Loki Oneshots

Masked Love

The mask lies heavy on your face, its feathers tickling your temples and the jewels irritating your skin. You wish for nothing more than to take it off, but what's the point in a masquerade ball if you don't wear a mask? 

Besides, you're rather looking forward to the anonymity. Being able to go to a royal ball without fear of being judged for your social class or looked down upon for your family's status.

Your heels clack against the marble floors, each tile polished so much you can see your face in them. Your dress follows you like a loyal dog, the hem brushing your ankles delicately. The hallways are lit by hundreds of thousands of candles - some wall mounted, others hanging from the ceiling in stunning chandeliers; all emit a warm, welcoming glow. Guards stand both sides of every doorway, a spear clutched tightly in one hand while the other holds a round shield embellished with the Asgardian crest.

You hurry past them, excitement bubbling inside you as you walk through the huge, golden doors into the ballroom.

It's filled to the brim with people, each and every one of them in glittering ballgowns or slim, satin pieces; fine tuxedoes or traditional Asgardian robes. The room is alive with chattering and drinking, the air filled with the melodic sounds of laughter intertwining with music.

Walking down the stairs, you can't seem to take your eyes off the scene: it's picturesque, to say the least. You wander over to the side, watching as couples move to the centre of the ballroom, the orchestra beginning to play.

It feels magical.

You sigh and tear yourself away, heading towards the buffet as you wonder when you'll get a chance to do that. Perhaps you should go speak to someone, ask if they'd give you a dance. But, then again, you're not sure if you could deal with the rejection.

The buffet table is huge and filled to the brim with delicacies and foods you've never before seen. You're slightly overwhelmed at the choice, not sure what you should try and what you should ignore.

But then something catches your eye. Correction: someone.

A little ways across the table, a man stands holding some sort of half-eaten tart, his piercing green eyes set on you. Although, he doesn't look at you in a way that suggests he means harm; it's more of a soft look. You offer him a smile and continue searching the table, attempting to find something that looks tasty.

Your eyes - for some reason - land on the man again, your cheeks heating up at the realisation he's still looking right back at you. He points to his tart then brings a hand to his mouth, making the motion of a chef's kiss. You can't help the grin that plasters itself on your face.

Scanning the table once more, you spot something that looks rather like the pastry he's holding. You lift it up, point at it and tilt your head slightly, silently asking if it's the right one. He nods.

You take a bite, your eyes widening at how tasty it is. It's sweet, but not so sweet that it's sickly. The pastry is buttery and flaky and perfect in every way. The man grins as you nod in agreement.

The music stops and everyone starts to clap; you quickly finish the pastry and join in, listening to someone announcing the next dance. In your distracted state of trying to peer over the heads of way too many people to see if anything interesting has happened, you lose sight of the man.

You turn around, searching for him; perhaps he hasn't gone far. Perhaps, if you find him, you could talk to him properly. Or perhaps he's gone to dance with his partner. You sigh, but jump when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

"Apologies, I did not intend to scare you, my lady," Your eyes meet with the piercing green ones you'd been searching for, his thin lips curved into a soft smile. He wears a plain, black, satin mask and green robes decorated with gold. His hair is long and midnight black; you can't see his face but you're already swept away at how stunning he is.

"Do not fret, I was merely distracted," You smile. "Oh, and thank you for the recommendation. It really was delicious,"

"It's no problem at all, they just so happen to be my favourite,"

The announcer once more signals the end of the dance and the beginning of a new one, inviting people to the centre of the ballroom.

The man grins, holding out a single hand and bowing slightly. "Would you care to have this dance, my lady?"

Your stomach flips and your heart flutters as you slide your hand hesitantly into his. His hold is gentle as he leads you to the centre of the ballroom, sliding his arm around your waist.

The music begins and you're whisked around the ballroom, your skirt swirling around your ankles and your body pressed flush against his. You seem to lose track of your surroundings as you step in time to the music, falling head over heels into his beautiful green eyes.

His moves are graceful yet precise, his grip firm as he sweeps you to the floor and back up to your feet. Your breath comes in short, quiet, unbelieving gasps, a smile seeming to be permanently stuck to your face.

The dance finishes far too quickly for your liking, the last note of the music playing as you sweep into a final, deep curtsy. Applause erupts around you, bringing you back to reality as you stand and take the man's hand once more. He pulls you in close, whispering in your ear:

"How would you feel about going to the gardens?"

He pulls away as you murmur: "I'd like that,"

He smiles and pulls you from the ballroom, weaving through the crowd and taking you into the moonlit gardens. 

As soon as you come to a stop, a single note of laughter falls from your lips. "That was the best thing I've ever done, thank you,"

"No, thank you, my lady. It truly was wonderful," He replies, his hand still clutching yours.

You smile at each other for a moment, butterfly wings tickling your insides.

"Say, I never caught your name," He acknowledges, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it softly.

"Well, would that not defeat the point of a masquerade?" You answer, feeling your cheeks beginning to burn from his gesture. "But, if you must know, it's Y/n,"

"Y/n... a pretty name for a pretty woman. I am Loki, it's lovely to meet you,"

"And you also, Loki,"

He reaches up and brushes a hair behind your ear. He cups your cheek and leans in, stopping only a breath away from your face.

"May I?" He murmurs.

"You may,"

At your words, he finally closes the gap, pressing the sweetest of kisses to your lips. Just like the dance, it ends much too soon.

His demeanour seems to change as his eyes land on something behind you. You turn around to see a muscular man with blonde hair beckoning him over.

"I fear I must go," He sighs, seeming to sag. "Though I wish to never leave you,"

You smile, brushing a hand across his face. "It's alright. Go, we shall see each other again,"

Loki takes a breath, looking between you and the man before his face lights up. "Do you know of Stargazing Hill?"

"Of course,"

"May I meet you there tomorrow at sundown?"

Your grin grows wider - if that is even possible. "I'd love that,"

"Me too," He chuckles softly.

"But no masks, alright?"

Loki nods. "I look forward to seeing you fully, my beautiful lady."