Marvel Preferences and Imagines (Taking Requests)

Daisies and Dagger 4

A/n: Double update! I have no regrets...hopefully?

So far avoiding Loki for the last four days had been a greater challenge than expected. Sure, his innumerable rooms made it easy to dodge any onlookers, but he seemed to know you better than you knew yourself. Around the afternoon on the third day, he seemed to finally somewhat understand that you needed space from him.

He didn't try to catch you cooking. He didn't try to sneak up on you while you were reading. The most he did was restock the kitchen when the refrigerator seemed empty. Other than that, he would leave you alone to wander aimlessly around his giant house.

You almost felt bad for the man. Almost.

Tony checked up on you once a day. He was a bit disappointed that you had run out of the warehouse before the meeting leaving Loki to deal with the strange people that he dealt with on a regular basis. He said you didn't allow your inner beauty to shine onto people. Whatever that meant.

Still, you felt a little guilty. Which was strange because Loki was the one to know you before you ever heard about him. You didn't know what Stark even meant by that. How could someone know you before you knew them? That sound more fictional than real. It's something that mafia stories are founded on. Something that would never happen in reality.

You wanted -no, needed- answers. Yet the only one that could provide you with that was the same man you were trying to avoid for the last four days. Maybe if you were able to stifle up a little courage you would be able to talk to him without feeling like you were nude in public.

There were two options, and you decided to take the option with the answers.

***

"So this is supposed to be a peace offering?" Loki asked, grabbing the spoon and taking a generous portion of the desert that you had made him. He meets your eyes as he eats part of the flan. His eyes shut as he moans slightly in delight.

"You know if this is poisonous, I'd die happily,"

You smile, sitting down on a maple chair opposite to his desk. As he finishes the rest in silence, you took in the sight before you.

Large bookcases lined the walls, full of little trinkets and giant novels. There were Dickens and Tolstoy. Conan Doyle and Agatha Criste. Your eyes wandered around the bookshelf until it landed on a heavily worn leather book sleeve. You stood up and gently took the book off the shelf. You could feel the multiple souls that must have touched the book the way you did. You traced the gold cursive lettering that detailed the cover with your fingertip. The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.

You flipped over the tan tinted pages that hinted at how old the book must be until you found what you were looking for. You read over the familiar works of the literary genius even though you had it all committed to memory.

"And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare. As any, she belied with false compare." His voice whispered from behind you.

You had been so caught up in Shakespeare that you had barely noticed that he had crept up behind you. You didn't turn around, not yet, but you held the book up to your heart and rested it there for a bit. You thought about the times you had been reading the books that you had found in his library. Had he been there looking on as a guardian angel of some sorts? What about in the kitchen when you would make yourself food? Had you been so caught up in what you were doing that you didn't notice him sitting behind you?

"Sonnet 130, right? I would have taken you for a sonnet 18 girl." Loki asked, walking back over to where he had been sitting only a moment before. You smiled, placing the book back on the shelf. You glanced at Loki. His eyes held a surprising amount of pain in them as if the time spent apart had torn him to pieces. He sat upright, quite tense, waiting for you to say something -anything- to him.

"I used to like eighteen," Your voice started off as quiet as a mouse but it steadily grew, "But I read this amazing book, and it introduced me to 130. I love how Shakespeare doesn't hesitate to say that his lover is imperfect. How her hair is basically a mess of black wires and her eyes don't shine like the sun. He is saying that beyond the outward imperfections of his mistress, there is a love that radiates beyond any other,"

Loki watched as you blushed slightly under his stare. Slowly the outward portions of his lips curled until his mouth revealed a bright smile. His eyes shone unlike you had ever seen. You felt a bit more comfortable, but you were also here for a reason.

This seemed to dawn on Loki after a few minutes and his smile disappeared as quickly as it came. His eyes shifted into what looked like emerald green. More beautiful than diamonds but still cut and strong.

"Loki, What did Tony mean?" You ask quietly. He turns away from your glance. You knew he was hiding something. If only he would tell you.

"Tony meant nothing. He misspoke" He replied in a chilling voice. It raised goosebumps on your arms, making you shiver, but you needed to know what he meant. There needed to be a deeper meaning.

"Loki, What did Tony mean?" You repeated. You both knew that you weren't going to stop until you knew what was going on.

"I cannot tell you," He said. It sounded almost manufactured. Like he had repeated that phrase so many times that it had basically become second nature to him. Still, you pressed on.

"Loki," You pleaded, "I need to know what he meant. Please just tell me,"

Loki's shoulders slumped noticeably. He looked tired. As if he was forced to take on a herculean task once again.

"Please," You whispered.

He faced your eyes with tears on his own. You were taken back by how young this man looked. He normally seemed ten years your elder, but now he reminded you of a lost teenager stranded in a pit of despair with no way out.

All you wanted to do was to take him into your arms, cradling him to your chest as you rocked his worries away.

He dug down into one of the drawers in his desk, shuffling through multiple papers until he found the right one. He pulled an envelope out, taking out a small knife. He used the knife to break open the red seal so that he could pull out a small slip of folded paper.

He unfolded the paper, tears streaming down his cheeks and landing in small puddles on the envelope. He handed you a paper and collapsed onto his chair into sobs. You glanced down at the small paper, not realizing what it was.

Until you did. It was a receipt, similar to one that you would get whenever you purchased an item using a card. Except on this slip was the small detailing of a transaction. Not by Loki. But by your father.

A transaction to sell you off.