Pairing: Enemy!Loki x Reader, Avengers x Villain!Reader
Summary: You're sent after Loki to bring him back to Odin. Before you can drag him away from the Avengers, Loki calls out something embarrassing about you - the root of your petty rivalry.
A/N: this is a bit of crackfic lol, and reader has powers like this fic
WC: 1.6k
The Avengers were frantically dispersed throughout the streets, trying to fend off as many Chitauri as they could while protecting civilians. Tony was locked in a battle, alone, on the roof of the Avengers tower with Loki.
He sent repeated blasts towards the God of Mischief who merely dodged with little effort and kept phasing in and out of existence to drive Tony mad. After a few minutes he honestly forgot about his little take-over of New York City and was purely having fun messing with the great Tony Stark.
That was, until Tony was knocked to the ground by a powerful stream of light descending from – seemingly – nowhere. He was flat on his back and struggling to get back up from the force of the hit.
“What the hell was that!” Tony said, exasperatedly. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
“I can’t.” Loki said through gritted teeth. “But I know who can.”
“Huh?” Tony managed to get on his side and leaning on his arm and looked at Loki confused. He lifted his mask and looked around the roof but couldn’t find where the energy had come from.
“Alright. Just come out! We don’t have time for one of your dramatic entrances!” Loki yelled and started turning in circles and tilting his head at empty space, seemingly waiting for something to appear out of thin air.
For a moment Tony thought that he had gone temporarily insane. Instead, he heard an ethereal, echoing voice from the air around them.
“You’re no fun.”
Suddenly, you made yourself visible, standing right next to Tony on the floor. Tony squinted at the bright, glowing vignette around your figure. It slowly faded and Tony finally got a better look at you.
“Who the hell are you?” Tony demanded.
“Calm down, budget transformer.” you said dismissively as you stepped over his body and walked straight over to Loki. You stopped a few feet in front of him and pointed a finger accusingly. “It took me forever to try and track you down, lord melodrama.”
Tony tried to hold back a snicker at your nickname even thought he was still majorly confused. Suddenly, his jaw dropped at the sucker-punch you delivered to Loki’s jaw. He couldn’t hold back his laugh at that. But he quickly shut up when you sharply turned your head and glared menacingly at him.
“You me to knock you off this roof? Then keep quiet.”
For good measure, you sent a blast of energy at his chest and he was knocked flat on his ass again.
“Did my father send you again?” Loki said as he rubbed the side of his face and winced at the pain. “He’s always sending you after me.”
“It’s not like I enjoy it, frosty. I don’t want to be within five hundred miles of you normally – but your father offered a generous payment. I still hate you, but I happen to like money more.” You said snidely and smirked at his eyerolling and exasperation at your presence.
Tony watched on curiously as you continued berating Loki for the inconvenience he caused you. He blinked in surprise at the way Loki even flinched a few times at your harsh words and threats.
“I’m sorry – are you on our side?” Tony finally butted in.
You scoffed and looked at him like he was insane. “As if. But I’m definitely not on his.”
You turned your attention back to Loki and ignored Tony’s continued fascination.
“I need to deal with you.”
“Why? You haven’t wanted to come near me for a century since...well. That.”
You narrowed your eyes at his implication and stepped closer to him, getting right in his face before saying, “Don’t even think about it, sparkle prince.”
Loki tried to maintain his smirk, but Tony noticed his slight gulp at your threat. Was Loki scared of you?
By now, the Avengers had actually managed to clear the Chitauri and save the city – man, you must’ve been tearing into Loki for almost fifteen minutes straight. They had all joined Tony on the roof in spectating your telling-off of Loki.
Needless to say, they were all thoroughly entertained.
Thor finally arrived, and upon seeing you, he let out a hearty laugh.
“Witchy!” He said excitedly. He was about to embrace you in a bear hug but you sent a quick blast of light at his stomach that caused him to stumble backwards a few feet.
“Not my name, Odinson.” you sighed and rubbed the bridge of your nose in exhaustion.
“Yeah, brother. It’s Nightlight.” Loki chimed in, unhelpfully.
“Shut it!” You barked and Loki quickly shrunk but didn’t stop smiling at your irritation.
“Thor, do you want to explain who this is?” Steve asked as he grabbed Thor’s shoulder to steady him.
“Ah, yes. This is the Lightwitch!”
Everyone raised their eyebrows at you and you just rolled your eyes.
“Thor, I do not have time for this. I just want to get out of here, but I want my payment from your father.”
“I was wondering why you were here. I thought you never wanted to see Loki again after that time he told everyone that y-”
You sent another blast of light at Thor’s stomach, cutting him off. “Thor. Don’t test my patience right now.”
“Right. Sorry. Forgot we don’t talk about that.”
“But it’s so funny.” Loki sniggered and you turned your attention back to him.
“I’m about to beat you up if you don’t drop it right now.”
“Is she on our side?” You heard Clint whisper to Thor.
“Nope. Not on your side, not on his side. Just want my money.”
“Wait - I could’ve sworn Strange mentioned something about a Lightwitch one time.” Bruce chimed in. “Yeah, he did. He said you were one of the most feared villains of all time.”
All the Avengers immediately stiffened and looked at you like you were suddenly going to explode.
“Relax. I’m not a villain. Technically.” you shook your head at their defensiveness. “I just...like chaos. Nothing malicious. My powers just happen to be quite great.”
Clint narrowed his eyes and Natasha’s hand was still hovering over her gun strapped to her waist.
“What am I doing? I’m not here to hand out business cards.” You shook your head and shifted your attention back to the slimy, greasy-haired antler prince you currently were holding by gripping a fistful of a patch of fabric in his armour. “I’m here to bring you back to Asgard and get. my. money."
“But I’m having so much fun.” Loki said sarcastically. “What if I were to tell these Avengers about...that thing. That you’re-”
You cut him off with an uppercut to the jaw and you heard the Avengers collectively groan at the way Loki instantly fell to the concrete. “Still sensitive, are we?” Loki egged on.
“I’m trying really hard not to kill you right now.” You said as you leaned down and got up close and personal. “But I like money. And your father wants you back alive. For reasons I’ll never understand.” You muttered the last part to yourself as you stood back up.
“You’re not in charge of me. You know I’m technically your prince?” he said, looking up at you.
“Get up, your high maintenance.”
Tony – for the fourth time in twenty minutes – couldn't hold back his snicker.
“I’m still so confused.” Steve said.
“Well, it’s not for you to understand. Is it, Captain Spandex?” you said crudely.
Tony let out a full chuckle at that one.
“Got something to say, human spark plug?”
Tony shook his head with a smirk and tilted his head down towards the ground to try and hide his smile. Even when the nicknames were directed at him, he couldn’t help but lose it.
“Come on, Loki. Let’s go.” as Loki was slowly getting up, you took the opportunity to look at the city below you.
It was completely destroyed.
“Gotta say, for a discount sorcerer, you did pretty good.” you nodded your head, impressed despite yourself, at the damage Loki had done. Even if you hated him, you still had to appreciate a good chaotic scene where there was one.
“Thank you.” Loki said as he finally got back on his feet. “I guess there’s no way I’m not going back to Asgard with you, huh?”
You shook your head and sent a stream of light to his hands that formed a bind around his wrists you knew he could never break – even with all his little magic tricks.
Loki sighed deeply. “I think you owe me now. I mean, I’m letting you get the satisfaction from keeping me tied up, sooooo.... I think I get to tell everyone your secret.”
You quickly tackled him to the floor and put a hand on his mouth, but he still yelled out, “Shme’s amfraid omf dmumcks!”
“What did she say?”
“He said she’s afraid of something.”
“No, I think he said her birthday’s in May.”
“And why would she tackle him for telling us her birthday?”
“I think he said...she’s afraid of ducks.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Wait-”
You hung your head in resignation and lifted your hands from Loki’s mouth but stayed straddling his hips.
“You happy?”
“Very.” Loki nodded excitedly like a child being offered ice cream.
“I hate you.” you said through gritted teeth.
You got off of him and pulled him up by the hair. You ignored his pained yelps and simply punched him in the stomach – you didn’t need your powers to almost break a rib.
You rolled your eyes at the muffled snickers coming from the Avengers.
“You’re afraid of ducks?”
“Ducks? Really?”
“Like the little yellow birds?”
“That is...possibly the best thing I’ve heard in my life.”
“Let me get this straight – a feared supervillain is afraid of ducks?”
“This is amazing.”
You dragged Loki with you as you walked towards the edge of the roof. The Avengers stopped laughing for a split second when they thought you were about to walk off the roof with Loki in your grip, but instead you and Loki both disappeared in a flash of light.
“I guess that’s dealt with.”
“Hehe. Ducks.”
-----
You dragged Loki through the hallways of the palace, entirely ready to drop him at Odin’s feet and step on him as you walked away. Of course, Loki had to get in some final snarky comments.
You kicked open the grand doors to the throne room and spotted Odin sitting in his chair and he stood at the sight of you storming in with Loki in tow.
“You enjoyed that.”
“You screamed ‘she’s afraid of ducks’ in front of a bunch of superheroes.”
“You tackled me.” he said with a smile.
“You deserved worse.”
You threw Loki to the ground at the base of the stairs leading to Odin’s throne.
“Well done, Lightwitch. Your payment will be forthcoming. Apologies for the inconvenience.”
You nodded at Odin and turned to walk away.
“Same time next century?” Loki called out.
You waited a bit before responding, “As long as I’m still getting paid.”
“Maybe I’ll tell them about the horse next time.”
Without missing a beat, you threw up a middle finger behind you and stormed out of the room.
-----
“Why are you all here to deliver a file?” Fury said as he sat down behind his desk and began to read through the file the Avengers had compiled with everything they knew about you.
“No reason.” Tony said with a smirk.
“Lightwitch...Loki’s personal retrieval agent...unknown allegiances...” Fury kept reading down the page and nodding along.
But he paused at the last line.
“...Afraid of ducks?”
A few of Avengers completely abandoned professionalism and just burst out laughing at Fury’s deadpan tone.
“I don’t get paid enough for this.”
A/N: did i just make a villain that's afraid of ducks? yes i did.
Summary: After coming back from a mission, your boyfriend makes you feel good.
Pairing: boyfriend/Avenger Loki x Avenger female reader
Word count: TBA
Warnings: pure smut, P in V, it has been long time since I wrote smut so I would say, please be indulgent.
A/N: it has been a long time coming, but it's finally here. @thezombieprostitute Loki's little shower treat.
The mission has been successful. You were able to copy the Intel that was needed. It was an enough easy job, but it was always tiring. Exalerating but tiring. You decided to take a shower the time that your boyfriend was talking about, you don't really know what, with his brother and Steve. You were part of the Avengers but at a smaller level. You arrived here with hard work, but it was the fact that you were dating a God that made you able to stay in the tower. You had moved in with Loki only a few months ago. Everybody was nice and welcoming. It just felt a bit strange to meet people that you admired for so long.
You entered the shower, letting the hot water run on your body until your boyfriend came to join you. He kissed the back of your head.
"You did so great today. You were magnificent."
He let his fingers trace your body. It always felt like if he was learning it over and over again. His left hand found your breast while the other descended between your legs, making you open them a little bit wider for him. He started with only one finger. You bite your lip at the intrusion. When he finally had you where he wanted, he added a second one. Your breath became heavier, and you could not stop yourself from moaning while he played with your nipple, rubbing it between his fingers. The slow movements were making you unhinged against your boyfriend. You were trying to find more friction. You finally came, letting the bind break inside of you. He smiled, hearing you say his name in desperation before bending you. Your hands found the tiles in front of you. You did not have time to realise what was happening that he was already inside you, bottoming out. He felt your body shiver as the sensation. You wiggle to have him take you deeper. You were always so eager to have him. He took his time despite feeling your desperation. He kissed your shoulders.
Your second orgsams recked you. It felt ever more powerful than the first one. He continues to trust inside you before turning you. He made you jump, embracing your legs around his waist. You kissed you, gripping his hair when he finally moved again.
"It feels so good."
"Yes, it does, doesn't it?"
He looked at you like if you were one of the seven wonders.
"You look so pretty for me."
He kissed your cheel before kissing your neck, nibbling on it.
Your legs tightened a little bit around him, making it possible for you to push yourself even more aginst him.
"You take me so well. You were really made for me."
You let his name fall of your lips, desperation in your voice.
"I know, I know."
He kissed the side of your head.
"You are doing so good. Are you going to come for me?"
"I want... I want you to come with me."
"I will my love."
He took him a few more trusts. You could feel the sloppiness of his trust. When he came inside you with your name falling from his lips to your mouth, you squeezed him like never before. He looks at you, panting while you caress his cheek.
After a proper ahower, he helped you dry and get dressed for bed. He knew that after a mission, the only thing that you wanted was a quiet time, watching movies or reading or just being with him really. He brought some snacks and your favourite drink while you get under the cover.
"Miam Miam. You are the best boyfriend."
He kept you in his arms, your head on his chest with your hand caressing him. You took a bite of the snickers before feeding him. He knew that it was something that he would never get tired of. Seeing you like this snuggling against him.
Warnings: smoking lol, mentions of a fight, possessive Loki, making up, does this qualify for hurt/comfort? it might
A/N: Loki forgets his manners when it comes to his darling but eh, I forgive him | divider credit: anitalenia
You were supposed to have quit but after yesterday, you found yourself out on the balcony alone; ignoring Stark’s party, smoking, lost deep in thought.
The events of yesterday? Loki and you got into a stupid fight.
Sometimes the two of you bickered but whatever went down yesterday was different. It was so much worse. Deplorable. You’d never raised your voices at each other like that. For a moment you thought that was it, that you’d break up on the spot.
You were so pissed that you ended up grabbing your leather jacket and stormed out, just to put an end to the screaming. Walking down the street, you realized you still had a pack of cigarettes in your pocket so you thought screw it and lit one up. It seemed you were reverting back to your bad habits. Caught in the web of your old vices. But desperate times call for desperate measures so you refuse to condemn yourself for slipping up.
If Loki knew you were smoking again, it’d probably start another fight. You couldn’t get yourself to care about it though when you hadn’t even seen him today. Actually you hadn’t seen him at all since your fight. When you got back to your place yesterday he wasn’t there anymore.
Maybe he finally realized you weren’t worth the trouble. Maybe you did break up yesterday. Shit.
To make matters worse you were supposed to be at the party together today. A sort of debut, going public with your relationship. You’ve done a pretty good job of keeping things low key so far – to the rest of the team it just looked like you were very close friends – however you both agreed it was time to stop hiding.
Now you had no idea where you stood. Would he even show up?
Sighing, you put out your cigarette and returned inside to the party. The loud music from the speakers enveloped you as you moved through the bustling crowd on your way to the bar. If Loki wasn’t showing up, you’d find solace in the bottom of a glass.
“Y/n, how about a dance?” One of Stark’s friends crossed your path. You’d seen him at these parties before but you couldn’t remember his name for the life of you.
You looked around. No Loki in sight still. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced a smile. “You know what? Sure,”
He beamed as he led you to the dance floor with your arms intertwined.
You hoped this would make you stop thinking about Loki. At least momentarily. You hated feeling this worried, this anxious. Unsure of what was going on with you two. It was torture.
That hope got shattered as soon as you arrived on the dance floor and the song changed to your song. You and Loki’s song. The universe had a sick sense of humor. There was no chance you’d get him off your mind now. At all.
It was a slower song so Stark’s friend pulled you in close and you started slow dancing. You couldn’t shake the feeling of how wrong it felt to be in the arms of someone other than Loki. You tried to appear as if you were enjoying yourself, in order to not offend this guy but really you felt miserable.
