๐๐ง๐ซ๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ฒ ๐๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐๐ โโด๏ธห๏ฝกโ ๐ฟ๐๐๐
"Well? Are you going to give me a proper directive, or do I have to keep standing here looking pretty?" Asgard is crumbling, dark green magic fractures the sky, and Thorโs "genius battle plan" is an absolute disaster. Loki is already three seconds away from rolling his eyes and slipping off into the shadows to handle things his own way. He defies all authority and takes orders from no one. That is, until y/n steps into his path. A story in which the God of Mischief is a stubborn mule to the entire Nine Realms, but hopelessly wrapped around y/n's fingerโobeying every command after a required smirk and scoff.
๐๐ง๐ซ๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ฒ ๐๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐๐ โโด๏ธห๏ฝกโ ๐ฟ๐๐๐
"Well? Are you going to give me a proper directive, or do I have to keep standing here looking pretty?" Asgard is crumbling, dark green magic fractures the sky, and Thorโs "genius battle plan" is an absolute disaster. Loki is already three seconds away from rolling his eyes and slipping off into the shadows to handle things his own way. He defies all authority and takes orders from no one. That is, until y/n steps into his path. A story in which the God of Mischief is a stubborn mule to the entire Nine Realms, but hopelessly wrapped around y/n's fingerโobeying every command after a required smirk and scoff.