Imagine: you being a goddess who got tortured by Loki, then meeting him again and seeing his true desire....you.
You are a goddess, the goddess of temptation. Your birth name is Dominique, a secret carefully guarded under layers of mortal guise.
Cast from Asgard by Odin, framed for a crime you didn’t commit, you descended to Earth. Loki’s cruelty was relentless, his torture a chilling symphony of power and malice. You escaped, vanishing into the currents of human history, watching civilizations rise and fall, technology bloom.
For centuries, you walked among mortals, blending seamlessly into the fabric of their world. Now, operating under SHIELD’s umbrella, you maintain the charade, an immortal hidden in plain sight.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
“This mission should be straightforward,” you comment, closing the folder. The sterile metal of the SHIELD briefing room felt colder than usual.
“Ten minutes, people. We move out on my mark,” Steve Rogers’ voice resonated with authority. The team stirred to action.
“Y/n, a drink with me after?” Tony Stark’s question was casual, laced with his usual charm. You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. The thought of the bar had been a beacon during the day’s grueling training exercises.
Hours later, settled into a dimly lit corner of a Manhattan bar, you finally relaxed. The amber liquid swirled in your glass, a quiet warmth against the chill of your carefully constructed composure.
Suddenly, a familiar tremor ran down your spine. Of course. Loki. He always had a knack for finding you, even across realms.
He moved towards you, settling onto the stool beside you, an unwelcome heat radiating from his presence. You cursed your own optimism, the foolish hope that you’d truly escaped him. You deliberately avoided his gaze, focusing on the condensation forming on your glass.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Loki’s voice was a low murmur, laced with a dangerous curiosity. You nodded, offering a carefully neutral response.
“I’m Y/n,” you introduced yourself, your voice devoid of emotion.
He kissed your hand, a gesture that felt both possessive and predatory. It wasn't the careful reverence you expected. Something was off.
“A curious game,” you thought.
“So, Y/n, where are you from?” He asked, his eyes scanning your face. You could feel the recognition flicker within them, the subtle acknowledgment of a past he hadn’t forgotten.
“Or should I say…Dominique?” He whispered, his breath warm against your ear.
“And what about that Loki?” You challenged, turning on the stool, meeting his gaze head-on. “Do you have a problem with that?”
You stood before him, a subtle challenge in your posture. “You think you can threaten me?”
“Do you honestly think I couldn’t handle these mortals if I were to hurt you?” He stepped closer, his voice laced with threat.
“You’ve softened, Loki,” you countered, a flicker of defiance in your eyes. “You’re weak, especially surrounded by these…mortals.”
“Unbelievable,” Loki breathed, a smirk twisting his lips. “But you’ve got a point. I won’t hurt you here, not with witnesses. It wouldn’t be…fair.”
“For a god, you’re remarkably naive,” you scoffed. “What makes you a god, Loki? Anyone can exploit desire. Power isn’t required. What makes *me* a goddess is that I wield that power too.” Your eyes shifted, deepening to molten gold.
Your appearance shimmered, shedding the guise of mortality. A scarlet dress cascaded around you, woven with threads of starlight. Gold jewelry adorned your skin, glittering with an otherworldly radiance. Killer golden heels completed the transformation, anchoring you to the earth with an undeniable authority.
“You’ve blown your cover,” Loki stated, his gaze drawn to the scars that traced your arms.
You followed him, herding him into a corner, trapping him with your gaze. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pale lines etched into your skin.
“Are those still from what I did?” He asked, his voice laced with a morbid curiosity.
“Every day I’m reminded,” you snapped, your voice laced with icy contempt. “I tried to return to Asgard, but they refused to accept me. Gods don’t bear scars.”
Silence descended, heavy and suffocating. The other patrons of the bar seemed to freeze, their conversations dying mid-sentence.
“Y/n…” Loki’s voice was barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
A cruel smile stretched across your lips. “I could care less about everything that happened. I am a goddess, I don't care about torture."
“They already knew, didn’t they?” Loki asked, his eyes darting around the room.
“Of course they knew. It’s difficult to conceal a secret like this, especially during a mission.” You purred, amused by his predicament.
“If you can discern everyone’s desires, then what’s mine?” Loki asked, his curiosity piqued.
“It’s changed,” you admitted, your gaze locking with his. “From the last time we spoke.”
“It has?” He replied, a frown creasing his brow.
A devilish grin bloomed on your lips. “Do you really want me to reveal your deepest desire to everyone?”
“Now that you say it, I’m not sure…”
You leaned closer, whispering into his ear. His eyes widened, and a wave of giggles rippled through the bar. He flushed crimson as you pulled back. “You?”
“I’m more than happy to make that desire a reality,” you winked, turning to leave him in his humiliation.