“She’s with me,” Loki’s voice sounded. Trust the god to sneak up on you out of nowhere.
Stark’s friend let go of you and cleared his throat awkwardly. You gave him an apologetic look. “I’ll see you around,” He said before he walked away. You understood why. Loki’s aura gave no room for arguing.
“He can dream,” Loki muttered as he grabbed you, possessively pulling you close with his hand splayed over your lower back, making your breath hitch slightly. Your arms quickly snaked around his neck as he started to sway with you, the action as natural as breathing.
“I don’t think you get to do that,” You said, slightly annoyed. Even though you were happy to be in Loki’s arms, you still had your pride. He didn’t get to just waltz in and pretend like everything was okay between you two. Hell, there’s nothing you hate more than pretenses.
Loki chuckled. “You are mine, are you not? Besides, who do you think requested this song?”
“I should’ve known,” You sighed, shaking your head. But your resolve was quickly softening. He was trying. This was his contorted attempt to fix things. You pulled him closer.
“I’m sorry,” He whispered softly as he nuzzled your hair, “for yesterday.”
“I’m sorry too.” You admitted. You were. Whatever happened yesterday, you never wanted a repeat of it. He probably didn’t either.
“You smell like smoke.” He mentioned disapprovingly as he lifted his head.
“You smell like bad decisions.” You shot back, making him grin.
“Now, don’t lie. I know you love this cologne.”
“Exactly,” You said as you placed your head on his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I think we’re gonna have to talk it through beyond just saying sorry,” You pointed out.
“I agree but it can wait until later, can it not?”
He spun you around and pressed your back to his chest as he moved with you to the sensual beat. “Look, everyone’s looking,” He whispered in your ear, amused. You blushed as you saw Nat and Wanda smirking at you and Tony raise his glass your way.
Loki turned you back around to face him. “Come on, come on, come on, before the moment’s gone,” He sang along to the song playfully, grinning as he kept swaying you. You rolled your eyes at his antics. “Number one party anthem,” You sang along, unable to not smile too. He pulled you in for a sweet kiss and the room erupted into cheers.
Your Valentine stood you up so Loki decides to take matters into his own hands.
Wordcount: 2674
Pairing: Loki x f!reader
Warnings: friends to lovers, reader being clueless, surprises, hurt/comfort, Loki being a sweetheart
A/N: Very much 'if he wanted to he would'.
Dividers by the talented firefly-graphics.
Your feet carry you through the hallway with rapid strides when you get back to the tower. You need to get to your room. Hide from the embarrassment from today, forget what happened. Some tears already broke loose earlier, no doubt melting away the heavy layered mascara on your eyelashes. There were more threatening to spill down your cheeks as you quickened your pace.
“Y/n?” Loki calls out as you pass him in the hallway. A brief glance at the state of you right now is enough to set off alarm bells in his head.
You can’t stop though, by the time you’re at the door of your room you’re practically running. Shutting the door behind you, you collapse on the floor in front of your bed, leaning against the frame.
Dressed to the nines, sobbing because you got ditched isn’t how you thought today would go. No, actually you didn't get ditched, he didn't even show up - this guy who you had been dating casually - and he was the one who suggested going out today in the first place.
There’s a soft knock at your door and you know it’s Loki. He lets himself in, his posture apprehensive as he closes the door delicately.
“What happened?” His tone is gentle and cautious.
“He stood me up,” You sniff, wiping away the tears on your cheeks as you stare at the wall.
“He what?” Loki asks sharply. He knew you'd be going out for a date today as you babbled about it to him in excitement when the plans were made. And he was happy for you, truly, even if it stirred up feelings of jealousy.
“He said he had to ‘stay late at work’. I sat there like an idiot waiting for half an hour until he even remembered to let me know. I've never been so embarrassed in my life,” You burst into tears again and Loki’s eyes soften. “I’m terribly sorry, y/n,”
“The waitress asked me to give up the table three times and I kept telling her he’d be there,” You croak.
“No, that simply won’t do,” He says suddenly. The confusion is enough to make your crying quiet and draw your eyes to his face, meeting his gaze. “What?” Your voice sounds nasally as you question him. You really need a tissue.
“Fix your make up, I’m taking you out,” He commands, there’s barely any room for arguing but you don’t think he thought this through.
“Loki, I appreciate it but there's no way we'll get in anywhere without a reservation today,”
“I did not consider that- No matter, just get ready, I'll be back,” He says confidently before leaving your room in a hurry.
You have no idea what the God of Mischief is plotting but you get up from the floor and walk to your bathroom. Your cheeks redden as you see yourself in the mirror and realize that's what Loki saw. You look like a mess. Pathetic. No wonder he offered to take you out, he is actively pitying you.
You clip up your hair to keep it away from your face and wash off the ruined make up. Part of you wants to go to Loki and tell him not to bother. But what's the alternative? You spend the rest of the evening wallowing in self pity?
You were sure of one thing; you'd never see that guy again. And you and Loki are friends. Friends can spend Valentine's together. Right…?
Things could get complicated though. You realized a long time ago you had feelings for Loki that go way beyond friendship. As you never got any indication of Loki returning your feelings, you never made a move of letting him know about yours. But this could very well bring those feelings out more, make them stronger.
It's fine. Just two friends, hanging out and it happens to be V Day. You tried to calm yourself down as you reapplied your makeup.
Loki shows up to get you a little while later just as promised. He knocks on your door and you open it to reveal him standing there in an exquisitely tailored green suit, one of his arms placed behind his back.
“You look fancy,” You comment as you eye him up and down.
“I dress for the occasion,” He smirks proudly.
“Am I underdressed?” You look down at your clothes.
“No, darling, you look perfect,” He reassures you. Warmth spreads through your chest from the pet name and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are now tinged with a soft blush.
“I’m gonna change, give me a second,” You decide, slamming the door in his face.
“I suggest that little green number!” You hear him yell from the other side of the door as you walk to your closet. Your face feels like it’s on fire.
This is going to be a problem, isn’t it? Two minutes into your hang out and you’re already blushing and almost tripping over your feet as you pull off your clothes in a haste. You stare at the little green dress in your closet. If you wear that does it give off date vibes? Wait, is this a date? Surely not, he didn’t say it was a date. Besides he’s seen you in that dress at Stark’s parties so it’s not like it’s that weird if you wear it.
You open the door in your new outfit and notice Loki is still standing in the same pose as before, arm still behind his back. His eyes trail over you appreciatively.
“What’s with your arm?” You furrow your eyebrows.
“Oh, that. Had you not slammed the door in my face, I would’ve been able to give it to you earlier,” He replies amused, moving his arm in front of him and holding out a bouquet of your favorite flowers. “Happy Valentine’s day, y/n,”
You’re pretty sure your feelings just skyrocketed. Oh yeah, this is going to be a mess. A big ‘unrequited love heartbreak;eating your feelings with ice cream’ mess. That’s a problem for later though, right now you’re going to enjoy whatever this is with Loki. Everything in due time.
“I… Thank you,” You say as you take the flowers. Loki intertwines your arms and leads you to one of the extra rooms in the tower.
“What are we doing- I mean where are we going?”
“You were right, we probably wouldn’t have gotten into a restaurant, therefore I brought a restaurant to us,” He grins as he opens the door revealing the set up. The usually empty room now has a table covered with a green napery in the middle of it, paired with two chairs. All around it’s lined with dozens of candles that cast a soft warm glow. And the big window stretching across the wall on the side gives you a stunning view of New York’s lit up skyscrapers.
“How did you…”
“A God has his ways, darling,” He smiles mysteriously. “After you,” He gestures to the room.
You walk in, plopping the bouquet into the vase on the table. He really thought of everything. The two of you take your seats and it turns out the evening’s surprises are far from over as a duplicate of Loki, dressed in a waiter outfit walks into the room.
“Good evening, I'll be your waiter for the day, my name is Loki. Can I get you started with drinks?” He says as he places menus in front of you. You cover your mouth to stop your laugh as your eyes shoot from Loki to his duplicate and back a few times.
“Now darling, that’s not very ladylike of you,” Loki scolds you playfully.
“My apologies,” You force down your laughter and turn to his duplicate. “Just water, please- thank you,” You order softly. Knowing of this particular power of Loki’s was much different than experiencing it first hand. It’s very resourceful though, you have to hand it to him.
“I'll have something stronger, scotch,” Even as he orders from his own duplicate his voice sounds absolutely sinful. You squeeze your thighs together as his husky voice washes over you. He’s going to be the death of you.
“Excellent choices, I’ll be right back with that,” The duplicate leaves the room.
“You are unbelievable,” You smile at Loki.
“So I’ve been told, however the tone in which it’s been said was much different,” He tilts his head returning your smile as he leans back in his seat. “I do hope you find someone who treats you better, y/n, he’s an idiot.” He adds.
“Yeah… That’s definitely done now,” You nod.
“Good, you deserve only the best,” He says sincerity taking over his voice.
You don’t know what to say to that but thankfully you are saved as the duplicate returns with a waiter platter. He even has a towel draped over his arm. You push back the giggles threatening to escape you. Yes, the whole thing is a bit silly but it’s also ridiculously sweet.
“Here you are,” The duplicate says as he places your water on the table. “And from the gentleman at the bar,” He adds, placing a glass of scotch by the water before he points to the wall behind you. You turn around in your seat only to be met with an illusion of a bar that definitely wasn’t there before. Another version of Loki sits there smiling at you. He is the picture of temptation as he winks at you before the illusion disappears in a green glow and you turn back to Loki.
“In case you change your mind,” Loki says softly then takes a sip of his scotch.
“And has the madam made a choice?” The duplicate prompts.
“Oh!” You hadn’t even looked at the menu yet. You open it and scan over the writing. It has the same dish written on it over and over and over. “There is one single thing on this menu.”
“Yes, Chef's dish… Rather remarkable if I do say so myself,” The duplicate smirks.
“Right, of course… I suppose I'll have the Chef's dish,” You laugh.
“Excellent choice! Chef will be elated!” The duplicate exclaims. It's getting increasingly difficult to not turn into a mess of giggles from Loki's theatrics.
“The same for me, thank you,” Loki says smoothly.
The duplicate gives the two of you a curt nod before he disappears out of the room again.
“Are you enjoying this?” You laugh, unable to keep it in, though you tried.
“Don’t lie and tell me it does not amuse you,” He replies smugly.
“Oh, quite the opposite,”
“That’s all I could hope for,”
The duplicate returns with your dishes and Loki and you dig into your meal. It’s absolutely delicious and you find out it's some Asgardian dish his mother used to secretly make for him, then eventually taught him how to make it so he cooked it himself today. Of course, he did. The god has no flaws apparently. Even his cooking is divine.
The two of you talk just like you normally do. About anything and everything. You laugh at the countless jokes he cracks and you even delve into telling embarrassing stories from previous dates and relationships. He teases you about your music taste insisting he will introduce you to better music and you roll your eyes playfully at him. You end up drinking that first glass of scotch and another and as the hours in Loki’s company fly by, you forget all about how you got stood up.
“Let's go up!” Loki suddenly suggests.
“Up? Up where?” You laugh at his sudden outburst.
“The roof!” He laughs too.
“What are we gonna do on the roof?! Tony doesn’t even like people going up there!” You protest incredulously.
“Forget Stark! Come on, let’s go!" He says.
When you stand up your feet meet the ground briefly before you are swooped up by Loki bridal style.
“What are you doing?!” You squeak.
“You take too long,” He offers as he carries you to the elevator. You peek up at him occasionally and one time catch a glimpse of a smirk. How does he look pretty from every angle?
He only puts you down when you’re actually on the roof. You try not to think about how much you liked being in his arms. How much you like him. You both lean on the railing, falling into a comfortable silence as you watch the stars. After awhile the cold starts to get to you and Loki notices your shivering. ‘The little green number’ as he called it does little to keep you warm.
“Are you cold?” He quirks an eyebrow at you as he turns his head to look at you.
“No,” You mutter.
He rolls his eyes and takes off his suit jacket draping it over your shoulders and pulls you into his embrace, pressing your back to his chest. For a moment you forget how to even breathe as butterflies erupt in your stomach.
“Liar,” He says in a low whisper, the word sounding almost fond as he holds you close, fanning the flames of your desire.
“Is this a date?” You blurt out.
You feel his chest move as he chuckles. Oh, god. He’s laughing at you. You totally took this the wrong way, didn’t you? You stare ahead at the skyscrapers.
“Were you under the impression it wasn't?” He wonders when his laughter fades.
“Well I… don’t know,” You mumble. You honestly don’t know what to think. With a tendency to take things the wrong way but also miss social cues, you never knew how to assess situations.
He turns you around to face him. “Let me ease your doubts then,” His voice is all husky.
He pulls you closer to him by your hips and your breath hitches before he cups your cheeks and kisses you. In your mind simultaneously there’s fireworks going off around you and the world has stopped completely for a moment. His lips are soft and the way he’s kissing you is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. Forget butterflies in your stomach, it’s not even a zoo, whatever you’re feeling is like wildlife, raw and primal.
And then he runs his tongue over your bottom lip asking for entrance and you know you’re ruined for any other man. You pull him closer by his tie as your kiss becomes more heated. Eventually the two of you pull away to catch your breaths.
“Well… that happened,” You say your voice coming out slightly more high pitched than usual. Loki gives you a mirthful look.
“Sooooo… what are we?” You ask when he gives no indication of speaking anytime soon. It's a cliché question but necessary. You want things cleared up. You need things cleared up.
“Oh, you truly are clueless, aren’t you? I’ve been trying to court you for a year,”
“You what?!” The shock is evident on your face. How? When? What? …WHAT?
“And here I was thinking you were rejecting my advances!” He laughs heartily.
“WHEN DID YOU TRY TO COURT ME, LOKI?”
“Well there was that time when…” He goes off on a tangent of listing every single time he’s made a move. You feel like an idiot. Looking back, it’s so obvious.
“As for what we are, darling… Would you be my valentine, every day?”
You scrunch your face. “That is the most awful, over the top, overtly sweet thing I have ever heard fall from your lips…” You pause. “Absolutely, I will,” You grin.
He rubs his forehead as he gives you an exasperated but amused look.
“Better start planning next year’s Valentine’s day date, Mischief, gonna be hard to top this one,”
“Oh no, no, no, you’re planning the next one,” He smirks.
“No way, I’ve seen what you can do, you can’t expect me to-” He cuts you off with another kiss pulling you back into that bliss, making your head spin. “Alright.” You say once he pulls away.
“Alright?”
“Alright!”
A/N: Hope you liked your date with Loki, happy Valentine's x
a/n: happy spring!! ... pun intended || stunning ivy dividers by @firefly-graphics <3
You were spending your time like you usually did when you were free of work and chores, or were ignoring that pile of laundry that was growing at a steady rate – doom scrolling, because sometimes the burnout took over and even though you knew the endless videos and bombarding your brain with useless information and stimuli didn’t give it an actual break, it was a bad habit you had a hard time breaking.
What you really wished for was to return to your hobbies, only you didn’t think that’d happen anytime soon.
“Enough of that,” a pale hand gently took your phone right out of your hand, placing it onto your nightstand.
“How the hell did you get in?” You squinted at Loki, sitting up on your bed.
“Really? After all this time? As if I ever needed a key to begin with. Do you forget your bedroom has no working lock?” The God of Mischief said, feigning nonchalance just for the sake of theatrics before the corners of his lips graced you with a soft smile.
You thought back to your afternoon, replaying what you did before he got here.
