Random Loki (And Others?) stories/one shots

Scars (Fandroki, 1303 words)

📝Description: Odin as usual, being a bitch to Loki, causes him to self harm again and his boyfriend, Fandral, walks into Loki's, his lover's arms covered in fresh wounds and blood.📝

⚠️TW: self harm, suicidal thoughts, slight mentions of rape and language ⚠️

❤Ship: Fandroki❤🏳️‍🌈

🕔Time: a year before Thor 1🕐

Loki's pov

I ran through the palace, trying and failing to suppress my tears. Why? Why did Odin have to hate me? Why not Thor? I didn't even do anything wrong!

Are you kidding? You do wrong things all the time, living being one of them. I should know, for I am you.

An unknown voice whispered in my head. Get out! Get out, you stupid voices!

No... I don't think I want to.

I ran into my green room, slamming the door shut. I ran onto my soft bed and jumped face first into the green covers. I let my tears fall, wetting the covers. Tears cascaded down my thin, pale face like waterfalls and I let sobs shake through my body. I summoned my daggers, the leather hilt softly in my hands.

Do it!!! Do it! You deserve nothing but endless pain, Odin has given you a lot of it, but not nearly enough, weakling. Weak. Weak. Weak. Discusting. Look at yourself. Look how discusting you are. Your body is way to thin and weak. I have no idea why Fandral is happy to roll around in bed with you. The voice paused for a moment. Actually I do know. You do have a nice dick, I can tell you that. That's the only reason Fandral wants you. Who would want you for something other than that. I am sure a certain young maiden would agree with me. She did do, things to you, without your consent, did she not?

And to think anyone would love you. Pathetic. Weak. Discusting. Pathetic. Weak. Discusting. Pathetic.

The evil voice traveled and washed over the thoughts of my mind like a tsunami, turning the few things I may have actually liked about myself, my eyes or hair for instance, into insecurities. Eventually, I grew angry. Angry and tired of thus voice wracking my brain. So I rolled up my sleeves and sliced the blade of my dagger over my arm and wrists.

One cut.

Two cuts.

Three cuts.

Eventually my entire arm was a painting of deep, angry scars. Each one a simple brush of red paint on a white canvas, to me. Only my arm was not a canvas. My dagger was not a paintbrush. And my blood was not paint.

My tears rained upon my bed, clothes and arms, mixing with the blood that too was dripping onto my bed. The thick, red liquid trailed down my arms, as if it were rivers of blood, staining my rolled up sleeves as it reached them. Sobs were now loud and shallow cuts were now deep.

Do it. One final cut, and the pain is over. For you and everyone around you. One, final, deep cut. That's all it takes. Trust me. The once angry voice, turned soft and almost caring.

It was right. I couldn't live with this pain anymore. One, single cut. That would do it.

I took a deep, shaky breath and rested the sharp, blood stained blade on my wrist, where I could see blue veins hidden beneath the blood. The blade went deeper. And the second before I could do the deed and slice the final cut...

Knock

Knock

Knock

"Loki, darling, are you in there?" Fandral. His beautiful voice, adorning my hears. "A maiden told me she saw you running in here, looking quite distressed. Can I come in please. Loki. Baby, can you hear me. Please can I come in, something's wrong, tell me. It's ok, you can tell me anything. And if you don't want to, that's OK too. I will be here for you. For comfort, to talk to. Whatever you need, my love. Just please can I come in?" His voice was soft and sweet, like music to my ears. I sniffed but remained quiet. "Ok, Lokes, I can't leave you, I know something's wrong. I'm coming in, ok?"

"NO!" I shouted, but my lover was aleready in the room.

His beautiful, icy, eyes widened in shock and a gasp escaped his beautiful, pink lips. "Loki." His voice was barely heard.

Fandral suddenly hurried over to me and encased me in his arms, not caring that tons of blood and tears would stain his white top and his favourite blue jacket. He pulled me away from the hug, and I saw the tears, streaming down his face. "Loki. Can I have this please." His voice was shaky as he lightly tugged at the blade of the dagger still in my hands, not caring that he was earning cuts in his palms because of doing this. I wouldn't let go. "Please darling. I love you too much to let you do this to yourself. Please. You mean more to me than anyone else in the Nine realms. Heck! The universe. I love you more that I can say, so what your going through, we can go through it together. We have been through so many things together, so we can do this too. And it's ok, I know exactly how your feeling, ok, I may not know exactly what you are going through but I am quite certain." This time when Fandral tugged on the dagger, I let go.

"Thank you. I love you so much Loki I can assure you. Do you, do you want to talk about it?" I shook my head vigorously and buried my head in his chest. He stroked my Raven hair, lovingly. Whispering in a different language. After about ten minutes of Fandral rocking me back and forth, whispering, comforting me in any way possible, he finally pulled away. He grabbed the dagger, he discarded on the floor and ran into the bathroom.

When he came out, less than a minute later, he was holding some bandages, a bowl of water with a cloth in and some gauze. He wiped as much blood off as he could and then wrapped my arms in the gauze and bandages. Eventually, once all the wounds were covered, he helped me undress from my clothes and led me into the bath he ran for me, ordering me to put a waterproofing spell on my arms. Once he made sure I was OK, he went back into my bedroom to do what I assumed was to clean up. Ten minutes later, a shirtless Fandral walked into the bathroom with red puffy eyes. I realised he had been crying. For me?

He knelt down do that he was level with me, and started washing my, still slightly bloody, body and hair. When he was done, he wrapped me in a fluffy, white towel and led me back into my room which, as I suspected, was now free from blood and the bed covers were changed, our stained clothes, in a pile near the door, were the only last pieces of evidence of what had happened. We got fully clothed again, he had to borrow one of my shirts, and we layed down in my bed, wrapping eachother in our arms, occasionally sharing a kiss or an "I love you".

Soon enough, we were both asleep, for once in both of our lives, free of nightmares.

Although, thanks to Fandral, who had smartly figured it out, Odin would be the one with nightmares. Thank you magic.

So that's my first one shot! I hope you enjoyed, but if you're crying, if it makes you feel any better, a tear or two was shead in the making of this chapter.