sooooo..... imagine having to social isolate/quarantine away from loki so you're just seeing eachother through glass windows or something?? and like once you do see eachother you have to tell him to keep his distance and he would be so grumpy
a quick fluffy quarantine piece cause i have to start practicing writing faster…
i’ll be answering the asks in my inbox soon, i’m sorry, i’m not ignoring you!
warnings: covid-19 mentions? but not really, just quarantine. mischief and kisses.
“You’re just gonna sit there? Really?”
Loki nods, one firm jerk of his head. “You better believe it.”
Heaving a sigh, you lob a book at his chest and it goes right through him. On the futon to your left, another Loki appears, arms still crossed tight over his chest, brow furrowed, slumped into the widest manspread you’ve ever seen.
That’s the fourth Loki in the room, now. One on the couch, one on the counter next to the fridge, one perched atop the stack of books that started this whole ordeal. This one makes four, all scowling at you.
“I’m not changing my mind,” you tell him, ignoring each one of him as you bustle about, picking up papers and righting the throw pillows on the couch.
“You are impossibly stubborn,” he replies.
“Thank you.”
“You’d make a lovely queen,” the third Loki says, “but let’s not dwell on that right now.”
“Particularly evil, too,” another adds. “You know I love that dress.”
Of course you do, but he’d been being such a pain with this whole “reduced touching,” social distancing thing that you couldn’t help but hit him where it hurts.
Quarantine hit your newlywed household hard, dumping the two of you out of the honeymoon phase and directly into learning how the other operates when left entirely to their own devices.
Loki, it turns out, reads. And writes. And draws. And, around evening time, must cook or bake something or else he’ll be miserable.
Oh, and the last thing: he moves from one thing to the next so quickly, he forgets to pick any of it up when he finishes, leaving the most intellectually chaotic mess atop every surface in the house.
Stacks of books have taken up residence as your new nightstands, coffee tables, and catch-alls, and most of them have a plate with half a scone sitting on their covers, or a coffee cup with one last sip at the bottom, or a cup of tea gone two days cold and leaving a beige ring on his copy of Skáldskaparmál.
You’d had enough. Granted, you weren’t doing the greatest with the quarantine yourself, but the both of you can’t be messy in this new home. One is enough.
“Well,” you huff, and walk right through the Loki in the doorway to the kitchen, “enjoy the view. That’s all you’re getting.”
His pout reaches a new level of pathetic.
It’s one of both of your favorite dresses, the kind of dress that gives you the motivational kick you need to walk with your head held high, the kind that makes you feel unstoppable, like you can accomplish anything in the world.
So when you woke up today, decided today would be the day you tackle the house, you knew you needed to pull out the dress. Plus it would be some good leverage with the pouty prince…
“You’re being unreasonable,” the pouty prince announces. You give him a hearty scoff, eyebrows lifting as you start dismantling one of the book towers by the end of the couch.
“Am I, now?”
“Yes. I’m a god, I can’t get sick.” One of the Lokis hops off the counter and trails after you. “I am the furthest from being at risk of this virus, I think we’re safe enough to kiss—”
“How do we know that?”
“I’m literally a god. Ask Thor, he’ll tell you.”
You almost turn around and kiss him just to shut him up, but catch yourself just in time, resolving to purse your lips at him instead. “That’s not what I mean. I know you’re a god or whatever. I just don’t want to take the chance of either of us getting sick anyways.”
“That,” he says, and the clone steps towards you, “is a risk I’m willing to take.”
He takes your face in his hands, his weirdly warm, seidr-made hands, and leans in to kiss you deeply. You let him, eyes rolling with a sigh and eyebrow quirked as the foggy apparatus of your husband tries to kiss you with the same fervor as if it were really him.
It’s close, definitely close—but it’s still just slightly off. Too warm, too tingly against your lips; he leaves behind a bit of a buzz, and not necessarily the pleasant kind. More along the lines of electricity, an electric shock and static in the air.
“Good enough.” You pat the clone’s cheek and your hand goes through him again, fingertips right through his frown. “Satisfied?”