“I never locked the front door, did I?” You deadpanned, one more mistake away from banging your head against the wall. Your fatigue had started manifesting in peculiar ways – forgetting things like leaving car keys on your car door, leaving your house unlocked and even trying to put the tea kettle into the cupboard… Not that Loki wasn’t perfectly capable of invading your space either way but he loved to take note of the easy human access you provided.
“Such an unsound habit really.” Loki teased you, shaking his head with a huge grin plastered on his face. “Although that’s not why I’m here. We’re going somewhere. No phone allowed. Oh and–” He conjured a glass of colorless liquid in his hand, shoving it into yours. “Drink up.”
“Is it vodka?” You smiled sweetly.
“Ha. No.” He said flatly. “It’s water, you dehydrated… mortal.”
“Only you could make mortal sound like an insult.” You snorted before gulping down the water.
“It’s not.” Loki said defensively, nodding as you put the glass down. “Good girl,” he smiled, “now, away we go.” He grabbed your hand pulling you up on your feet.
“Will you at least give me the decency of telling me where we’re going?” You complained. Loki chuckled as he linked your arms, a green glow of his magic dressing both of you into something appropriate for the outing.
“I think you know the answer to that, however let me assure you, you’ll love it.”
“That’s your ego speaking.” You muttered.
–
“So… was it my ego speaking?” Loki raised an eyebrow as the two of you sat in a secluded spot, right by a small natural waterfall. Moss covered rocks and greenery spanned the space around you. Tree branches extended up into the pale blue sky, full of puffy, paper white clouds.
The chirping of birds and the sound of water hitting the pool beneath offered a peaceful background noise to your little talk and paint session.
You dipped your paintbrush into green paint again. Everything you wanted to say rushed through your mind at once and yet all that made it out were three words.
“Thank you, Loki.”
Loki softened as if understanding what you really meant by those simple words.
“Darling, I’m always there. Just call. You don’t need a reason.” He reassured you. “Now finish up your masterpiece, I rather fancy a dip right now, don’t you?” He smirked.
Warnings: Tipsy Reader, soft possessive Loki, implied drinking
Words: 299 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles
Prompt: June 1 Joy To The World - Three Dog Night/ “And he always had some mighty fine wine.”
The moment you open the door, Loki knew you’d been drinking.
Not from the clumsy way you nudged the door shut, nor from the bright smile that bloomed across your face when you found him waiting. No, it was the smell: sweet, heavy clinging to you.
“You smell like a tavern,” he started brow raised.
You gasped, offended. “I do not.”
“You smell like Volstagg’s cellar.”
“Exactly.” You crossed the room with great determination and very little grace, catching yourself on his shoulders when the floor attempted treachery. “Volstagg said it was special.”
Loki’s hands settled at your waist before you could sway too far. “Volstagg says that about anything poured into a goblet.”
“It was very fine whine.”
His mouth twitched. “Yes, he always did have some mighty fine wine.”
You beamed and promptly wound yourself around him like ivy, arms over his shoulders, fingers sliding into his hair, knee nudging between his thighs as if you meant to climb him entirely.
“Affectionate tonight, aren’t we?” he murmured.
“I missed you.”
“You saw me at supper.”
“That was ages ago.” Your hands wandered down his chest, searching for skin and finding only fastenings. You frowned at them. “Why do you wear so many… obstacles?”
“For moments precisely like this.”
You tugged again, growing frustrated when the clasp refused to yield. Loki laughed softly, catching your wrists before you could rip anything.
“Want to lay down before you fall down?”
“I am seducing you.”
“You are losing a battle with buttons.”
He drew you to bed, you went willingly, already melting against him.
“Mean,” you mumbled.
Loki huffed a laugh, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You will not think me mean come morning, love, when I am the one nursing you through the consequences with a water tankard.”
A/N: sorry it’s been so long since I’ve posted, I’ve been so busy with work and applying to grad school but I got in!! Here’s a quick celebratory one shot for you freaks <3
Summary: when you’re exposed to a classified bioweapon, Loki assists with relieving your symptoms.
Warnings: p in v, unprotected sex (do not do that), creampie, dubious consent if you squint, ye olde sex pollen fic

Your fingers twisted themselves into the thick fabric of your comforter, your opposite forearm burning with the effort of mercilessly working your clit.
After damn near half an hour of desperate and fruitless attempts at achieving relief, you were ready to sob.
You knew messing around in the Tower’s lab after a full day’s work was a bad idea but you had been so close to a breakthrough in your work with Dr. Banner that you convinced yourself you could push through the exhaustion.
Until you had shattered a specimen jar and exposed yourself to whatever the hell was in it.
It started with your heart rate rapidly increasing, followed by hot flashes and an incessant throbbing between your legs.
But despite your best efforts, it would. Not. Stop.
You continued to rub harsh circles over your clit, your back arching off your mattress as that familiar tension began to build low in your stomach.
And quickly dissipated.
Throwing open your nightstand drawer, you frantically dug through it in search of your vibrator, tossing various items haphazardly out of the way before finally spotting the bright pink silicone. You switched it on and quickly started working your aching clit, biting down on your lip at the contact. Your hips undulated unconsciously as you chased a climax that wouldn’t arrive.
Tears slipped down your face, a sob escaping your swollen lips. You rubbed your thighs together as you lay there, staring up at the ceiling and ready to scream. Despite your best efforts, your body felt achingly empty and your nerves were beyond raw.
It was well passed midnight at this point and you were out of viable options.
You knew in the back of your mind who would still be awake at this hour.
Just ask him, you internally scolded yourself.
Absolutely not. I can’t.
Why not?
You paused, realizing you didn’t actually have a reason.
Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself to sit up and pull on a rumpled t shirt from your bedroom floor, hissing between your teeth at the sensation of the cotton fabric against your overly sensitive nipples. You debated throwing your underwear back on for the sake of decency but decided against it, already overwhelmed by the oversized shirt.
Slipping out of your room and into the dark hall, you made your way to the all-too-familiar door.
Knocking quietly, you rubbed your thighs together and silently begged him to answer. An overstimulated whine escaped you as your shirt clung to the layer of sweat that had gathered on your skin, your arousal flushing your entire body with heat.
Just as you were about to knock again, you heard his footsteps on the other side of the door before it finally opened, revealing his towering figure.
“Loki, I’m—“
“You caught it too?” he interrupted, his voice low and rough. The sound made your core clench.
“I— what?” you asked, your confusion adding to your frustration.
Looking up at him, you finally noticed his disheveled state. His normally sleek hair was mussed, his face was flushed, and his breathing bordered on panting.
“Banner’s specimen. It got to you as well,” he stated plainly, his dark gaze locked on yours.
Your eyes dragged down the length of his body, taking in his shirtless torso and the hardened length straining against the fabric of his sweatpants, mouth beginning to water at the sight.
Meeting his eyes once more, you nodded frantically.
“Have you been able to…?” he trailed off, his breathing growing more erratic.
You shook your head, your thighs squeezing together to contain the slickness between them.
He opened his door just wide enough for you to enter and you quickly pushed your way inside. Before you could even turn around, his hands were on your hips, pressing you flush against his chest as he walked you backward against the door, pinning you against it.
You damn near keened as his mouth found your neck, licking and sucking your overly sensitive skin. Your back arched, pressing your chest up against his, drawing a husky groan from him.
“I won’t be able to stop,” he warned, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“Please just give it to me,” you whined, tears beginning to gather in the corner of your eyes. He grunted and hiked your thighs up and around his hips, picking you up as though you weighed nothing before walking you to the bed.
His large form pressed you down into the mattress, his stiff cock brushing your thigh. You couldn’t help but moan as his mouth met yours, his tongue already working expertly against your own.
Your hips grinding together, you slid your hands up into his hair and pulled and felt him twitch in his pants. His hands found the hem of your shirt and yanked it up over your head, the sight of your exposed body drawing a groan from him. His head immediately dipped down to your chest to suck harshly on your aching nipples.
“Loki!” you gasped, back arching off the mattress.
He slid his free hand down to his waistband, pushing his sweats down his hips to expose his throbbing length, thick and flushed with need. He released your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop and looked down at your dripping pussy, pumping himself desperately.
“You’re fucking drenched,” he grunted, slapping his tip on your swollen cunt.
“Just shut up and fuck me, please,” you whined, lifting your hips up to give him access.
Too desperate to come up with a quip, he pulled your knees up to rest on his broad shoulders before slamming his full length into your pussy. A lewd, high pitched moan escaped your lips as his thick cock stretched you open, arching yourself up into him for the umpteenth time.
You grabbed a pillow from beside you, pressing it against your face to stifle your cries of pleasure as he thrust into you, finally starting to relieve the ache.
Reaching one hand down between your bodies, you rubbed tight circles over your clit, pussy clenching around him. He slapped your hand away, replacing your fingers with his own. You were too far gone to snap at him for it. Your eyes rolled back as his tip brushed against your cervix ever so slightly.
“Fuck-,” he grunted, his breathing heavy.
Shifting his angle, he pulled your knees from his shoulders and pressed them up against your chest and hooked his legs around your thighs, folding you into a mating press.
His hips continue to piston into your own, the new position making your vision swim and your tits bounce with every thrust.
“Holy shit, Loki,” you gasped, throwing your head back against the sheets.
That familiar tension began building in your abdomen once more, your breathing becoming shallow as he pushed you closer to the edge. His pace quickened and you knew he was close behind you.
“Breathe through it,” he instructed between grunts of pleasure, his thrusts growing impossibly deeper.
“I c-can’t, I’m gunna- ah!”
“I’ve got you, my love, just breathe. I’ve always got you.”
You did as he said, your core clenching tighter around his thick cock as his hips rolled into yours. His fingers returned to circling your swollen clit, the friction finally pushing you over the edge.
Your body arched up as you came, pussy pulsing around his dick as you cried out and tears rolled down your flushed cheeks. He groaned above you as he spilled himself inside, your orgasm only intensifying at the feeling of his hot spend coating your cunt with every thrust as he helped you ride it out.
Releasing your legs, he collapsed on top of you, his breathing deep and skin warm against yours. You wrapped your legs around him, keeping him locked in place as you damn near sobbed in relief.
Loki’s eyes met yours, the concern evident on his face.
“Are you alright, darling?”
You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck.
“I’m okay, I just… need a second.”
“I’m here,” he mumbled softly, tucking his face into the crook of your neck.
The two of you stayed like that for several silent minutes, catching your breath and enjoying the feeling of your bodies still pressed together.
When your heart rate finally slowed, he gently eased himself out of you, leaving you feeling empty at the loss of contact. He stood and you looked up at him quizzically.
“I’m just going to get you cleaned up, I’ll be right back,” he chuckled.
You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to revel in the relief he had just granted you, your body finally relaxing.
He return with a damp cloth and began gently cleaning the mess you had made together, his hands warm and comforting on your skin.
“You know, if you wanted me to fuck you, you had only asked. Infecting both of us with alien pollen is a bit dramatic, darling.”
You threw a pillow at him halfheartedly, too spent to react to his goading.
- ̗̀ in which trying to celebrate loki's birthday takes several wrong turns. ̖́-
pairing: loki/gn!reader | tag(s): established relationship. implied that reader has anxiety. loki is... going soft??? not beta'd. | warnings: n/a? ask to tag. | wc: 2.2k-ish | a/n: happy *squints at smudged writing* five days after your birthday loki | divider by: @/strangergraphics
it’s the middle of the week during winter, when temperatures had just dipped, and there was a light tap tap against the bedroom window as either rain or sleet - maybe both - came down from the sky. the sun had crested, slowly, over the horizon, like it was refusing to be ignored. the rays hit your face, warm but impossibly bright contrasting against the chill.
loki rose first. he always did. the bed responded, the slight dip and movement of comforters switching your mind from hazily awake to barely awake. your eyes slipped open just in time to catch the peripheral image of loki leaning over, pressing a kiss to your temple.
“sleep. i’ll be back soon,” is all he says.
your brow furrows at his promise. you couldn’t remember him mentioning that he needed to go anywhere today. but before you could sit up to question him, the bedroom door clicked closed.
he was gone.
you give yourself another fifteen minutes before you pry yourself from the warm bed. whatever had pulled loki’s attention seemed to demand his full morning. it was disappointing, you thought, given what the day was. looking on the bright side of things, though, loki being away gave you plenty of time to actually put your plan for the day in action.
the day.
it had been marked in your planner since the day you had bought it:
loki’s bday, written in ink, highlighted and surrounded with stars and hearts.
the planner caught more dates as the year progressed—dinners, anniversaries, meetings, random lunches. all important in their own way, but only a few of them sparked your excitement that same way that birthdays did. there was something special in dedicating a day to celebrating a loved one, no matter how many years it had been, that lit you up from the inside.
you were a sentimental person—in a way that it may have come off as insincere, if someone didn’t know better. you studied, made mental notes, remembered things about the people you cared about. it wasn’t normal, but it was you—you, who had known the feeling of someone not remembering. of a birthday being silent. of a gift that didn’t mean much to you, or the person who gave it to you.
the to-do ran through your mind once your feet hit the hardwood floor:
preheat the oven, gather the supplies, start a shower…
things that you had been planning for weeks in order to make the day everything you thought it should be.
the oven heats perfectly—then stops.
without a reason.
your shower, that never had problems before, ran cold.
and the flour… the flour was a half-cup less than what the recipe called for.
murphy, that bastard, and his law.
by the time you regain control over what’s happening (a few bad words aimed at the oven, mended by overwhelming apologies aimed towards the inanimate object, and a smile because you know loki would’ve laughed at the interaction; a haphazard guess at how to ratio the ingredients to make it work) the clock is ticking closer to noon.
he’s been gone longer than you would’ve guessed.
thankfully, when you pull the cake out it’s in one piece, at least—if not a little deflated and lopsided.
then like magic, he’s back. the notes of loki’s reappearance float through the house, reaching you in the kitchen. first: the sound of the solid front door shutting closed, then soft clunk of his boots in the landing in the foyer after he unlaces them. then, finally, the rustling of brushing snow off of his cloak before hanging it up.
after a moment’s silence, he calls your name. he tends to prefer it over sweet nicknames, and he’s long since grown used to your presence—could practically feel it the same as his own. the responding silence is enough to prompt his investigating footsteps. they ring out, steady and heavy throughout the home. it only takes a few before he’s standing at the threshold of the kitchen.
he looks annoyingly good. hair tied back, with a few snowflakes clinging to the strands that fall around his face. black clothes, well fitting in a way that says he’s been on business, but familiar enough that the business wasn’t important.
you’re overly aware of the streak of flour on your face. on your sleeves. down the front of your shirt.
he doesn’t say anything at first. he just raises a brow, careful as always. if he feels any unease at walking onto a battlefield that once was his put-together kitchen, it doesn’t show.
“hey,” you say. it sounds the same way the cake looks—flat and a little defeated. the corner of his mouth twitches upward.
instead, he walks forward, and his hands cover yours - still clutching the warm baking pan that houses the unfrosted chocolate cake. he’s still chilled from the outside, like he chose to walk the rest of the way home.
“staying busy?” he asks. it’s quizzical, and light - testing the mood that’s settled over the kitchen.
“happy birthday,” you blurt out, before any other explanation. you feel your heart fall in the same breath that he takes to observe the little cake in between you.
you prepare for him to say something clever, because he always has something clever to say—maybe something about the heat you could feel in your cheeks. or the small mountain of paper on the table, where you’d left the shapes of half cut-out stars that you’d return to after the cake had been frosted. the clumsy piles of bowls that littered the counter space.
but he doesn’t.
he just moves closer, unphased, stepping into your space as if the air around you didn’t feel wobbly.
“i suppose it is,” he responds. his voice warm, despite the flush on his cheeks from the wind.
