Marvel Imagines

Loki Laufeyson-Safe & Sound

☀︎☀︎☀︎

Requested by: @osbvpdsc

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Mortality was never something Loki concerned himself with, much less thought about.

Granted, he had faked his death once or twice, thus proving his apathy, but was that any different from the way his bumbling brother drank copious amounts of Asgardian ale until he passed out for a day or two, especially to celebrate his own birth, something Loki personally thought was a dark mark in the history of the universe?

He didn't think so.

In short, the god of mischief did not usually have a reason to worry about mortality for he had a skill unmatched in avoiding death and for some reason, Thor was just irritatingly hard to kill no matter how many times he surprise-stabbed him.

He supposed there was the matter of the Avengers as well, but if he was being completely honest, he'd tried to kill them all once. If someone else finished the job, he wouldn't be particularly bothered about it even though he was forced to work with them under condition of his own freedom. This was his mentality when he first came to Earth and there was nothing much that such an inferior people could do to change his mind.

At least, until YN came back.

He knew they always talked about YN and were very concerned with her well-being, for an accident had befallen her and prevented the young woman from joining them in the Battle of New York, so when she did return, she was very surprised to find the god of mischief lounging at the kitchen table as though it were normal. Loki didn't much care for her, at first—her presence was just an addition to the collection of humans that annoyed him.

What he hadn't anticipated was the friendship that would begin to bloom between them over the course of a few weeks.

He was quick to realize that YN was a very blunt person.

If she had something to say, she would say it without hesitation and he supposed this was a reason he tolerated being around her.

She herself could barely do the same, but she noticed something about him, too. 

Loki wasn't really doing anything.

He wasn't training for or going on any missions.

There was nothing productive in the way he occasionally prowled around the Tower or how he would sit in his room, locking himself away from everyone. She blamed her own team as well as the god of mischief for his indolence.

They didn't want anything to do with him as much as he didn't want anything to do with them.

So, she decided to change that.

And mornings suddenly became Loki's personal hell.

YN was up before the sun even dared to peek it's head over the horizon, ordering him out of bed and dragging him into the training room. He was so adamant to stay under the covers one morning, that he tried to get away with creating an illusion of himself.

She later told him that the bucket of water accidentally slipped out of her fingers when she figured out what he'd done.

She had thrown the whole bucket at his head.

That first day, Loki didn't think he could hate anyone more than he hated YN—she pushed him through six hours of "light" training that left him feeling like a limp noodle as he lay facedown on the floor of the boxing ring, gasping for air like a fish out of water. Sure, he had lived a few more lifetimes than she and saw much more bloodshed and battle, but the despicable young woman had wrung out every single iota of energy he had in his body and was still bouncing around the ring waiting for him to get back up.