-ˏˋMarvel One-Shots!ˎˊ˗

{I Can't.-Loki}

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plotline:

someone, we don't know who, has hired Loki to try and kill you. Try, no, actually kill you. But, Loki just doesn't have the heart, after being a bit of a stalker. 

smut prompt-lines:

"If you're going to kill me, make it seductive."

"Why don't you mark me as yours, then?"

"Show me what you got."

"I don't think you really want to kill me." 

word count:

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Loki's POV (supriiiiise.)

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I perched on the ledge of her(i'm sorry, it's female pronouns!) window, watching the young woman inside. In a few minutes, she would hopefully be dead. I watched her walk around the room, seeming very much agitated while talking on her...what was it? Phone. That was it. I opened the window just a touch, able to listen in on her conversation. "...Really? There...isn't a chance of her waking up?...alright. Thank you. Just...try to wake her up. Please. She's my mother!"

 I noticed her toss her phone, and then continue to sit down on her bed and bury her face in her hands. I couldn't help but feel a bit of pity, remembering...Frigga. I watched as silent tears began to trickle down her cheeks. What had happened, between the two? I snuck over to her door, and went into my cat form. That would be the only way to get inside her house, that is, hoping she was a pet lover. And who wouldn't love a midnight-black cat with green eyes?

Y/N's POV

I heard the doorbell ring, and raised my tear-streaked head. Who would it be, especially at this hour, 11:38? I shrug. I had a camera to show me who has at the front door, so I could at least see if it was a crazy murderer.

I flicked on the camera, gasping a bit when I saw a little cat, pacing in circles. I ran down to the door, opening the door carefully, and seeing a midnight-black cat mewl slowly.

I gasped a little bit, and scooped him into my arms. I felt it rub its furry head against my chest, and laughed. "Looks like you need a little place to stay. I guess you can stay the night, I needed someone to talk to anyway. " The cat purred in response. It picked its head up, and looked into my eyes.

Now that I was looking into its eyes, the piercing green gave me an impression, that if this cat was a human, those eyes would be gazing straight into my eyes and into my soul.

I set it down on the couch slowly, peering at the little thing as it curled up into a ball. I ran over to the fridge, where leftover salmon from last night resided. I carefully warmed it up, setting it on a plate in front of the cat.

He(I had decided it was a he) sniffed at the food, then started to nibble at the food. I smiled, and sat down next to it, some tears still pricking at my eyes from the...disaster of earlier.

I waited until the cat finished, and then it paced over and sat in my lap, appreciative purrs sending low vibrations through my arm. I absent-mindedly started to stroke it, asking a light question. "Hey, boy, are you okay with me ranting a bit?" He let out a purr, resting his head on my lap and putting his paws on my right thigh. I assumed that was a yes.

I sighed, and started my rant/talk.

(From now on, it is you talking)

"First of all, it started with my deadbeat dad leaving us for his little 20-year old secretary, Cinnamon, in his office, without even a word. Like, what kind of name is Cinnamon? It sounds like her parents were looking at a spice rack when they named her.