“it was supposed to look better,” you mutter. loki gently pries the tin away from you, just in time for the palm of your heels to press against your eyes, quickly rubbing away the prickling feeling in their corners. “i had a whole thing planned, and it was supposed to be done before you came home and—”
the rambling explanation is cut off by the soft shushing noises from loki and the muffled thud of the bake pan sliding onto the counter. he takes you by the shoulders, one hand brushing back the hair at your forehead.
“hey, hey,” loki murmurs, trying to get your attention with an overly gentle tone. it works, because you stop trying to justify the mess you’ve conjured in your home and instead look up at him. “what was supposed to look better?”
“your birthday,” you say, almost exasperated by the confused look plastered on his face.
“my birthday,” he repeats slowly, like the notion is dawning on him for the first time. “you’re upset over my birthday?”
it’s not accusatory, even though you wish it was. it would be easier to bristle if his voice was harsh, if he spoke to you in the same tone that he used with everyone else—but he doesn’t. he speaks to you—always speaks to you—like he wants to understand. like he wants to know how your thoughts move so that he can move with them.
you shake your head no in response. it wasn’t the birthday itself - and you couldn’t even fathom a reason where the day would upset you - but the fact that it was manifesting so poorly in your hands.
“there was supposed to be cake. and decorations. and—”
“darling, i see a cake. and decorations.” he spares a glance towards the kitchen table, and the assortment of strings, ribbon, and paper - the sum of your morning’s work - that it’s collected.
“but it’s not put together—“
loki sighs. then he brushes his thumb across the curve of your cheek, his fingers still cool as he traces the path of a stray tear while wiping it away. he goes quiet again—the kind of quiet where you can tell he’s thinking before he speaks.
“little mortal,” he starts, voice hushed. the nickname had once been one that you thought of with contempt - a reminder of his lifespan versus yours - but now he speaks it with reverence, your face still held in his hands. “there have been entire centuries where no one has given today half as much thought as you have.”
the confession hangs in the air for a beat.
your mouth opens and closes, words stalling because the information didn’t make sense to you. one bad birthday was understandable - but centuries worth of missed birthdays?
“just because your efforts aren’t put together,” he continues, his words echoing your despair, “does not mean that they aren’t good.”
the rest of the evening is spent patching things up.
he punches holes through yellow construction paper while you mix together milk and cocoa—the smell of powdered sugar permeating the air. the room had turned silent, amicable despite the chaos that had plagued it earlier.
you’ve just started smearing spoonfuls of frosting onto the cake when it dawns on you that you haven’t asked where loki was earlier, and he hasn’t offered the information. so you ask.
his hands still their work on the paper - almost ready to become their final form of being threaded on a string - and you can see the way his jaw tenses. the way the muscle jumps, you’ve seen it enough, tells you that he’s working between telling a lie and telling the truth.
“i’m not one for celebration,” he finally says. for a long moment, you wonder if it’s going to be the only crumb of honesty that he feeds to you. even though he’s had every opportunity to walk out the door again since coming home, you can’t help but wonder if this small display that you’ve orchestrated is too much.
not what he wanted.
“i know,” you quietly respond. you glance up from the job you’d made of dolloping icing onto the cake, and loki’s gaze doesn’t meet yours yet. he’s watching the windowsill, but not really. he doesn’t look focused on anything in particular. you wait, gifting the silence for him to breathe in.
“celebration,” he continues, voice measured, “being celebrated—is a heavy weight. i knew you were excited. i didn’t want to disappoint.”
“did you think i’d forget? if you were gone all morning?”
he scoffs.
“well, no. perhaps. you have been known to sleep in well past noon.”
the jest in his voice is measured, doing enough work to soothe the line between your brow and the downturn of your frown.
“but i didn’t,” you prod. the spoon you had wielded is set down with a soft thud, the wooden table accepting the dripping icing like fate.
“no,” he agrees, solemnly. “the fates did not spare me today.”
your eyes stay on him, waiting. he’s met your gaze—his eyes are softer now. he’s still not completely with you, though. the tell is clear in the way his shoulders are still head high. you realize that while he’s calmed you from the anxiety about the evening, he’s veered away from his own feelings
“i was never going to be gone the entire day,” he finally settles on saying. “just long enough to figure out how to return.”
you’ve always known loki to be a complicated person.
when you both had made the conscious effort to make this, this conundrum of a relationship work, there was no grand exception. he was learning how to settle into a softness, to find his footing on ground that wouldn’t fall out from underneath him. you were learning how to let him, sometimes dancing around your own - admittedly emotional - displays of affection.
sometimes it took work to find the middle ground. it almost always involved the kitchen table, with its faithful wood, and the two of you seated across from each other.
“we don’t have to do anything grand,” you offer. loki huffs out a laugh—short, surprised. amused.
“no? what do you call this?” he asks, tapping the table with the paper stars he still holds in his hand.
the gesture isn’t enough to make you feel embarrassed, not harsh at all. rather, you shrug. sure, you’d been caught, but there wasn’t a regret.
“you’ve given me constellations before,” you reply. “i figured i could return the favor somehow.”
he pauses. considers.
you wonder if the memory is replaying in his head: a day, not so unlike today, cold, and ending with neither of you sleeping easily. hushed whispers, and then your bedroom had a heartbeat—a glittering, moving heartbreak made up of stars. then he’d tucked you closer to his side, whispering stories with names that sounded old. he spoke as if he were there when the constellations were made; you suppose maybe he was.
“i’d do it again.” he speaks it like it’s a promise.
you smile, nudging his foot with the tip of your toe. it’s not a smug declaration on his part, and you want to acknowledge it.
“so let me have this, laufeyson,” you say. balance within the house is slowly being restored, you think. loki could have his grand gestures of magic; you could rein the chaos in the kitchen.
he rolls his eyes, not entirely displeased, and leans across the table. his hand plucks the spoon from its resting spot and brings it to his lips in one smooth motion, tasting the frosting.
how does loki feel about people playing with his hair?🐍
people have tried.
like it's a conquest: who can get closest to loki? who can catch the prince with his guard down?
the key word is tried.
most don't make it past the initial reach. the flickering look in their eyes that alerts loki to their intent. it's in that same moment where loki decides how much of his effort is worth using—are they a threat, or simply an annoyance?
he knew early on that being touched was hardly about him. it was about who could try and who could succeed.
he wasn’t an open invitation. he wasn’t something to be proven. he did not allow hands on him as evidence of access.
he was a boundary not to be crossed.
so he stopped it. with the surgical efficiency that he held so naturally.
he was cold. clean. definitive.
but now, his hair is longer. kisses his trapezius, curls beautifully at the end.
with time came change.
with change came exception.
with you, it's not a game. you don't reach for him as means to stake a claim; you reach for him like a question. you reach for him like you have all the patience in the world for an answer.
sometimes you don't touch him at all, simply content to share his space.
he decides that means more to him than he expected unknowingly, he decides he prefers it when you do reach for him.
when you touch him, it's like clean air. he realizes, not for the first time, that there's not an audience.
eventually, he leans into it.
he almost never outright asks for your hands on him—mostly, he suggests, trusting that you'll know.
in the quiet of the night, when it's been a long day. you've curled into the corner of your couch, the one that sits in your living room that's been warmed by the glow of candlelight and fireplace. your tea has gone cold, but it still sits on the table next to you. your eyes are heavy, but the book you've been reading still lays in your lap.
he comes in, quiet as a ghost. clears the room in five short steps, dropping to the floor in front of you. it's a soft motion, when he leans against the cushion next to your knee, it's loud.
you react like a habit, your hand drifting and finding the softness of his scalp. your fingers card through his hair, slowly. absentmindedly, like this is how the two of you were always meant to fit together.
loki doesn't tense anymore, doesn't search for reasons of why and what would they want from me. his shoulders slump, and his palm finds your knee.
he makes a quiet quip about the book you're reading, the one you'd stolen from his bookshelf. your hands still, long enough to gently tug on a curl, saying that he'd just left it laying around.
when you start reading again, it's aloud.
soft murmurs, clouded by sleepiness. when you trip up on words that are unfamiliar to you - ancient, not meant to be read by mortals - he corrects you. not unkindly. like a conversation.
Here is my hand, he said. [...] Here is my hand that will not harm you.
Pairing: Loki x GN!Reader
Tag(s): self indulgent writing pls do not look at me or ask (/j), Loki and reader both being uncharacteristically calm and still, your honor they match each other's freak, no use of y/n, implied relationship
Triggers/warning(s): None. Ask to tag!
𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ don't forget — a reblog is a writer's best friend! | 700 word count
Loki's hands occupy your thoughts more than they should.
It's not your fault that he has long fingers—the kind that make you think he should play piano. Or a harp. Or something else that's supposed to be effortlessly graceful.
And you can't be the first person to notice that his hands move like water, gliding with motions like he knows people will stare; knowingly accenting his knuckles with rings that are so subtly flashy. Flakes of silver and gold, old gems and older carvings in the metals.
Large palms. The kind that are good for carrying coffee cups, or stacks of books. Surprisingly warm. Good for holding while walking through crowds.
Or just because.
Neat nails. Always trimmed, never dirty. Faint scars across his knuckles and palms, enough that you wouldn't expect from royalty. Almost, almost faded away, hinting just enough that you have to squint to really see them.
One day you'll ask.
His hands are nice. They have character, strangely enough, speaking almost as clearly as the person they're attached to.
"Go ahead."
Your thoughts stutter, then stop. Like a cat's paw just before it fits between the bird's metal cage, Loki's voice has caught your attention just before you thoughts got further carried away.
"Go ahead," he repeats, his voice sure. You glance up, attention flicking from his hands to his face. "Get it out of your system."
"What?"
"You're not being subtle," he clarifies. Then he offers both of his hands towards you, palms facing up. You hear the way that Loki's tone flirts with the line between smug and refrained—like he knows you'll flutter away if he gloats too much.
The little spark of mischief, the one that's never completely left him, dances in the corners of his eye.
You pout, lips pursing at the way he correctly assumes what you want. Loki's fingers twitch in response, betraying the patience on his face. You huff, unwilling to show that you were pleased by his open invitation to explore your fixation.
Shifting closer, your knee nudges against his.
You take his hands.
For just a moment, you look. You give yourself the time to observe closer than you've ever given yourself freedom to do.
Then you focus, using both of your hands to hold one of his. Your thumbs brush against the heel of his thumb, feeling the muscle, tracing the lines that dance across his palms.
You wish you could read palms, that you knew what the lines that connected and drifted apart meant.
You let your fingers drift across the valley of his hand, against the callouses—this one from writing? this one from holding a dagger?—until you reach the base of his fingers, following the creases that line his middle finger.
To Loki's credit, he doesn't flinch.
He lets you touch his palm however you wish, stays still as you count the rings on his fingers and turn them, offering only his breath as a response.
When you glance up, checking in to see if perhaps he's hidden something on his face, you see that he's looking down, almost as focused in on your task as you were.
You turn his hand over.
Thumb across the back of his hand, cataloguing the few silver lines that trace across the skin. you take note of the light blue of his veins, barely visible to your eye.
A freckle, just above the knuckle of his pinky finger.
Once you finally feel satisfied with the work you had done to his left, palm, you repeat the process to his right hand. You use the same quietness, the same slowness that you had used on the initial pass over the first hand.
You don't look up to catch Loki's expression again, not daring to break whatever mood has come over him to indulge you in something so brutally intimate.
Scar. Freckle. Ring. Turn. Heart line. Vein.
It feels like it's over as soon as it's started.
It feels like a lifetime later.
"Better?" He asks.
You barely catch yourself from flinching. It had turned so quiet, you weren't expecting Loki to speak again. Weight in your chest, you realize how quiet it was, how devoted he had sat.
Fandom: MCU
Pairing/starring: Loki x fem!reader
Content: Jotun!Loki, fluff, domestic!Loki, sweet smut, a smidgen of worry but it’s all good.
A/N: I asked and the answer was clear – you almost all wanted more Loki so here you go. Patially betaed by the fabulous TanteFrutsel-CreativeNurse (I got impatient and decided to upload before we were fully done – shame on me).
Snow morning
You stretch as you wake up, subconsciously reaching towards the spot next to yours in the bed but finding it empty. There’s a pang of disappointment that you strangle right away: you love cuddling as sleep leaves your body and mind but your beloved tends to be up earlier than you and that’s okay. So instead of the real thing, you settle with hugging Loki’s pillow close, inhaling his scent that clings to the silken pillowcase and for a moment you drift back to sleep content with the knowledge that he has been there not that long ago.
...
When you wake again, the light has changed – is has softened somehow – and the sounds from the world outside are dampened. Getting out of the warm bed, you shiver as the colder air of the room envelops you but you make it to the window where you pull the curtain aside to look out: snow. Slowly drifting from cottony grey clouds above, the large white flakes settle on every surface they touch. It’s been nippy lately but it’s the beginning of March so the snowfall surprises you.
“Loki,” you call out towards the living room, “are you seeing this?”
Oddly enough, there’s no answer.
Padding through your home from room to room, you find it empty and confusion grips you. Where is he? The answer is brought by a chilly breeze that wafts in from the study as you pass the door which is left slightly ajar, making you look to the balcony beyond where a figure is standing.
Stock still and only dressed in his low-hanging sweatpants, Loki is standing with his face towards the sky. His skin is the rare shade of blue that he himself finds so troublesome but you adore, and the increasing multitude of snowflakes land on the bare shoulder, his hair, his upturned face. He’s a vision to behold. Tall and athletic, you know you’ve scored the jackpot when it comes to your partner’s looks – and thankfully the same can be said of his mind and heart.
You don’t know how long you stand there until he casually glances over his shoulders to say: “You’re staring, love.”
Heat rushes to your cheeks as though you’ve been caught doing something forbidden even if you haven’t, but he turns, utterly gorgeous with the contrasting flecks in the raven hair.
“I love the peace of the falling snow,” he confesses as he enters your shared home again, leaving foot prints behind in the already inch-deep layer on the balcony, “it calms me, helps me think.” He closes the door and turns to you with a smile.
“And what do you think of?” you return his dazzling smile.
“You.” The warmth in his gaze is enough to tell you that they are good thoughts.
Now that he stands before you, you can’t help but reach up and trace the pattern of ridges that adorn his shoulders and chest, bold lines leading past his hips and underneath the soft fabric of the sweatpants.
“What do they mean?” you ask softly.
He shrugs. “I’m not sure they mean anything...I was born with them, I think.”
“Do you know if they are different from person to person?”
“They are.”
“Like the curls in the ears...” you muse.
Laughing softly, he agrees. Then he notices your bare legs underneath the silk pyjama shirt you’re wearing. “You must be cold. Come.”
He guides you back to bed where he pulls you with him under the cover.
The snowflakes on him have melted by now, leaving behind tiny drops of water that glitter in the soft light and you can’t help but kiss one on his brow away. Letting your lips wander, you become aware of the hitch in his breath when you nuzzle close, bodies flush.
His hands begin to explore, the touch light and slightly ticklish but quickly finding the right spots that ache for his attention as the craving within you stirs. It’s lazy. Slow. Piece by piece the two of you discard the bits of clothing you’re wearing until there’s full skin contact and nothing can stop the electrifying sensation of being close.
Rolling beneath the covers, you get on top of Loki, straddling him so he has to look up at you with the ruby eyes full of adoration. Slowly, you glide onto his cock, a little at a time before reverting – up and down in small increments that spreads your slick along the shaft and across the ridges.
He groans, throws his head back as you seat yourself fully and begin to rock. Thankfully, he still has the wherewithal to get the hint when you take his hands and place them on your breasts. His gaze snaps back to you, to your form. Drinks you in despite the fluttering eyelashes that threaten to block out the view.
