’s a glint in his eyes that’s part mischief and part amusement. They’re definitely not friends, but something sparks and she raises her brows, waiting for an answer.
Loki’s lips quirk. “Not today, no.” He says. She almost laughs. They find the car at the edge of the street, Nat ripping off the ticket fixed on the windshield like it was never there to begin with.
Rounding the car, Y/N turns to Loki one last time, the weight in her chest lifting long enough for her to offer him an apologetic smile.
“I still don’t like you,” She begins, “But I’m sorry about you and mystery woman. I know how much that can suck.”
“You’re telling me you’ve been through the same?”
“I’m telling you that rejection is something everybody hates.” She admits. “Gods inclusive. Find a ride home and don’t get into more trouble than you already have, yeah?”
“No promises, Agent.”
She flashes him a brief smirk, before ducking down into the car, the engine roaring to life. She straps herself and glimpses out the window. On the sidewalk Loki peers into the car with a subtle crease between his brows like he’s thinking, holding something back. Curious. She wasn’t lying when she said she felt for him—she knows rejection well enough she’d be able to trace it way before it has the time to detonate.
She knows that much.
~*~*~*~
I’ve never written for anyone in Marvel other than Peter Maximoff, so this is me sort of dipping my toe into the water? Let me know what you think? Double spacing, no double spacing? Any other input? I’m open to feedback of any kind.
But if this was a good read, then reblog, like and/or follow to keep updated when I upload part 2. My inbox is also open for anyone who wants to be tagged or send in requests.
Happy Valentines day :) xX
I would like to be tagged in part 2!
