Mischievous Games│Loki

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𝒔𝒘𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒕 (𝒏.) - 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆, 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒙𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒚

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EVERYTHING WAS- IN FACT- not alright.

Not even a second after the elevator doors of Stark Tower parted, the entirety of the Avengers violently accosted Loki and Artemis.

Clint Barton hurled himself at the god and wrenched him away from Artemis' grasp as Natasha ran up to her and pulled her into her chest, with Steve following close behind.

"Art!" Stark yelled, already tapping at the piece of tech implanted in his chest in preparation for what was to come. "What the actual fuck?"

"Kid," Natasha said frantically, pushing Artemis' hair back as she inspected her face. "Are you alright? Has that green-eyed psycho done anything to you?"

Artemis gently slapped her aunt's hands away while her gaze was solely focused on Loki and her uncle who was mercilessly punching the god's stomach. "No, I'm not possessed. Uncle, stop!"

Clint Barton didn't listen to her plea and had Loki by the scruff, holding him down by his neck as he repeatedly kicked his side. Loki was doing his best to not retaliate as his hands tried to come down to block his stomach.

Artemis could feel a wave of intense anger emerge within her. Not only five minutes ago had she pictured doing the same exact thing to Loki if she ever got her hands on him again but seeing someone else do it light a fire inside of her.

She began to think that simply sleeping with someone resulted in becoming severely attached to them and their wellbeing but it was more than that.

Loki could be insensitive, harsh, apathetic, and demented, but he was hers and hers alone to torment.

If anyone was going to beat him up, it was going to be her.

"Clint!" she seethed, escaping Steve's hold on her to walk up to her uncle and pull him back by the collar of his shirt. "Stop hurting him!"

"What?" he yelled, his face scrunched up in anger as his grip on Loki's neck eased up a little. "Why the hell should I stop?"

He took a step away from Loki, and the prince utilized that brief second to run to Artemis' side. She held onto the fabric of his sleeve and prayed that her uncle's brash actions hadn't resulted in Loki getting another urge to bolt.

"Look, Loki is not a threat to you," she explained, reaching down to brush reassuring circles on his hand. "At least not anymore."

Thor, who had remained silently sitting on Stark's couch, raised up slowly and parted the Avengers with a cold stare. He looked like he was about to smite every single person in the room if it could get him closer to Loki.

He stood in front of Artemis with his hammer pointed directly at her and urging her to try and deny him access to his brother as his blue eyes lit up with little bolts of repressed electricity.

Artemis gritted her teeth and stepped forward so that the end of his hammer met her chest. She was going to stand her ground and she didn't care if it was a god or the president of the United States, she would not let anyone get to Loki.