The Myriad Misadventures of a Midgardian Queen-In-Training || Loki x Reader

Missing Scene - Blue

(A/N: I hope you all are safe and healthy! This missing scene is by request from an AO3 reader—"can you do a scene where he tells/shows her his jotunn heritage?"—and takes place between chapters 36 & 37. Stay tuned to the end for an exciting update on the future of this story!)

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It's somewhere around four, four-thirty in the morning, and your eyelids have never before felt quite this heavy.

You don't even remember how you ended up laying down. But you've been here a while, Loki's head just a few feet from yours, trading questions back and forth. You've been out of things to say, the past few minutes, but the resulting silence hasn't been awkward, oddly enough.

"I just thought of something."

"What?" His throat must be nearly as dry as yours, but he makes it sound nice, somehow. A low, sleepy purr, almost, more growl than rasp. It's...well, it's appealing.

Tempting, even.

You push away that last thought. "I can't believe I've never asked you this before. It says on your Wikipedia page—or it did, anyway, before I came here—I mean, I know you're not supposed to rely on Wikipedia, but—anyway, what I'm trying to ask is, um..." You give up on trying to find the right phrasing. "Can you actually turn blue?"

"That's your big question?" He sounds incredulous, but not unamused.

"Well, yeah!"

"It's a bit more than just turning blue, I'll have you know."

"Pics or it didn't happen," you challenge him. There's no response. You roll your eyes. "That's Midgardian for I won't believe you unless you show me."

Still no response.

You roll over to face him. "Look, it's fine if you don't want—holy shit."

He was right when he said it's a bit more than just turning blue. His face has been transformed into an icy mask, pale blue skin punctuated by sleek ridges on his forehead and cheeks. And his eyes, soft and sleepy and locked onto yours, are a bright, piercing red.

Oddly enough, there's nothing scary about it.

His eyes flicker away for a moment, and you realize it's to your hand—the hand that's hovering near his face, as though you were about to trace along the newly formed lines.

"Oh." Even half-asleep as you are, you feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. "Sorry, I don't know what..." You move to pull it back, only to be stopped.

Looking over, you see his hand, cold and smooth and blue, covering yours.

"Here." He brings your hand closer. Presses it against his cheek, and you feel the cool blue ridges beneath your fingertips, and your brain just about short-circuits.

He genuinely is colder to the touch this way. He already seems to run a bit on the cool side naturally, but now he feels like ice, like dry ice, the sensation waking you up a bit even as you feel the warmth leached from your skin. As you run your fingers along the newly sharpened angles of his face, you're taken aback once more by how beautiful he is.

And when he asks you in a whisper if you're frightened, his crimson eyes more vulnerable than you've ever seen them, you shake your head, and mean it.

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(A/N pt.2: Thank you all, beautiful readers, for giving your time and love to this story! As for the announcement: I've been using some of my coronacation to start work on a sequel, so keep an eye out for that—I'm hoping to post the first chapter in the next week or so. In the meantime, feel free to check out my profile and Tumblr, and be kind to yourselves in these chaotic, scary times. I love you all dearly!)