Just had a thought about the whole "I have been falling for thirty minutes!" thing in Ragnarok, because for Loki that must have been a triggering event after falling from the bifrost into the void, but his reaction once he finally stops falling seems to be frustration rather than fear. So he must have gone through so many feelings in those thirty minutes, like at first it must have been panic and fear and then maybe he realised it was a magical simulation of sorts and so turned to frustration and possibly boredom cos that must get pretty tiring.
But my main point is that at first that must have been a terrifying occurrence for him as a reminder of falling through the void which was something I hadn't thought about before so I wanted to share my thoughts
Hello there. Guess how much money I made last year? $28. I’m an investment banking analyst at a boutique firm, in M&A. I have my undergrad from the University of Chicago, one of the top schools in the country. With bonuses, sometimes I make even more. Are you jealous of that? Most people on Tumblr are usually jobless or they decided to major in the humanities and are poor.
Summary: Loki transforms into you while you have your back turned away. And he falls in love all over again. [WC 711][Ao3]
Request: @samanddeansannoyingsis Loki shifting to look like reader and just loving how soft and plush she is. Always wrapped up in her little sweaters and leggings. And suddenly he understands how beautiful she is.
Warnings: fluff, supportive loki
Loki had meant for it to be a joke. A harmless little trick. That was how it started, anyway.
You had wandered off to the kitchen in one of your usual cozy outfits—an oversized sweater that fell off one shoulder and soft leggings that hugged your legs. The Avengers Tower was quiet that afternoon, most of the team gone on missions or errands.
And Loki… well. Loki was bored. So naturally, mischief followed. A shimmer of green magic flickered around him in the hallway mirror as he altered his form. Not into Captain America. Not into Thor. Not into some intimidating warrior prince. No. Into you.
At first he grinned at his reflection. Your face stared back at him—your eyes, your mouth, the little crease between your brows when you were thinking too hard. “Hm,” he murmured, tilting his head. The voice was yours too. Softer than his. Warmer. Curious, Loki reached down and touched his—your—arm. And paused. “…Soft.”
His brows furrowed slightly as his hands wandered experimentally. The sweater sleeves hung over his hands. The knit was thick and warm, the sort of thing meant for curling up on a couch rather than ruling kingdoms. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers. Comfortable. Then he shifted again, touching his stomach. Your stomach. There was a softness there. Plush, warm, yielding beneath his palm in a way that startled him. He squeezed lightly. “…Oh.” Another squeeze.
Then a thoughtful hum. You had always described yourself with such cruel words. Too soft. Too much. Too plumpy. Yet standing there in your shape, Loki found himself… fascinated. His hands traced over the curve of your hips next. The softness of your thighs. The gentle weight of your body. It was warm. Real. Alive in a way sculpted warriors and statuesque Asgardians rarely were.
“You are built for comfort,” he murmured to the mirror, sounding almost reverent. He shifted his weight and the leggings stretched pleasantly as he moved. Flexible. Soft. Practical.
And suddenly— Suddenly he understood something that had puzzled him for months. Why he loved watching you curl up on the couch. Why your sweaters made him want to wrap his arms around you. Why the sight of you bundled in blankets made something strange and protective stir in his chest.
Because this body— Your body— Was made for warmth. For holding. For softness. His hands rested on the curve of your stomach again, thumbs rubbing lightly. “How have you convinced yourself this is anything but beautiful?” he murmured quietly.
Footsteps approached. Loki didn’t notice until you walked into the hallway and froze. Because standing in front of the mirror… Was you. Except the other you was poking thoughtfully at their stomach.
Your eyes widened. “…Loki?”
He turned. Your own face looked back at you with a slightly guilty expression. “Oh,” he said. Then he looked down at himself again, poked your stomach once more, and added thoughtfully, “I believe I owe you an apology.”
You blinked. “For what??”
“For not realizing sooner how lovely you are.”
You stared.
He gestured vaguely to himself. “This form is extraordinarily comfortable.”
“YOU ARE WEARING MY BODY LIKE A SWEATER.”
“And it is a very nice sweater.”
You marched forward, cheeks burning. “Turn back right now!”
Instead he tilted his head, examining you carefully. Then smiled. Slow. Fond. “Oh no,” Loki said softly. “I rather think I prefer you this way.”
Your brain short-circuited. “…What?”
His magic flickered, dissolving the illusion. Suddenly Loki stood in front of you again—tall, dark-haired, impossibly smug. But his hands moved immediately to your waist. Warm. Firm. Drawing you against him. Exactly where he’d just discovered he liked you most.
His arms wrapped around your soft middle like he had every right to be there. “You are warm,” he murmured against your temple. Your face felt like it might combust. “And soft.”
“…Loki.”
“And perfectly shaped for holding.” You tried to hide your face in his chest. He just hugged you tighter. “You should see yourself as I just did,” he added quietly. Because now he knew. Now he had felt it. Your warmth. Your softness. The way your body fit perfectly against someone who adored you. Loki pressed a kiss to your hair. “Magnificent.”
Character of your choosing giving their loved one flowers!? Happy valentine's day.
Loki had picked them all by hand, each individual flower carefully selected for her. He needed to be thorough, careful and thoughtful. He hadn't been very present as of late, suppose it wasn't his fault really but he felt the need to apologise for his absence. Everything was coming to a head now, the new king would be selected soon. Odin was close to making his decision and Loki was nervous. He wasn't a fool, he knew his brother would be chosen before Loki would ever be considered. It hurt but one must set things aside. Y/N sat by the vanity, removing her jewellery. Her reflection spots him, staring right at him. It was time for bed, it was late and here he was. Muddy boots and a bundle of flowers in his arms, he smiled at her.
''Oh Loki...''
She stood up from the vanity, hurrying over to where he was. He felt a bit guilty for tracking the mud from his mother's flowerbeds all over the floor but the servant's won't mind cleaning that up right? It didn't mean his wife wouldn't scold him but he'd take a scolding now, at least it would distract him from the events up ahead. Holding his breath as she kissed him, inner peace would be found here. Y/N accepted the flowers, taking them from him with a smile. So beautiful, Loki was fortunate to find at least one person who didn't fear him. He enjoyed her companionship, his love for her felt endless.
''Are these your mother's lilies?''
Loki chortles.
''Maybe.''
She took a moment to appreciate the flowers, suppose Loki did rob his mother's garden of a handful of flowers. She could just grow some more, couldn't she? Loki's mother would forgive him right? Those flowers were after all for love, they served a purpose. Y/N laughs, holding the flowers closer to her chest. He'd give her flowers every day, any day.
''Loki, did you pick your mother's prized lilies for me?''
Alright, his mother might get a bit mad at him for picking those.
➳ 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.
this is a weird and specific request, but could you make a fic where reader has curly hair and house helps them to style it?
>>>Curl Theory<<<
Summary: Your curls have declared war on you. Unfortunately for House, he happens to be present when the battle begins… and somehow ends up personally involved in trying to tame them.