You yourself can barely concentrate on moving all the while you still need more and you’re thankful when Loki grabs your waist to help guide you or you would have lost the rhythm as your body begins to seize. Your core clenches around him, heightening the sensations of each roll of your hips.
None of you speak with the exception of whispered names and “I love yous”. It’s not necessary. That’s why it’s okay that you can’t get a word out the moment your body basically convulses as you cum: a dull throbbing that wells within you until it’s taken you over and blocked your mind from functioning. Hot waves travel through you body, alighting every single nerve.
Beneath you, Loki growls softly, his hips stuttering up into you and his grasp tightens to hold you in place as he spills into your core.
You can’t stay upright. As your body relaxes you lie down on his chest, gasping for air and taking in the sweet smell of love-making and the frosty scent of Loki. His arms wrap around you, holding you tight and safe.
Pairing/starring: Loki Laufeyson x virgin!fem!reader.
Word count: 300.
Content: Smut (first time for reader, mentions of oral and fingering, piv, riding), patience, fluff.
A/N: We’ve reached the 25th of September and with that the prompt “You’re taking me so well” from SexySeptemberScribbles. As per usual please like, comment, and especially reblog as this site doesn’t work like the others! Here’s my TAGLIST and my MASTERLIST for more and then there’s the S3 compilation!
Like a glove
You’re so nervous! You can barely breathe, chest feeling tight, and the butterflies in your belly seem about ready to burst out of you. Or maybe that’s the aftershocks of having cum so hard from Loki’s mouth that your voice broke?
No.
As you get into position above Loki, knees dimpling the mattress on either side of his waist, the flutter of nerves intensifies. You’ve played with his cock – even had it in your mouth – and it’s so big it will be impossible to fit it into your cunt where only his fingers and tongue have been.
“Look at me, flower,” he murmurs.
From staring at his pelvis you meet his eyes, soft and confident. His hands are on your hips, guiding you without applying any force – if you wanted to, you could move away.
You feel the slide of his fingertips along the inside of your thigh before losing contact. Then something blunt strokes your folds, coming to rest to nudge at your entrance.
“What if -?” you start, only to stop yourself.
“It’ll fit, I promise.” With his free hand he takes yours, kissing your knuckles. “Remember how you took my fingers?”
Somewhat emboldened, you sink down slowly, spearing yourself on his cock even if only a little bit before your thighs tense and you pull up slowly.
Deep breath.
Then down again, further this time and you see how Loki’s face screws up, eyelashes fluttering and mouth ajar. Up and down, each time taking him a bit better, a bit further, until you’re sitting flush on him and you’re fuller than you’ve ever been before. Heavy and warm, stretching your cunt deliciously.
“S-see?” he gasps. “You’re taking me so well.”
You can only nod, insides clenching and making him breathe in sharply as you testingly roll your hips.
18+ content about half way down, nothing extremely explicit <3
∘•···ʚ ♡ ɞ ···•∘
Loki who adores kissing you!
Loki who kisses your forehead as a form of reassurance. When you feel doubtful, afraid, upset, and sometimes words aren't enough, he presses his lips just below your hairline, conveying what his voice alone cannot.
Loki who kisses your nose in greeting, when you pout, or just to see your face scrunch up. Who loves the way it makes you smile, even if you're trying not to.
Loki who covers your entire face in kisses (Im a firm believer that yes, he suffers from cuteness aggression.) When he cant find a way to verbally express his affections he'll wrap you up in his arms, kissing every inch of your face until your breathless with giggles and he's all smiles and softness.
Loki who kisses your hands because he was raised a prince and treats you like royalty yourself. Kisses to your knuckles, fingertips, palms, pulse point, treasuring your hands like you yourself are holy.
Loki who kisses your lips like he's starved for you. Cozy, quiet nights where all that matters are his lips pressed to yours. Soft, meaningful make out sessions full of reassurance between kisses. Heated, teeth clashing kisses, tongues entangled and hearts racing.
Loki who kisses your neck just to hear you sigh in relaxation, or whimper in pleasure. Regardless of how sensitive you are there he adores taking his time buried in the crook of your shoulder, gently bruising up your skin.
Loki who kisses every inch of your body like he's worshipping you. Lips traveling down your sternum, along your stomach, over your hip bones. Whispers of breath between kisses up your thighs. Kisses meant to tease and show utter devotion at the same time.
Loki who loves barely there kisses to your clit, kitty licks between kisses while you whine for him to get on with it. He adores the sounds you make, your fingers tugging his hair, the way the faintest of touches makes you tremble.
pairing: Avenger Loki Laufeyson x reader (fem in mind reader wears dress, heels, and makeup royal beauty standards implied as reason so not out of enjoyment specifically)
warnings: Best friends to lovers, confessions, yearning Loki, lovesick idiots, pure fluff, no use of y/n, nickname (darling)
not proofread we die like men lol
word count: 1.1k
summary: Loki is only openly soft for one person and that person is his best friend his usual sass and snapping remarks are nonexistent for her.
asked by my Favorite writer @venigrantrogers Thank you for this request!!! I hope you love it! I tried really hard! 💚💚💚💚💚
Loki's days are spent in routine everywhere he goes. You're on his mind whether he's in the palace library, sparring Thor, in the middle of a real battle the only thing that's consistent in his chaos is his obvious love for you.
Being Loki's best friend has its perks for starters no man, prince or knight dared to approach you because Loki has turned people into mice for much less.
One thing for sure that was for sure a perk of Loki being in your life was his full attention on you all the time sometimes you swore he knew you better then you did.
Sad? Loki already had your favorite snacks and he'd make sure no one bothered you for however long you needed.
Anxious? Loki would say something silly just to make you laugh.
Insecure? Loki will flirt with you until you're a blushing mess like when you had mentioned in passing that you hadn't liked how this one article of clothing fitted and Loki just said to take it off since he knew you'd look better without it.
Stressed? Loki was already reworking your day so that you could relax in his room with one of his books.
Unfortunately there was one downside to being Loki's best friend and that was the royal events.
He had to attend a lot as a prince of asgard. You being his best friend and the only person that he wants with him at all times were always his plus one.
Soft music floated through the air of the ballroom, a glass in your hand that you're holding a little too tightly, a forced smile on your face internally cursing how weak you get for Loki's damn puppy eyes.
Loki stood next to you giving you apologetic glances every few minutes since the man that was in front of you both had been just the latest of the many people who had approached Loki.
After the man had finally excused himself, Loki immediately turned to you offering his hand.
"Care for a dance darling?~"
Loki’s voice was a smooth purr he knew for a fact his teasing flirting would help ease the tension you felt from another person being too scared to even acknowledge you.
"If you insist, my prince"
Loki huffs a slight laugh at you using his title as you set your glass down gently he doesn't take his eyes off you as always its like his eyes are just glued to you with a soft sigh you take his hand in yours, letting him lead you to the dance floor.
Dancing with Loki was just another benefit to being his best friend.
It was always magically the way he’d focus on you as he spun you around his touch, always gentle never drifted or made you feel uncomfortable.
Even when he pulled you close, he was always careful, always watching your face for any hints of discomfort.
His sole focus on you never fails to make the room disappear like a spell.
The ball is finally winding down after four mindless hours of polite chatter and forced smiles without words. Loki leads you to his personal chambers as always that's where you destress after such mindless events.
As always as soon as you're in his room you lay down on the couch after kicking off your dreadful heels loki sits down next to you leaning his head on the back of the couch.
"darling?"
Loki's voice was soft while falling asleep.
"hm?"
you hum in response to be comfortable to really speak.
"Would it be possible to move to my bed to sleep properly? I think we'd be more comfortable."
You open your eyes to peek at him and Loki is already looking down at you with a soft nervousness in his eyes.
"Loki, we've been best friends for years, yes we can move to your bed to be more comfortable."
You sat up slowly definitely sleepy, you barely had time to let out a huff of annoyance that you'd have to take off your make up and the dress you had to wear for the royal event when in a flash of green your face was clean and you were suddenly in one of Loki's shirts and some sleep shorts. You looked over at him with a soft smile that made Loki smile back.
A few minutes later you're both lying in the silk sheets of his bed, your head on his chest, legs tangled. It was intimate but something about it being loki made it feel perfect like this was something you always did which to be fair boundaries with loki have never fully existed.
Loki's hand playing with your hair made you smile only took him a few minutes to get you to the edges of sleep.
Loki on the other hand was now wide awake he couldn't keep in his feelings any longer and it was bubbling over while watching how you melted into him and trusted him so freely.
"I love you so much." He spoke in a soft voice like one you'd use to worship.
It took you a moment to process what he had said, your tired brain so close to sleep you almost thought you imagined it but then you felt his hand cup your face to encourage you to look up at him you blinked a few times to clear the almost sleep from your eyes.
"I love you too Loki."
Your voice is quiet from almost falling asleep.
"Grant me the honor of calling you mine?~"
His voice is more rough now as he stares down into your eyes like you hung the stars.
"I'm as much yours as you are mine loki it's just official now~" you breathed out softly because of the way a god like him is so devoted to only you and isn't afraid to show it.
Loki cupped your chin and tilted it up and kissed you properly so soft and sweet like he could pour all his love for you into this kiss.
It didn't feel like a first, it wasn't rushed or clumsy, it was like coming home because it was.
When you both parted for air he smiled, kissing your forehead.
"Sleep my queen you’ll need your rest for later~"
Now safe and warm in his arms you feel truly at peace like you could face a thousand more royal events because you'd have Loki at your side.
Drifting off to sleep you know one thing for certain…
➳ CW: mostly fluff, suggestive comments/thoughts (guess who lol), no mention of y/n, not betaed (+ author is rusty), Loki is a yearner and seems to really hate it/have conflicting feelings about it, Loki is attempting to keep up his passions for power but he is distracted (wink wink), Loki-centric, Loki POV (kinda), stubborn reader/kinda selfish reader (she wants his attention (I understand her 100% btw)).
➳ A/N: SOUND THE ALARMS!!!! After (apparently) 2 months of me not writing anything, I've returned. Okay so this is short and kind of a nothingburger but I had to get the machine back in order, yk. Something quick to get the loki gears moving. I hope you're all well, pleaseeee let me know what you think <333 (I've missed you guys)
➳ (~1.7k words)
(the look of disbelief when he sees his betrothed coming back to the palace lol) (gif by @lokilaufey96 !!)
He had not seen her all day. If it were up to him, that would have never been allowed to occur, but, as it happened, the choice was out of his hands. Despite how proud he had become of his growing list of daily duties, particularly because they now outnumbered Thor’s princely duties, they had become a source of irritation as of late. ‘As of late’ meaning ever since he had gotten betrothed a certain number of moons ago. Loki had spent his entire life aiming for the height of power and achievement amongst his family, all with the goal of filling the hole he’d always felt within his deepest self, all so he wouldn’t feel so inexplicably different. Yes, power and a grasp over others is what he’d spent centuries lusting over.
Now, however, things had changed. Annoyingly so. Right as he had begun to make true advancements on his lifelong goal, he had met her, and everything had changed. Sometimes, he wished he could be rid of her (not truly). Other times, he thought she had been created by the Nine with solely his eternal torment in mind, because she was nothing if not a terribly powerful distraction. Loki had gone from hating his lack of duties to hating their bountifulness. He cursed his mind more often than not nowadays, because the first thought it formed every morning was about soft lips, gentle touches and delicate silks, not about treaties, parchment or gold. Still, he supposed he hated his body most of all, because it was his legs that seemed to lead him to her chambers every morning instead of the council chambers where countless opportunities to further his reach surely awaited him. His passions had seemingly abandoned power and had instead begun to chase after any chance of even a glimpse of her.
They had betrayed him anon today. He had known for days now that he was to attend an important council meeting this very morning, shortly after breaking his fast and training briefly with Thor (as the oaf always insisted they do). Loki always woke early enough, whether of his own volition or due to his unpleasant dreams, for him to have a liberal amount of time to scheme. However, like the rest of his carefully structured and practiced routine, this habit had recently gone to Hel. His scheming had first turned into curiosity, a most cruel initial descent into madness (a cruel mistress he was well familiar with but for entirely different reasons), then into pondering, until it had become reminiscing about scents he had smelled upon her, fabrics he had seen upon her, jewelry he had felt on her, kisses he had lain on her. The latter undoubtedly equated into lust, a feeling he usually favoured because it tended to send him onto a very direct path towards his goals. However, what was he to do now that it was sending him down the wrong path?
He had made the mistake, this morning, of going (of being led by his uncooperating body) to her chambers before the meeting. Hoping, foolishly, to set eyes on her whilst she was still softened by sleep and still smelling of dreams and of freshly born sunlight. He had been greeted by the sight of her lady-in-waiting leaving her rooms with an empty pitcher of water in hand. He’d felt the delight permeating from her, seen her biting down her smile at the sight of him, probably looking so very foolishly delirious for her lady.
“She has left already, your grace. Duties awaited her early this morn.”
Loki had had half a mind to ask the girl what in the Norns she’d been on about, and just what sorts of duties his beloved had to attend to in the early morning, but he’d caught himself right before embarrassing himself with such an overt display of displeasure. He’d instead done the correct thing for once and gone down to the council chambers, decidedly set on carrying out his duties properly today, what with his main distraction gone from his sights.
It had not worked. Her absence seemed only to drive him to more distraction. He’d still been the most composed and attentive person in the meeting, of course, and none of those old men had been able to tell just what a state he’d been in, but he still left the chambers in a state of deep unease. He had to see her at once, to purge these feelings from himself. He had been telling himself this for months; he only needed to see her once per day in order to get his fill of her, after which he could return to more important matters. Little did he know (or want to admit) that she had become the important matter in his life through his apparent feeding of his addiction for her.
Loki walked quickly through the hallways, hoping that luck would smile down on him once more and give him a hint as to her whereabouts. His feet, seemingly on their own, led him out onto the area of the palace overlooking the outer courtyard. He found himself looking out at the people there, searching for one of her attendants or something of the like, searching for even a hint of her to tide him over until he could have her properly near again. Luck smiled down on him, indeed, when he saw her, unmistakably her, riding into the courtyard from the forests. And yet, the sight was an unsettling one, because she was riding in on his very own steed. An impossibility, surely. Many of the attendants occupying the yard seemed just as mystified by the sight upon recognizing the horse.
Loki found himself watching her dismount with great interest, a spark of deep amusement marking the deep destruction of the potential anger he could’ve felt at this blatant disrespect. Future wife or not, who was she to freely take his own prized horse out for a frivolous ride? The lure of her daring pulled him to her, down the steps and out onto the courtyard, palace attendants sharing nervous looks and surely expecting their prince to be furious with his lady.
As always, Loki was glad to defy expectations. Still properly charmed by her actions (he was sure he looked truly pathetically taken with her), he approached her, her eyes already set on him from the moment she’d noticed him looking at her from within the palace. She looked unsurprised to have been found out. Beautiful, and unsurprised. With a thrill, Loki realized she’d wanted him to see her like this, to see her disrespecting him.
With rules already broken, he disregarded his habit of kissing her hand in greeting, and simply pulled her in close by the waist, leaning in to kiss at her neck.
“My love… what is it that you think you have been doing?” He murmured against her skin.
“Keeping myself occupied, naturally. You made it clear in the previous days that you should, under no circumstances, be bothered today.” Her reply was unflappable. His heart stuttered with delight at her irritation with him. He bit lightly at her neck, hoping to bring out more of it.
“Was your steed not to your liking today? What, in your mind, gave you the right to take mine?”
“I wished to take something of yours, so you could see what it is like to have something you covet taken from you.”
