A Gift (Loki X Reader)

A Gift (Loki x Reader)

Summary: Loki gives the reader a sword for valentines day and teaches them how to use it. Thor mistakes the gift as proof of an engagement.

Note: Screw roses and chocolate, I want a sword as a declaration of love! Also, screw canon and characters dying; everyone is alive and happy and healed. Please let me know what you think, feedback makes me strong and keeps me motivated to write more! Have a great day :D

Words: 1817 

It wasn’t the fact that someone had snuck into your room in the dead of night that bothered you. After all, FRIDAY would have alerted you if they meant harm and if, by some terrifying twist of genius, they’d evaded her scanners then they still hadn’t meant to hurt you as they’d left you sleeping peacefully through the night.

It wasn’t even that they’d tidied up - although that was rather strange. No, what bothered you was that, after silently cleaning your apartment, the intruder had left nothing but a long box on your table. No note, no explanation. Just a box, wrapped beautifully in dark green paper. 

Naturally, you had FRIDAY run a few tests on the box to prove that it was safe to open. She confirmed that there were no dangerous trace readings or anything to be worried about but suggested caution nonetheless. Expecting some kind of biological weapon or hidden explosives, you were quite surprised to find a sword. 

It was beyond beautiful. The blade was perfectly balanced, just the right side of heavy for you to comfortably lift and manoeuvre it, but deceptively sharp. (The first thing you’d done was run your fingers along the immaculate surface and cut yourself on the edge.) The hilt was like something from a fairytale. Made of a golden alloy of some kind, decorated with the most intricate swirling designs, you surmised it had to be centuries old at least; craftmanship of this quality simply didn’t exist nowadays. 

It was everything you could have dreamed of in a sword - and you had dreamed of owning one for so long - but it didn’t explain why it was there or why your mysterious giftee wanted to remain anonymous. 

However, you’d come to accept that life - your life, especially - rarely made much sense so, instead of worrying, you grabbed the sword and did what any normal person in your position would have done. (Probably; you’d spent so many years surrounded by super assassins and aliens that your definition of ‘normal’ was somewhat screwed.) You strode through the Compound like a proud soldier off to war, down to the training room where you intended to slash and stab the crap out of the training dummies. 

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