Loki Laufeyson x Reader One Shots CLOSED

Long Cold Lonely Nights

Long, Cold, Lonely Nights - Loki Laufeyson
A/N: Post-Thor and Avengers, pre-Thor 2, so Loki is still a "bad guy."

You awake around eleven in the morning, definitely before noon, but not as early as you would waken if you were in a happier mindset.
Truth be told, you've been rather depressed, lazily moving through the day, keeping to yourself and your misery. Thor calls you every now and again, trying to lift your spirits, but knowing that he was part of the event that caused your misery makes it hard for you to hold a conversation with him without bursting into tears or cursing him out.
Six months. It's been six months since Loki, the love of your life, was escorted back to Asgard, his hands in shackles and his jaw bound by a horrible metal muzzle. Six months since you had even seen his face or heard his voice, much less been in his arms. Six months without a tiny scrap of communication, nothing to tell you that he's alive and well, or even if he's dead. Nothing at all.
So you keep to yourself. You're not filthy or gross - you shower regularly and wear fresh clothes, keep up with the chores and the dishes, cook yourself healthy meals (except for those moments where you wallow in self-pity and require as much sugar as your budget will allow). You just aren't in a happy mood on a regular basis, and you don't speak to many people due to your current depression.
You pull yourself out of bed and stretch your arms above your head, arching your back. You pull open the doors of your closet and scan your eyes across your wardrobe, selecting a tight (favorite color) tank top with (favorite pattern) lounge pants. You then turn to your dresser and pull out your favorite bra and pantie set. The bathroom sits across the hall from your bedroom, and you saunter over and close the door behind you. You set your clothes on the counter and turn on the water, letting it heat up before flipping the switch to turn on the shower. You get in as soon as it's hot, letting the steaming water warm you and your sadness. You let out a long sigh, simply standing under the waterfall, enjoying its comfort.
You soon exit your self-induced sauna and wipe the steam off of the mirror. For a second, you swear you saw your lost love behind you and let out a gasp. Turning around, your heart falls as you realize it was only his favorite gold and green towel hanging upon the rack. You sigh and turn back to the mirror, drying yourself off and dressing in your favorite comfortable clothes. You drop your previous clothes in the laundry hamper on your bedroom before making your way to your small but comfortable kitchen to fix yourself some breakfast.
Feeling a sweet craving, you dig out your cook book and thumb through the pages until you find the pancake recipe. Offering yourself a contented sigh at making your favorite breakfast, you fetch the necessary ingredients and a large mixing bowl and begin the process. Once the batter is mixed, you fish a frying pan from the drawer beneath the stove and heat it up, awaiting the pancake mix.
Fifteen minutes later, you've cooked all the batter and have set the dirty dishes in the sink to be washed later. You set two pancakes on a plate and drown them in (favorite topping). You pour yourself a glass of milk and carry that and your pancakes to the adjoining living room. You set your breakfast on the small wooden coffee table and grab the remote, switching on the TV. Your favorite show is currently playing, so you leave it on that channel and dig into your breakfast. You're still hungry after the two pancakes, so you plate and decorate two more, bringing them back out to your living room.
By the time your show is over, you're contentedly full and set your dishes in the sink. You don't particularly feel like doing more chores at the moment - the rest of the apartment is spotless. The only speck of dirt is the dishes in the sink. So you figure that you've done enough work and that the few dishes you've used can wait.
You return to your bedroom and retrieve your laptop from its protective bag, opening the lid and pressing the power button. You wait for it to boot up, settling yourself in amongst your blankets. You decide to continue the story you had begun writing several months ago; the fantasy story you based on real-life events involving the Avengers and Loki. Only, in your story, Loki is the hero. Americus is a yellow horse that sees the good in all living creatures and tried to make peace. Star is the hot-tempered lion who tries to lead the other creatures and make them follow him. Bryce is the smart, peaceful raccoon that tries to stay out of trouble. Bart is a hawk who flies far above the trees, trying to plan his team's best attack against the fire-breathing dragon that misunderstands the good creatures in the world and wreaks havoc on the innocent without a second thought. Tash is a spider who uses her extra legs to kick several butts at once. Mjor (1) is a golden wolf, eager to help his teammates. And poor Loptr is a snake who once worked alongside the dragon but has seen the error of his ways and wishes to join the other creatures in fighting the dragon, but they do not trust him and therefore will not accept him.

You become lost in your story, soon falling back to sleep with your laptop sitting brightly on your bed. You push it to the side as you fall back against the bed, not kicking it off of the bed, but kicking it away from you. One arm rests above your head while the other is stretched out on the bed, as though reaching for something. One knee is bent comfortably while the other is nearly straight beside it.
Due to your slumber, you're unaware of the sudden presence in your bedroom. There's been no sound of a door opening and closing, because your current guest rarely uses the door.
The foot of the bed dips under the intruder's weight as his emerald eyes scan your laptop screen. He chuckles lightly to himself as he reads your story, touched by how you see him. Only you could possibly see such good in someone like him.
He closes the laptop and sets it on the floor so that it won't fall, then sheds his metal armor and leather coat, stripping down before raiding your closet in search of the extra clothes he always leaves with you. He finds his favorite green wife beater tank top and black pajama pants and pulls them on before lifting the blanket and crawling into bed beside you. His arms wrap around you and out of instinct you curl into him, subconsciously seeking the warmth and comfort that his presence offers. He kisses your forehead before he settles into a light sleep.

You awake some hours later, questionably comfortable. You can't recall your bed being so warm and inviting without someone in it - there had to be someone in your bed! You jump up, removing your arms from the unknown figure and searching for a weapon before your eyes fall upon his sleeping form. Your eyes soften before widening again and a grin spreads across your lips. You launch at him, nuzzling his chest and wrapping your arms around him, kissing his jaw and neck until he wakes. He chuckles at your enthusiasm, tilting his head down to capture your lips with his own. His arms wrap around your back as he smiles at you.
"Loki," you breathe happily. "I can't believe you're back!" You nuzzle your nose into his neck, breathing in his scent and making a point that he is not allowed to move again, ever.
"It took a while to serve my sentence for trying to rule Midgard, but as soon as I finished I used all the magic I could to teleport back to you," he explains, running his fingers through your hair.
"Any particular reason why you didn't try coming back sooner?" you wonder quietly.
He presses a kiss to your forehead. "If I had, both S.H.I.E.L.D. and Odin would have come searching for me, and I couldn't return to you only for them to take me away again. I couldn't do that to you."
You smile up at him, touched by his concern for you. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you, too, (name)," he replied, pulling you closer. "I swear on my life that I shall never leave you again."
You nod and bury yourself in his arms and chest, taking in his scent and his warmth and all that is Loki. He's never allowed to leave again, and he knows it.



(1) Pronounced like Mjolnir, without the "lni."