Did she not yet know that she has owned his heart for months now?
“And what, my darling, has been taken from you?”
“Your attention.” She pulled his face away from her neck with a gentle hand in his tresses, pulling him back so as to look into his eyes. He grinned, likely looking far too delighted.
“Do I not give you enough of it? I feel as if all I ever do is think of you, dearest.” He cooed, trying (but allowing her still to hold him back) to kiss her.
“And yet you foolishly tell me not to disturb you for entire days?”
“A single day, my love. That is all I had asked of you.” He corrected, and her frown nearly made him groan. She made him hungry. Always hungry. For lust, for skin, for soft breaths against his own skin.
“You asked it cruelly.”
“I am certain I did.” He agreed, because he had learned to love agreeing with her. “Did you find this to be the proper punishment, then?” He nudged his nose tenderly against her cheek.
“Yes, although you do not seem nearly upset enough, which is making me reconsider.”
“I could never be upset at a sight this beautiful, my love.”
“My stealing your horse is a beautiful sight, is it?”
“Anything you do, no matter right or wrong, is made delightfully alluring by its initiator being you, my devious minx.”
“You are meant to be angry…” She reminded him softly.
“I must admit that I was, initially. However… I do find that, on second thought, you looked entirely fetching upon my steed, dearest. A husband should become used with sharing his belongings with his wife, no?” His grin came easily, and the loosening of her fingers in his hair, too. He leaned in again, pressing a kiss to her cheek, and then to the corner of her mouth. Tempting her, or, trying to, in the same way she always seemed to tempt him.
“Perhaps I should become more daring, then. Steal more of your possessions.”
He purred at the suggestion, at the thought of his things going missing and reappearing in her arms. His horns, his daggers, his colours upon her…
“My darling…” He began softly, words honeyed. “While you looked delightful upon my stallion, I was left doubting your horsemanship. Perhaps you would benefit from some more practice? With a more… patient steed?”
The push she gave to his shoulders and the incredulous laugh that left her once he’d finished speaking were answer enough. But he was only truly content once she offered him her hand, her intentions of punishing him clearly forgotten. In this manner, at least.
My first ADOW ficlet. It’s not even 200 words and I’m not sure it’s really in-character but I hope y’all like it anyway.
Diana hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Honest. She’d just sat down for a minute after getting the twins to sleep, and closed her eyes, and now she’s blinking up at the loving amusement lurking in the corner of Matthew’s mouth.
“You might be more comfortable in bed,” he says, holding out a hand to pull her to her feet. She doesn’t need the help, but nor does she reject it, because it brings her close to him and there’s nowhere else she would rather be. He wraps his arm around her waist for the briefest of moments before casting his eye pointedly toward their bed.
“I’m going, I’m going,” she agrees, shedding her clothes in favor of pajamas as she goes. Matthew helps a little, mostly successfully keeping his ever-present need for her in check as his hands brush against her bare skin. His touch now is meant not to excite but to soothe, and soothe it does. By the time she slips under the covers, she’s already half-asleep again.
“Love you,” she mumbles, curling into the pillow.
“Sleep well, mon coeur,” he whispers, pressing his lips against her hair.
ᯓ★ Summary: you and Loki are going to be parents, when you discovered it you were more than happy, but once little Astrid is born you realize that having a kid is more difficult than you had thought
ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think
ᯓ★ Part 1
ᯓ★ My Masterlist
ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special
ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!
ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)
ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo
ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language
The morning feels different. There’s a strange flutter in your chest, an unexplainable lightness despite the weight of realization settling in your mind. You sit at the edge of the bed, staring at your hands, your thoughts spinning. It’s been weeks—weeks since you last bled.
At first, you didn’t think much of it. With the chaos of court life, your duties, and your shared moments with Loki, it had been easy to overlook. But now, as you count the days in your head, as the truth sinks in, you feel something bubbling inside you—something warm and exhilarating.
You’re pregnant.
The thought sends a rush of excitement through you, but along with it comes a nervous thrill. This is real. You place a hand on your stomach, trying to fathom the idea that life—his life and your life—is growing inside of you.
Loki.
A smile tugs at your lips as you imagine telling him. He will be overjoyed, you’re sure of it. For all his sharp wit and composed demeanor, you know the depth of his emotions—how fiercely he loves, how much he craves the kind of family he never quite felt he had. This will change everything.
With renewed excitement, you rise from the bed and quickly dress, practically floating as you make your way through the palace halls in search of your husband.
You find Loki in the library, curled up in his favorite chair, reading some ancient Asgardian text. The early morning light filters through the tall windows, illuminating his sharp features, making his black hair gleam. His long fingers rest lightly against his temple as he turns a page with his free hand, completely engrossed.
You pause for a moment, just watching him. How is it possible to love someone this much?
Then, unable to contain yourself, you clear your throat dramatically.
“Good morning, my prince.”
Loki looks up, raising an eyebrow at your playful tone. “You seem… unusually chipper this morning,” he remarks, closing his book with a soft thud.
You grin, stepping closer. “I have something to tell you.”
There’s something in your expression, in the energy of your stance, that makes him straighten. His piercing green eyes lock onto yours, searching for a clue. “Oh?” he says, tilting his head. “Should I be concerned or intrigued?”
You pretend to ponder for a moment before stepping right in front of him, placing his hands on your waist. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress, grounding you.
“You should be excited,” you whisper, unable to hide the smile threatening to break across your face.
Loki frowns slightly, his mind already working through possibilities. You can practically see him trying to deduce what could be making you act this way. But then his eyes flicker down—to your stomach.
He stills. His hands tighten on your waist, his breath catching.
“Y/N…”
You nod before he even finishes his thought. “I’m pregnant, Loki.”
For a long moment, there’s only silence. You watch as the emotions flicker across his face—shock, realization, disbelief. And then, as if the dam breaks, pure, unfiltered joy floods his expression.
“You—are you certain?” His voice is almost breathless.
You nod again, laughing softly. “Yes. I missed my blood, and I feel different. It’s happening, Loki.”
And then, before you can say another word, he laughs. A real, genuine, beautiful laugh—so full of wonder and elation that it makes your heart swell. In one swift movement, he pulls you into his arms, lifting you off the ground as he spins you in a circle.
“You mad, wonderful woman!” he exclaims, his laughter vibrating against your skin as he presses his forehead to yours. “You carry our child.”
There’s something so raw, so vulnerable in his joy that it almost brings tears to your eyes. You cup his face, tracing his cheekbones with your thumbs.
“Yes, my love,” you whisper. “Our child.”
He kisses you then, fervently, as if he’s trying to pour every ounce of his love into that single moment. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are bright, filled with something indescribable.
“We must tell Mother,” he says at once, grinning. “And Thor. And…” He hesitates. “And Father.”
You nod, squeezing his hands. “Yes. But I think we should tell Frigga first.”
Frigga is in the royal gardens when you find her, tending to the blooming flowers with her usual serene grace. The moment she sees you both approaching, she knows something is different. Her sharp eyes dart between you and Loki, her lips twitching as if she already suspects the truth.
“Well,” she says lightly, brushing the dirt from her hands, “you both look positively radiant. Have you come to share some good news?”
Loki smirks, shaking his head. “Mother, you always know everything before we even say a word. It’s truly unfair.”
Frigga chuckles, stepping closer. “A mother knows her children.” She pauses, searching Loki’s face, then yours. And then her eyes widen ever so slightly. “Wait…”
You take a deep breath, squeezing Loki’s hand. “We’re having a child.”
For a moment, she simply stares. Then, in the blink of an eye, her face breaks into a radiant smile, and she laughs—a joyous, melodic sound that echoes through the garden.
“Oh, my sweet ones!” she exclaims, pulling you into a tight embrace before immediately turning to Loki and cradling his face in her hands. “A child! My grandchild! Oh, this is wonderful!”
Loki chuckles, though his eyes are soft with affection. “You are pleased, then?”
“Pleased?” Frigga scoffs. “Loki, I am overjoyed.”
She steps back, beaming. “Oh, I must prepare! There will be so much to do! And have you told Thor yet?”
Loki shakes his head. “Not yet, but I suspect his reaction will be equally dramatic.”
Thor’s reaction, as expected, is nothing short of thunderous.
When you find him in the training grounds and deliver the news, his joyful roar can probably be heard all the way in Midgard. He immediately engulfs both you and Loki in an enthusiastic embrace, nearly crushing you.
“This is magnificent!” he bellows, grinning from ear to ear. “A little one in the family! Oh, I shall be the best uncle Asgard has ever seen!”
Loki rolls his eyes, but his smirk betrays his amusement. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, brother.”
But Thor isn’t listening. He’s already ranting about how he’ll teach the child to wield a sword, how he’ll take them on adventures, how he’ll ensure they are the most beloved royal in all the realms.
You exchange a knowing look with Loki, and despite his usual exasperation with Thor, you see the affection there—the quiet gratitude that, for once, something truly belongs to him.
Telling Odin is the last step, and the most daunting.
He listens in silence as Loki delivers the news, his expression unreadable. For a long, unbearable moment, he says nothing. Then, finally, he nods.
“This is a great responsibility,” he says, his voice measured. “One I trust you both will bear well.”
It’s not the warmest reaction, but it’s not disapproval either. And from Odin, that’s as close to a blessing as one can expect.
Still, when you leave the throne room, Frigga is waiting outside, and the warmth in her eyes makes up for any lack of enthusiasm from Odin.
That night, as you lay in bed with Loki, his hand resting protectively over your stomach, you realize that this—this—is everything. A family. A future. A love that was never expected but now feels inevitable.
And as Loki presses a soft kiss to your temple, whispering promises to you and the child growing inside you, you know that the best is yet to come.
Time passes, and with each passing day, your belly grows, a visible testament to the life blossoming inside you. It is a sight that has Loki utterly, completely captivated.
At first, his fascination is subtle—his hands lingering on your stomach longer than necessary, his gaze constantly drawn to the curve of it when he thinks you aren’t looking. But soon, all subtlety is abandoned.
Loki becomes obsessed.
Any moment he can, his hands are on you—palming the swell of your belly, tracing idle patterns across your skin, murmuring to the baby with a voice so soft and reverent that it makes your heart ache. He presses kisses to your stomach constantly, sometimes speaking in the All-Tongue, whispering things only your child can hear. You don’t even have to say anything anymore; the moment you shift in discomfort, he is at your side, hands ghosting over your form, making sure you are well.
And then there’s the protectiveness.
It starts small. A firm hand on your lower back whenever you walk together, guiding you carefully through the palace halls. An unreadable look directed at anyone who dares get too close. A subtle clearing of his throat when someone asks too many questions about the baby, as if to remind them whose child you are carrying.
But soon, much like his obsession, Loki’s protectiveness grows.
One afternoon, you reach down to pick up something from the floor—a simple task, nothing strenuous—and before you can even grasp it, Loki appears out of nowhere, snatching it up before you can bend further.
“Absolutely not,” he says flatly, handing it to you as if it weighs a hundred pounds.
You raise an eyebrow. “It was a handkerchief, Loki.”
He doesn’t even blink. “And what if you had lost your balance? Fallen? Hurt yourself?”
You stare at him. “I am pregnant, not made of glass.”
But Loki only narrows his eyes. “As far as I am concerned, they are one and the same.”
And then there are the Asgardians.
The news of your pregnancy spreads through the realm like wildfire, and the reaction is immediate. Asgard is ecstatic. The streets erupt into celebrations, the people eagerly anticipating the arrival of their future prince or princess. Feasts are held in your honor, songs composed about the child who will inherit both your strength and Loki’s cunning. Children play in the streets, pretending to be the young heir of Asgard, already crafting wild tales of what they will be like.
But of course, Loki’s protectiveness extends to them as well.
You cannot take more than a few steps outside the palace without being swarmed by eager well-wishers, and though their joy is infectious, Loki is constantly watching them like a hawk, his hand never leaving yours.
The first time someone—an enthusiastic old woman—reaches out to touch your belly without permission, Loki’s expression darkens. His fingers tighten around yours, and his voice drops to a dangerously smooth warning:
“I would advise against that.”
The poor woman nearly faints on the spot.
You spend the next ten minutes reassuring both her and your husband that no harm was done, though Loki remains suspicious. After that, any Asgardian who dares approach you with hands outstretched learns very quickly that they must ask first.
And yet, for all his overprotectiveness, you know it comes from a place of love.
At night, when it is just the two of you, he is softer. He lays beside you, his hand resting over your belly, his long fingers splayed across your skin as if he still cannot believe this is real. He whispers to the baby, voice laced with wonder, making promises he would never dare utter aloud in the light of day.
“You will be safe,” he murmurs one evening, his lips brushing against your stomach. “I will make sure of it. No harm will ever come to you, or to your mother.”
His eyes flicker up to yours, and something in his expression makes your breath catch. It is rare to see Loki so openly vulnerable, but here, in the quiet sanctuary of your chambers, he allows it.
You reach down, threading your fingers through his hair. “We will protect them together,” you say softly. “As a family.”
Loki exhales, pressing another kiss to your belly before shifting up to capture your lips in a slow, lingering kiss.
And as you fall asleep in his arms, his hand never leaving your stomach, you know that no matter what comes next, you will never be alone.
Telling your family is the final step in making this all feel real.
The journey back to your kingdom is not long, but Loki insists on accompanying you. “You are with child,” he says when you raise an eyebrow at his concern. “I will not allow you to make this journey alone.”
“I have guards, and I am perfectly capable—”
“You have me,” Loki interjects smoothly, offering his hand. “That is all you need.”
You roll your eyes, but there is no real irritation behind it. The truth is, you are grateful for his presence. And when you arrive at your childhood home, stepping through the familiar halls, you feel the warmth of nostalgia settle over you.
Your father is the first to greet you, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you and Loki. “My daughter,” he says fondly before his gaze shifts, scanning you more carefully. A frown flickers across his features. “You look… different.”
Your mother tilts her head, sharp as ever. “Yes,” she agrees, a slow smile forming. “There is a glow about you.”
You exchange a glance with Loki, who gives you a small nod. Taking a deep breath, you reach for his hand and guide it to rest over your growing belly.
“We have come with news,” you say, your voice filled with quiet excitement. “Loki and I are expecting a child.”
For a moment, silence. And then—
Laughter. Cheers. Tears.
Your mother gasps, covering her mouth with her hands as her eyes shine with emotion. Your father’s proud laughter fills the room as he steps forward, clasping Loki’s shoulder in a rare display of affection. Your siblings (if you have any) immediately bombard you with questions—when is the baby due? Will they have your eyes or Loki’s? Can they teach the child tricks?
The celebration lasts for hours. Feasts are prepared, and your family ensures that Loki feels just as welcome as you do. For all his sharp wit and cool demeanor, he cannot hide the way his lips twitch upward at their excitement.
“You are truly happy,” he murmurs later, when it is just the two of you watching the stars from the balcony.
You turn to him, lacing your fingers with his. “Because I have you. And soon, we will have our child.”
Loki presses a kiss to your forehead. “Yes,” he murmurs. “Soon.”
The months pass swiftly.
Your belly swells with each passing week, and Loki remains as obsessed—and as protective—as ever. He insists on helping you with everything, from getting out of bed to ensuring you never so much as lift a finger. At first, you try to resist, but soon you realize it is easier to let him fuss than to argue with him.
And then, finally, the ninth month arrives.
The baby could come any day now.
The Asgardian healers constantly check on you, assuring Loki that everything is progressing as it should. But he still hovers. Every night, as you settle into bed, he keeps his hands on your belly, murmuring softly to your child, making sure you are both safe.
And then, one night, the moment arrives.
