Loki x Male (or nonbinary) Reader

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Loki x Male!Reader

This is if you (reader) are Tony's adopted son, and of course if Infinity War/Endgame never happened.

Trigger warning: there will be mentions of self-harm and suicidal thoughts. If you are triggered by any of these topics, please skip to the next part.

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*Loki POV*

I locked myself in my room, hoping that no one would try to bother me. I curled up in a corner, wanting to be invisible, and started to cry. Why must I be so weak? I ruined everything, made my mother die, and I had to be born a fucking Jotun. The race I had to hate for years, upon years.

As soon as I stopped crying I went to the small desk across from my bed, and got a small chest from a stack of art books. Upon opening the chest, I saw many small pieces of jewelry that were my mother's along with a small blade. I took the blade out then looked at my wrist. Would this help?

The silver blade sparkled in what light I had in the room as I gently placed it upon my wrist. I slowly drug it across my skin, seeing blood slowly form. I was calm, collected, with a small stinging sensation in my wrist. I left more cuts along my wrist before finally bandaging the cuts going up my forearm.

"Loki?" I heard outside my door. (Y/n). I panicked and quickly put the blade away, all while putting on a hard green long sleeved shirt to cover the bandages. "Loki, please open the door." He said. I unlocked the door and opened it, to see (y/n) with a few boxes in his arms.

"What the hell is in those boxes??"

"I thought you'd want some color in your drawings, so I bought some things that you might be able to use!"

My eyes widened as I let him in and he set the boxes on my bed. I handed him a pair of scissors to help him open them, and once they were all opened, my mind was screaming. Many different colored pencils and markers, along with some liner pens and acrylic paints. "You can test this stuff out, and whatever you like you let me know!" I looked at (y/n) who was smiling, proudly. My mind then flooded with thoughts that wouldn't go away

So stupid. You know he's just doing this so he can turn on you, and stab you in the back. When he's gone you will make yourself bleed more. I got lost in my thoughts to where I didn't know that (y/n) was trying to get my attention.

"You ok, man?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course."

Once he left, I sat at my desk. I need help. Someone, please, help me...

Months went by, and no one knew of my growing addiction. I would cut deeper, and I'd make sure the blood would run in a constant stream. The places grew as well. From my wrists, arms, stomach, thighs, even my shoulders. I looked in the mirror, disgusted, but also pleased with my work.

I picked up a book and went to the roof of the Avengers building, where Tony and (y/n) were talking. (Y/n) looked amazing. Wait, what? "Dad, please let me do this. I'm an adult anyway." I sat down a little ways away from them, but I wanted to hear the conversation as well.

"Look, (y/n), you're my son, and i want you protected."

"Protected from what? I'll be asking a person a question and letting out my true feelings for him!"

"Fine, but don't come back to me when he tries something else."

Tony left (y/n) and have me a stern look as he walked by. (Y/n) then saw me and turned pale. "How long have you been there?" He asked, obviously nervous. It was... Cute? "Not long, really." I replied. He let out a sigh of relief as I opened up my book.

(Y/n) sat in front of me then asked something that made my heart almost stop. "What's on your wrist?" I instantly froze. I glanced at my wrist to see that my sleeve was low enough for people to see them. I quickly adjusted it.

"It's nothing."

"Loki, it's ok-"

"I said it's nothing!"

I shouted and quickly got up. (Y/n) looked scared, and upset. What have I done? I felt tears in my eyes and my breathing became faster. Go to your room and finally do it. Finally take that blade and make the deepest cut you can. End it all, Loki. End everything. You fuck up anyways.

I ran to my room with (y/n) behind me. I locked the door and quickly found my blade, blood-soaked, but still keeping the sparkling silver look as well. I lifted my sleeve as (y/n) banged on the door. "Loki, please!" He shouted, "Whatever you're thinking, don't give in!"

I started crying and I dropped the blade. The door would break soon. I curled up on the floor as I cast an illusion throughout the room, making it look like nothing was wrong. The door broke down and (y/n) stood there as my illusion looked at him. "If this is an illusion..."

Illusion me looked down then back up to him. "Is it?" (Y/n) asked. The illusion sighed and I took the spell away. "Oh my God..." (Y/n) covered his mouth as he knelt down to my level. "Loki..." He hugged me. It was... Kind, gentle, caring. I couldn't help but hug back and son into his shoulder. He did nothing but hold me close in his arms. "I'm so sorry, (y/n)! I should have told you sooner!"

He let go of me then cupped my cheeks, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. "You don't need to apologise." He said, "We do need to get you some help. Professional help." He kissed my cheek then looked at my wrist. He actually kissed me?

"How long?"

"W-what?"

"How long has this been going on?"

I looked down again and choked out a small and quiet, "8 months." (Y/n) looked heartbroken, as if he found out a spouse had a terminal illness.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was scared!"

"Of what?"

"Of you pushing me away and saying I'm nothing but a disgusting monster who cuts himself every day-"

"Since when were you ever a monster?"

Those words hit me, hard. I was never asked that by anyone. I thought everyone saw me as a murderer or a Jotun who needed slaying. (Y/n) took the blade and placed it on his wrist. "Do it to me." I looked at him, shocked.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Cut me."

"Why would I hurt someone who means the world to me?!"

(Y/n) threw the blade across the room then kissed me. His lips were soft and delicate. When he pulled away, I realized what I was doing to him.

A few months had passed and my cuts had healed, but many visible scars were left behind. (Y/n), my friend- no, boyfriend, helped me find a good therapist, good coping skills, and helped me become happier, stronger, and helped me realize that I'm more than a God with scars. I'm a God with scars that tell of a struggling past that will get better, even if it may not seem like it. I plan on proposing to (y/n) soon. I already know I've found the right person for me.