It begins with a sharp, sudden pain that rips you from sleep. For a moment, you think it is another one of the usual discomforts that come with pregnancy, but then the pain intensifies, and a low, involuntary moan escapes your lips.
Loki, ever the light sleeper, is at your side in an instant.
“Y/N?” His voice is thick with sleep, but the concern in his eyes is immediate. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
You clutch his arm, your breath shallow. “Loki… I think…” You wince as another wave of pain crashes through you. “I think it’s time.”
There is a beat of silence as Loki processes your words.
And then—
“It’s time?!”
He practically leaps from the bed, shouting for Frigga before you can even finish nodding. Within minutes, the entire palace is awake.
Frigga arrives swiftly, her expression calm but focused. The royal healers and several experienced women of the court follow close behind, ready to assist. Loki, however, is the opposite of calm. He paces restlessly, wringing his hands as he mutters to himself.
“Loki,” Frigga says firmly, placing a hand on his arm. “She will be fine. But you must be strong for her.”
Loki swallows hard, nodding quickly before rushing back to your side.
You grip his hand tightly as another contraction tears through you, a strangled groan escaping your lips. “Loki,” you pant, your face contorted in pain. “You’re crushing my fingers.”
He immediately loosens his grip, though his expression remains tense. “Apologies, my love,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But you must squeeze as hard as you need.”
The hours drag on. The pain is unbearable, but you refuse to let go of Loki’s hand. He is your anchor, murmuring soft reassurances, brushing damp hair from your face, kissing your knuckles between contractions.
“Almost there,” Frigga soothes, her hands steady as she guides the process. “You are doing beautifully, my dear.”
Loki watches you with an expression unlike anything you have ever seen before. Awe. Fear. Love.
And then—
A final, agonizing push.
A sharp, piercing cry fills the chamber.
And just like that, everything else fades away.
For a moment, there is only silence, only the rush of relief as you collapse back against the pillows, chest heaving.
Then, through your haze of exhaustion, you hear Frigga’s gentle voice. “A daughter,” she announces warmly, carefully swaddling the tiny bundle in her arms. “You have a daughter.”
Loki makes a choked sound, his grip on your hand tightening.
A daughter.
Frigga steps forward, cradling the small, squirming infant before gently placing her into your waiting arms.
The moment you see her—your breath catches.
She is perfect.
Tiny, delicate, with soft tufts of dark hair and round, pink cheeks. When her eyes flutter open, they are a brilliant shade of green, so much like her father’s that your heart clenches.
Loki is utterly still beside you, staring down at the baby with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“She is…” His voice breaks. He swallows, reaching out with trembling fingers to trace the curve of her tiny hand. “She is ours.”
Tears prick your eyes as you watch him. “Yes, Loki,” you whisper. “She is.”
The baby lets out a tiny whimper, her small fingers curling around Loki’s. His breath shudders, and before he can stop them, silent tears slip down his cheeks.
Frigga smiles knowingly, brushing a soft kiss against your temple. “Have you chosen a name?”
You and Loki exchange a glance. You had discussed possibilities before, but now, looking at her, only one name feels right.
“Astrid,” you whisper.
Loki exhales shakily, nodding as he presses a reverent kiss to her forehead. “Our little star,” he murmurs.
The room is filled with quiet joy, the soft coos of your newborn daughter, the lingering warmth of family surrounding you.
And as you rest your head against Loki’s shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, you know without a doubt—
This is the beginning of something truly beautiful.
The first day of having Astrid is nothing short of overwhelming.
You wake to the soft cry of your newborn daughter, the sound piercing through the peaceful silence of the early morning. For a moment, you lay there in a daze, your mind still half-drifting in sleep as you listen to her cries. And then—
“Loki,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from the exhaustion of childbirth. “It’s time.”
Loki is beside you in an instant, his dark eyes wide with the same mixture of awe and terror that had been present when he first held her. “I know,” he mutters, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I heard her.”
Your little princess, only hours old, already has an impressive set of lungs. And when Loki carefully takes her into his arms, it’s as if she senses the opportunity to assert her will. Her tiny fists wave in the air, and her cries grow louder, sharper. Loki looks at her, wide-eyed, as if trying to figure out what to do next.
“She’s… she’s hungry, isn’t she?” Loki asks, his voice a little strained, as he shifts Astrid in his arms.
“I think so,” you reply with a yawn, sitting up. You’ve already fed her once before falling asleep, but newborns have a tendency to be demanding. “Let me try.”
You shift to pull Astrid closer, your hands shaking slightly as you reach for her. But as soon as she’s near, the crying only intensifies, her little face scrunching up in outrage.
Loki watches with wide eyes as Astrid wails, his face almost as concerned as hers. “Is she always this loud?”
“Apparently,” you say, trying to soothe her with gentle rocking. You glance up at Loki, unable to hide the faintest chuckle from your voice. “She’s already a menace, and she’s barely a day old.”
Loki frowns, but the corner of his lips twitches upward. “She is definitely your daughter.”
Despite your tiredness, you can’t help but laugh at that, a sound that feels strange after hours of intense labor. But the sound of your laughter calms Astrid down just enough for her to stop crying, and she latches onto your chest, beginning to nurse.
Loki stands by your side, looking down at both of you. “She is… so tiny,” he murmurs, his voice soft. He reaches out, brushing his fingers over her small head, his touch gentle. “And already so… demanding.”
“You’ll get used to it,” you say, your voice fond as you continue feeding Astrid. “She’s not going to let you off easy.”
Loki leans over and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I don’t mind,” he says, his voice quiet. “I will do anything for her.”
By mid-morning, it’s clear that your daughter has no plans of giving you and Loki a moment of peace.
Astrid refuses to sleep for long stretches, waking every hour or so to cry, demanding attention and comfort. Loki does his best to calm her, pacing the room with her in his arms, swaying gently as he tries everything in his power to soothe her. But nothing seems to work. The moment he sits down, she lets out another loud cry, and he’s back on his feet, bouncing her lightly, his voice low and soothing.
You watch him, amused and exhausted. “I told you,” you murmur, your eyes barely staying open as you sit up in bed, one hand cradling your daughter. “She’s a menace.”
Loki glares playfully at you. “I thought you said I’d have time to adjust to fatherhood.”
“I did,” you say with a grin. “But you’re learning very quickly, aren’t you?”
Loki sighs, but there’s a warmth in his expression, a tenderness that softens the usual sharpness of his features. “It seems as though she has no intention of allowing us any rest.”
You chuckle softly. “I’m afraid that’s true. But at least she’s ours.”
Loki looks down at Astrid, his expression filled with something unrecognizable—a mixture of pride, love, and the tiniest bit of fear. “She is.”
Just then, Astrid lets out another wail, her tiny face turning bright red as she starts to squirm in your arms.
Loki immediately springs into action. “I’ll take her,” he says quickly, leaning over and gently lifting her from your arms. He starts to pace again, his movements more frantic now. “What is it this time? Are you hungry again? Tired? Do you need—”
You smile at the sight of him. “She’s probably just gassy,” you say, trying to suppress a laugh.
Loki stops mid-pace, his eyes wide. “Gassy? How can something so small… be so loud?”
“She’s just working through it,” you say, leaning back into your pillows. “It happens. Trust me, you’ll get used to it.”
But Loki, despite the chaos, is calm, his touch gentle as he tries to settle her. He even starts humming softly, a tune you’ve never heard before, something low and soothing, just for her. Slowly, her crying begins to quiet.
“You’re a natural,” you murmur, eyes half-closed as you watch him.
Loki turns to look at you, a proud but weary smile curling at his lips. “Perhaps I am.”
The rest of the day is no less chaotic.
Astrid refuses to sleep for long periods, waking up every time you think you’ve finally managed to settle her. Loki continues to dote on her, but his patience is beginning to show the first cracks.
At one point, he carries her to you, his brow furrowed as if he’s at a loss. “I’ve tried everything,” he says. “She just won’t stop crying. What do we do now?”
You reach for Astrid, who, as if sensing her father’s distress, quiets immediately. You smile softly. “She likes to be close to me.”
Loki looks at you, then at her, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “And how do I fit into this equation?”
You chuckle as you rock Astrid gently. “You’ll have your turn, don’t worry. Right now, she just wants her mother.”
Loki crosses his arms, a bit put-out but not truly offended. “I suppose this is my life now,” he mutters. “Just… this.”
You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and carefree. “Oh, Loki. Don’t worry, you’ll be her favorite once she can talk.”
Loki’s eyes brighten slightly at that. “Really?”
You nod. “Really. And until then, you just need to be patient.”
“I am not used to patience,” Loki grumbles, but the corner of his lips twitches upward.
And so, the day passes—Astrid crying, then sleeping, then crying again. You and Loki barely have time to eat, let alone rest. But through it all, there is love. It is in every glance Loki gives you, every moment he spends with their daughter, every soft touch as he watches her sleep in his arms.
By nightfall, you are both completely exhausted. Loki collapses into the chair beside your bed, his eyes drooping, but he doesn’t stop staring at Astrid. You see the soft smile on his face, the way he still touches her with such reverence.
“I think,” you say, your voice heavy with sleep, “we’re going to have a long journey ahead of us.”
Loki sighs deeply, his head tilting back as he exhales slowly. “Yes,” he agrees, “but she’s worth it.”
You smile, your eyelids fluttering as the exhaustion finally catches up to you. “She is.”
And as you drift off to sleep, you can hear Loki’s soft humming once more, as if he’s trying to lull both you and Astrid into peaceful slumber. The chaos of the day fades away, leaving only the warmth of your family, together at last.
Astrid’s first steps are as monumental as they are unexpected.
One moment, she’s sitting on the floor, her little body teetering and swaying as she studies the world around her. And the next, she’s pushing herself up onto her feet, her tiny hands bracing against the soft rug beneath her. You and Loki exchange a glance across the room, both of you holding your breath as your daughter wobbles unsteadily, her eyes wide and focused.
Loki is on his feet immediately, ready to rush over to her if needed, but you gently take his arm to stop him. “Let her try,” you say, your voice a mixture of amusement and awe.
And try she does. Astrid takes her first shaky step, then another. Her arms flail out to her sides as she finds her balance, her legs trembling with the effort. For a brief moment, it seems like she’s going to fall, but then she straightens herself again, her tiny feet finding their way one after the other.
Loki gasps. “She’s walking,” he says, his voice full of disbelief.
You nod, a proud smile tugging at your lips. “She is.”
Astrid takes a few more steps, a grin spreading across her face as she realizes she’s doing something new, something important. You can see it in her eyes—a spark of excitement, the thrill of accomplishment.
But before she can get too far, she wobbles again, her balance faltering. With a soft thud, she sits down on the floor, her little legs splayed out beneath her.
You can’t help but laugh, a sound that makes Loki’s lips curl up in amusement. “She’s still getting the hang of it,” you say.
Loki shakes his head, his eyes glistening with something akin to wonder. “She’s so… so small.”
You approach her, crouching down as you offer her your hand. “You did great, sweetheart.”
Astrid looks up at you, her face lighting up with pride. She reaches out for your hand, her little fingers grasping at it.
Loki kneels beside you, his hand hovering just inches away from Astrid, clearly unsure whether he should pick her up or wait for her to reach him. But then, in the most unexpected of moments, she looks up at him, her expression intense.
“Dada,” she says, the word as clear as day.
Loki’s breath catches in his throat, his heart skipping a beat. For a moment, he just stares at her, frozen.
“Did she…?” you ask, unable to hide the surprise from your voice.
Loki, eyes wide and glassy, nods, though his lips are trembling. “She said it,” he breathes. “She said dada.”
Tears well up in his eyes, and you reach out to steady him as he kneels beside Astrid. He doesn’t speak for a long moment, his gaze fixated on her as if trying to comprehend what just happened.
“I never thought I’d hear it,” Loki whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Dada.”
You press your hand to his back, offering him the comfort you know he needs. You’ve always known how much this moment would mean to him. It’s a sign—of everything he’s done, everything he’s become.
Astrid, still looking at him with innocent curiosity, giggles softly, oblivious to the profound effect she’s had on her father. Loki lets out a shaky breath and smiles down at her, his fingers brushing through her hair in a tender gesture.
“You’re incredible,” he murmurs to her. “My little girl. My daughter.”
The months pass by, and with them, Astrid grows more and more. You and Loki find yourselves in a blur of milestones, each one more amazing than the last.
Her first teeth arrive one morning, when she’s playing with her favorite rattle, her mouth slightly ajar. You notice a slight shift in her usual babbling, a new sound that doesn’t quite belong. You peer down at her, only to find the tiniest glint of white peeking out from her gums.
“Loki,” you call, your voice excited.
He looks up from where he’s sitting, absorbed in his own work. “What is it?”
“Her teeth,” you say, motioning toward Astrid. “She’s got her first tooth.”
Loki gets up quickly, his eyes immediately scanning Astrid’s mouth. Sure enough, a small tooth is visible, barely breaking through the gum.
“That’s…” Loki’s voice falters, his emotions once again taking him by surprise. “She’s getting so big. It’s happening too fast.”
You smile softly, touching his arm gently. “They grow up so quickly. But it’s all part of it.”
Loki watches Astrid with a mixture of pride and bittersweetness. “I didn’t expect to feel so… overwhelmed. She’s so little now, and yet she’s changing every day. Soon she’ll be walking, talking…”
You chuckle softly. “She’s already talking.”
He nods, his gaze softening. “Dada.”
It isn’t long before Astrid’s first words become a bit more varied. She learns “mama” a few weeks after “dada,” much to your delight. But it’s “kitty” that seems to catch everyone’s attention.
One morning, as Loki is playing with her, a small tabby cat walks through the room. Astrid’s eyes light up, and she reaches out toward it, babbling happily.
“Kitty!” she exclaims, her voice high-pitched and full of excitement.
You freeze, turning to Loki. “Did she just say…?”
Loki, equally stunned, nods. “She did. She said ‘kitty.’”
Astrid grins at the cat, who seems oblivious to her excitement. She crawls toward it, her little hands reaching out to pet the animal, but the cat darts out of her way, much to her frustration.
“Kitty!” she says again, more insistently this time.
Loki chuckles softly, leaning down to scoop her up. “She already has her preferences.”
You smile at the sight of them, your heart full. “She’s growing so quickly. I can’t believe it.”
“I’m not ready for her to grow up,” Loki admits, his voice quieter than usual. “It feels like I blinked, and now she’s… saying words.”
“You’re doing great,” you say, offering him a reassuring smile.
But as the days go by, Loki’s protectiveness only grows. He watches over Astrid as she becomes more and more mobile, her curiosity leading her to explore every nook and cranny of the palace. She begins walking more confidently, her steps less wobbly, and her balance improving.
You find yourself laughing at her antics as she toddles around, mimicking what she sees. The other day, she tried to grab Loki’s cup of wine and nearly toppled it over. The look of determination on her face was enough to make you and Loki both laugh, though the incident was quickly followed by a stern warning that, no, Astrid was not allowed to touch his wine.
But the more she grows, the more she becomes a handful. Her toddler years are filled with discovery, questions, and an unrelenting energy that exhausts you both. And through it all, Loki stands beside you, equally smitten and overwhelmed.
By the time Astrid is two, she’s a little whirlwind of curiosity and endless chatter. She repeats words constantly, stringing together simple sentences with the clarity of someone far older than her age.
But there are still moments when she surprises you both with the things she says.
One evening, as you’re putting Astrid to bed, she looks up at you with a serious expression.
“Mama, dada,” she says, her tiny hands clutching the edges of her blanket.
You smile softly, brushing a lock of hair away from her forehead. “Yes, sweetie?”
“Love,” she says, her voice quiet but firm. “Love you.”
Loki, standing in the doorway, watches the scene with an expression of complete wonder. His heart skips a beat as Astrid’s words settle into the air.
“Love you, too,” he says softly, stepping forward to kiss her forehead.
You smile at Loki, reaching out to take his hand. Together, the three of you share a quiet moment, surrounded by the soft glow of the evening light. Astrid may be growing quickly, but she’s still your baby, and no matter how big she gets, she’ll always have your love and your protection.
Life at the palace with a toddler princess is nothing short of an adventure—a whirlwind of giggles, mischief, and the constant patter of tiny feet echoing through the grand halls. Astrid, now two years old, has fully embraced her royal upbringing in the most chaotic way possible.
She is adored by the people of Asgard, worshipped as their little star, their future. But more than anyone, she has her uncle Thor completely wrapped around her tiny fingers.
Thor, mighty god of thunder, is utterly smitten with his niece. His formidable strength and commanding presence mean nothing in the face of Astrid’s wide green eyes and mischievous smile. The moment she reaches for him, he is at her service, scooping her up into his arms with ease, letting her tug at his beard, climb all over him, and even demand stories of his grandest battles—though, of course, they are censored for toddler ears.
“I struck down an entire army with Mjolnir,” Thor boasts one evening, bouncing Astrid on his knee as they sit in one of the grand sitting rooms. “And do you know what they did, little one?”
Astrid gasps, wide-eyed. “What?”
“They ran!” Thor declares, making exaggerated motions with his hands.
Astrid squeals in delight, clapping her hands. “Boom!”
“Yes, boom indeed!” Thor laughs, setting her down so she can reenact the scene with all the dramatic flair of a warrior-in-training.
Loki, standing nearby with his arms crossed, watches the interaction with an unimpressed expression. “Wonderful. Just what we need. A two-year-old believing she, too, can strike down an army.”
“She can,” Thor argues, grinning. “She has the blood of warriors in her veins!”
Loki groans, rubbing his temple. “You’re encouraging bad habits.”
“Thor is fun!” Astrid insists, wrapping her tiny arms around her uncle’s leg in a show of loyalty.
Loki rolls his eyes. “Yes, well, Thor isn’t the one who has to keep up with you when you decide to start wielding weapons in the halls.”
Astrid beams up at Loki, her expression full of mischief. “Dada fun?”
Loki falters. His daughter has an uncanny ability to turn his heart into mush with a single look. He clears his throat, pretending to be unaffected. “Dada is fun,” he concedes, though his lips twitch in amusement.
Thor throws his head back and laughs. “She has you completely under her spell, brother.”
Loki scowls, but he can’t deny the truth of it. He would give Astrid anything she asked for, even if he pretended otherwise.
But unlike Thor, Loki is also the one who is painfully aware of every possible danger that could befall his little girl. His protectiveness borders on paranoia—watching every step she takes, ensuring she is never too far from his reach. He inspects every meal she eats, every toy she plays with, every person who dares to interact with her for too long.
It’s almost ridiculous, and you are the only one who can keep him in check.
“She is fine, Loki,” you tell him one afternoon when he refuses to let Astrid run freely through the palace gardens without staying two feet behind her.
“She could fall,” he argues.
“She will fall,” you counter. “That’s what children do. And then she’ll get back up.”
Loki sighs, watching as Astrid toddles through the grass, her little hands reaching out to grab at flowers. His jaw tightens when she stumbles slightly, but when she immediately stands back up and keeps going, you nudge him gently.
“See?” you say. “She’s strong, just like her father.”
Loki exhales, shaking his head. “I just… I can’t help it. She is so small.”
“She won’t always be,” you say softly. “Let her be little while she still can.”
Loki glances at you then, and for a moment, something shifts in his expression. His gaze flickers down to your hands, resting over your stomach, and a memory washes over him—of you carrying Astrid before she was even born, your belly swollen with life, the quiet nights where he had spoken to her before she ever took her first breath.
And suddenly, he wants it again.
It happens more and more often now—these moments where he catches himself staring at you, at Astrid, and thinking I want another.
He doesn’t say it aloud, not yet, but the thought lingers in the back of his mind every time he sees you holding Astrid, every time she reaches for you with sleepy little arms, curling up against you like you are the safest place in the world.
One evening, he finds you sitting in Astrid’s room, rocking her in your arms as she dozes off. He stands in the doorway, watching the way you hum softly under your breath, your fingers tracing slow, soothing circles against her back. The sight is so achingly familiar—reminiscent of when you had carried her inside of you, when you had cradled her before she was even big enough to sit up on her own.
A strange warmth spreads through his chest, a longing that he doesn’t know how to put into words.
You notice him watching and smile softly. “She’s finally asleep,” you whisper.
Loki steps into the room, his movements careful and quiet. He leans down to brush a kiss against Astrid’s forehead before straightening to meet your gaze.
You tilt your head at him, sensing something in his expression. “What is it?”
Loki hesitates, then shakes his head. “Nothing,” he murmurs.
But when he reaches out to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek, the tenderness in his touch tells you otherwise. You don’t press him for answers—not yet. Instead, you lean into him, allowing the moment to stretch between you, filled with quiet understanding.
Later that night, when you’re lying in bed together, he pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you in a way that feels more desperate than usual. He doesn’t say it—doesn’t voice the thoughts swirling in his mind—but you can feel it in the way he holds you, in the way he presses soft kisses against your shoulder, lingering there like he’s trying to commit the moment to memory.
And though he doesn’t say it yet, you already know.
Loki wants another baby.
And deep down, you know you’re not opposed to the idea.
Loki doesn’t know why it’s so difficult to say the words.
He’s never been one to hesitate, never been one to stumble over his own desires. And yet, every time he looks at you, every time he watches you cradle Astrid in your arms, every time he sees her tiny hands clutching onto you as if you are her entire world—he can feel the words bubbling up in his throat, but they never quite make it past his lips.
It’s ridiculous, really. You are his wife. You are the mother of his child. And yet, for some reason, asking you for another child feels more daunting than anything he has ever faced.
But one evening, after an exhausting day of chasing after Astrid (who has apparently decided that she no longer requires sleep and will instead spend her time trying to climb every surface in the palace), he finally gathers the courage to bring it up.
You’re sitting in bed, rubbing your temples, looking like you are seconds away from collapsing into sleep when Loki clears his throat.
You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
Loki hesitates for a fraction of a second before finally saying, “I want another child.”
Your hand freezes where it rests against your temple. You blink at him, eyes widening slightly. “I—what?”
Loki shifts uncomfortably, feeling oddly vulnerable. “I want another child,” he repeats, this time more firmly. “A sibling for Astrid.”
You stare at him, processing his words. Then, to his utter horror, you start laughing.
Loki scowls. “I fail to see what is so amusing about this.”
You shake your head, still chuckling. “Loki, have you met our daughter?” You gesture vaguely in the direction of Astrid’s room, where she is (hopefully) sleeping after a full day of causing chaos. “She is a menace.”
“She is two,” Loki argues.
“Exactly! And she already runs this palace like it’s hers.” You sigh, rubbing your face. “I mean, I do want another child, but are you sure we’re ready for that? Because last I checked, we can barely keep up with the one we have.”
Loki leans closer, his expression softening. “You do?”
You huff out a laugh. “Of course I do. But I’m just saying—”
“We’ll manage,” he insists. “We’ve done it before.”
You tilt your head at him. “Yes, but last time, Astrid wasn’t outside of me causing problems yet.”
Loki smirks. “So, you do admit she is a menace.”
You groan. “That’s not the point.”
Loki shrugs. “We will figure it out. I’m sure it won’t be that difficult.”
It is, in fact, very difficult.
The problem isn’t wanting another baby. The problem is having another baby when your current child refuses to allow you two a single moment alone together.
Astrid, despite her small size, has an uncanny ability to sense the exact moment you and Loki are about to have some time to yourselves and promptly decides that she desperately needs attention.
Every single time.
The moment Loki so much as touches your arm in that way, Astrid appears as if summoned by some ancient magic, demanding to be held, entertained, or carried around the palace like a tiny queen.
One night, after yet another failed attempt, Loki throws himself back onto the bed with an exasperated sigh. “This is absurd.”
You flop down beside him, equally frustrated. “Maybe we should explain to her that she needs to sleep in her own bed?”
Loki scoffs. “Oh, yes, because a two-year-old will surely listen to reason.”
You snort. “Okay, then what do you suggest?”
Loki groans, rubbing his face. “I don’t know. Perhaps we should leave her outside the door and simply refuse to open it.”
Unfortunately, he says this right as Astrid toddles into the room, clutching her stuffed animal.
She freezes, staring up at Loki with wide, betrayed eyes. “Dada?”
Loki immediately sits up. “I—”
Astrid’s lower lip trembles.
Your eyes widen in horror. “Oh, no.”
Astrid sniffs, her tiny face crumpling. “No leave me…”
Loki panics. “Astrid, no—”
But it’s too late. The wailing begins.
Loki stares, completely out of his depth, as his daughter throws herself onto the floor in the most dramatic display of devastation he has ever seen.
You immediately scoop her up, shushing her gently. “Sweetheart, no one is leaving you outside the door, I promise.”
Astrid clings to you, still sniffling, as she glares accusingly at Loki. “Dada mean.”
Loki sputters. “I was joking!”
Astrid is not convinced.
You shake your head at him. “This is your fault. You fix it.”
Loki sighs, reaching for his daughter. “Come here, my little terror.”
Astrid sniffles but allows him to take her, curling into his chest as he strokes her hair. “Dada loves you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“Not leave me?” she asks, still wary.
“Never,” Loki says firmly. “You are far too troublesome for me to abandon now.”
Astrid sniffles again but finally relaxes, resting her head against him.
You shoot Loki a look. “Well done.”
Loki groans, leaning back against the pillows with Astrid still in his arms. “Remind me again why we want another one?”
You grin, settling beside him. “Because despite all this, we love her more than anything.”
Loki sighs. “That does sound like something I would say, doesn’t it?”
You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “We’ll figure it out. Even if it means getting creative.”
Loki smirks. “I do excel at creativity.”
You roll your eyes. “Not that kind of creativity, Loki.”
Astrid mumbles something incoherent against his chest, already half asleep again.
Loki glances down at her and sighs, knowing full well that if he moves, she will wake up and the entire process will start all over again. He looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “So much for alone time.”
You snuggle into his side, resting your head against his shoulder. “There’s always tomorrow.”
Loki sighs dramatically. “Assuming she allows it.”
You grin. “She has to sleep sometime.”
Loki smirks. “Then we shall simply have to be faster.”
You laugh, nudging him playfully. “We’ll get there.”
And as the night settles around you, with Astrid sleeping peacefully between you, you know that, somehow, you always will.
It takes time, but eventually, the stars align.
Astrid, for once, does not burst into your chambers at an inopportune moment. The palace is calm, with no pressing matters dragging Loki away. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you and Loki have time to yourselves.
It’s been so long since you’ve had a moment like this—where it’s just the two of you, no toddler interrupting, no duties looming over your heads. And when Loki kisses you, when his hands skim your skin with the same reverence as they did years ago, you feel it down to your bones.
It’s only after some time has passed that you realize the truth.
The signs are subtle at first—the feeling of exhaustion that lingers even after a full night’s sleep, the way your body feels off in a way that’s difficult to explain. But then, your blood does not come, and suddenly, you know.
You don’t wait to tell Loki.
The moment you confirm it, you rush to find him, nearly colliding with a servant in your haste. Loki, ever perceptive, notices your excitement the second you burst into his study.
His eyebrows lift as he sets his book aside. “What is it?”
You barely contain your grin. “I’m pregnant.”
For a second, Loki just stares at you, as if he’s waiting for you to elaborate, as if he’s not quite certain he heard you correctly. Then, slowly, a grin spreads across his face.
“Again?” he breathes, pushing to his feet.
You nod, barely suppressing a laugh. “Yes, again.”
Loki crosses the room in an instant, sweeping you into his arms and spinning you around. You laugh as he buries his face against your neck, holding you tightly.
“You truly are remarkable,” he murmurs. “Another child?”
You hum, brushing a hand through his hair. “Another child.”
Telling your family and the court is easy. Frigga nearly weeps with joy, pressing both hands to her heart as she declares that this is the best news she has ever received. Thor clasps Loki’s shoulder with enough force to nearly knock him over, congratulating him with his usual boisterous enthusiasm. Even Odin, while far more reserved, offers his approval, though it is clear that it is Frigga who carries the true excitement for this new addition.
The celebrations that follow are grand, as they were with Astrid, with the people of Asgard rejoicing at the prospect of another royal child.
But there is one more person who needs to be told.
Astrid.
You and Loki wait for the right moment, deciding to tell her when she is relaxed and happy rather than when she is in the middle of one of her many dramatic fits. Eventually, you find your chance, with Astrid curled up between you both, playing with one of her stuffed toys.
Loki is the one who starts. “Astrid, darling, we have something to tell you.”
Astrid glances up at him, her tiny nose scrunching. “What?”
You exchange a glance with Loki before smiling at her. “You’re going to be a big sister.”
Astrid freezes, her fingers tightening around her toy. She blinks up at you both, processing your words. “A… a big sister?”
You nod. “That’s right.”
For a second, she says nothing. Then, to your absolute horror, her lower lip wobbles.
Loki stiffens. “Oh, no.”
Astrid’s voice is tiny when she speaks. “You don’t love me no more?”
Your heart shatters.
“Astrid, no!” You pull her onto your lap instantly, pressing kisses to her hair. “Sweetheart, we love you. So much. That will never change.”
Loki immediately follows suit, cupping her little face in his hands. “My love for you will only grow,” he assures her. “Just as it did when you were born.”
Astrid sniffles. “But—but now you have a new baby.”
You shake your head. “And we will love them just as much as we love you. But that doesn’t mean we love you less. You will always be our first, our little star.”
Loki nods firmly. “Nothing could ever take your place, Astrid. You are my heart.”
Astrid sniffles again, considering your words. Then, cautiously, she asks, “Can I still be a princess?”
Loki lets out a breath of relief. “Of course.”
Astrid looks down at her toy, processing everything. Then, suddenly, her eyes brighten. “Will the baby be my baby?”
You laugh. “Well, not quite. But you will be their big sister. You’ll get to help take care of them, and they will look up to you.”
Astrid’s little chest puffs up at that. “I’ll be a good big sister.”
Loki smirks. “Oh, I do not doubt it.”
Astrid wiggles excitedly in your lap. “Can I teach them stuff?”
You nod. “Of course, sweetheart.”
Her excitement grows. “Can I tell them stories?”
Loki chuckles. “Yes.”
Astrid gasps dramatically. “Can I be their queen?”
You and Loki exchange a look before you grin at her. “Let’s… start with big sister, and we’ll see from there.”
Astrid pouts for half a second before nodding. “Okay!”
And just like that, all of her fears seem to disappear.
Later that night, as she sleeps curled up between you both, Loki wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I knew she would come around.”
You laugh softly. “I still can’t believe she thought we wouldn’t love her anymore.”
Loki exhales, tightening his hold on you. “She is young. But now, she knows. And she will be the most unbearably doting big sister imaginable.”
You hum, smiling as you look at your sleeping daughter. “You’re probably right.”
Loki shifts, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “And you,” he murmurs, “are carrying another miracle.”
You turn to face him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I couldn’t do it without you.”
Loki smirks. “Well, I certainly contributed, didn’t I?”
You roll your eyes, laughing against his lips. “Go to sleep, Loki.”
And as the night settles around you, you know that this, this growing family, this love that surrounds you, will always be enough.
Romance, Spice & Set to Entice @clockblobber - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