“Satisfaction is not in my nature,” the real Loki replies, his frown deeper as he stares at the two of you. “Though we do make an attractive couple, I have to admit.”
“Damn right,” you grin, tossing him a wink before turning back to the book stack. There’s a Loki in every direction, watching you, pouting, all desperate to touch you and the original one is chewing his lip.
That can’t be good.
“All of you pick a stack,” you order, waving a hand at the library that exploded in your living room. “You can’t all just stand here and gawk. You’ve got to sort these out, Lokes, it’s getting out of hand.”
The four of them do as you say, grumbling the whole way and throwing you dirty looks. The real Loki plops himself on the floor in front of one of the bookshelves and starts rifling through an array of papers, occasionally crumpling one into a ball and tossing it at you.
And a few seconds later, another one boinks you on the head.
Then another.
“Loki!”
“Hm?”
“Stop it.” You give him your most threatening glare, adding another book to the midgardian must-read pile. “Stop thinking about it, you’ll get used to this.”
“I don’t want to get used to this,” he replies with a huff and rips a piece of paper in two. “I miss you.”
“It’s been barely four days.”
He closes his eyes with a sigh and flops back onto the floor, throwing a dramatic arm over his face. “That’s already far too long.”
“It’s for our own good! Just until we’ve flattened the curve, okay?”
His elbow lifts and one eye cracks open; with a sly smile like that, you know what he’s thinking before he’s even said it.
“Darling, none of the curves I’m interested in have any business being flattened.”
You spin and lunge at him.
He shrieks, but your reaching hands go right through him and instead of landing on him like you’d hoped, you faceplant on the floor, no Loki in sight.
Besides the other three laughing at you from behind, of course.
“I hate you,” you mutter, picking yourself back up and tossing a paper ball at the Loki leaning by the tv. He catches it, and you make a mental note that that’s the real one. “Face me yourself, coward.”
“Oh, those are fighting words,” all three of him grin.
Fighting, huh?
“Fighting” with Loki takes a different kind of intellect. You can’t just hide his stuff or fill his hairdryer with baby powder, petty pranks don’t work on him. You have to hit him were it hurts. And be three steps ahead.
Lucky for you, there’s three Lokis conveniently in the room.
“I need you,” you start slowly, working your way towards the Loki on the left.
The duplicate swallows hard, watching you sidle up closer to him than you have been in the past four days. You can feel the other two Lokis burning gazes on the back of your head, especially when you run your hand up the faded, glowing god’s warm chest.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, leaning into you, “I need you, too.”
“I need you,” you tell him again, your voice dropping to a low purr, “to go clean up the mess you left on my desk.”
A moment of hesitation crosses the clone’s face—then he mutters a “yes, ma’am” and trudges off to the office.
“What’s your play here, love?” Loki asks, raising an eyebrow at you.
You just give him a sickly sweet smile—one that sends his heart pounding, much to his dismay—and sashay your way to the other clone, the one on the right, sitting on the sofa. “Getting you to cooperate.”
This clone grabs you by the waist and pulls you into his lap before you can get handsy with him, but you don’t mind. It’s too easy—you can literally make Loki jealous of himself.
“And what should I have you do?”
“Anything,” the Loki answers earnestly.
“I’m wondering if we should remodel completely,” you muse, stroking a hand through his hair. “That wall could go. Then we can make that entire wall a built in bookshelf. What do you think, sweetheart?”
“Wonderful idea. I love it.” He nods a bit too enthusiastically. “And I think the kitchen needs new cupboards and countertops, everything’s too dark and closed off in here. I prefer open concept, don’t you?”
“Ooh, you’re a sweet one.” Glancing up at the fuming Loki you left by the tv, you give him another grin. “You get a kiss, for that. Can I keep you?”
Real Loki narrows his eyes and bares his teeth, bringing a laugh from your throat as you take Loki’s face in your hands and press your lips to his, ready for the familiar shock and warm buzz of his seidr on your skin.
Instead, he’s solid. Very, very solid. And a little cold, impossibly soft, and his hands don’t have that mystical warmth of a clone when they run down the curve of your back, pulling you closer into him as he kisses you as well as he possibly can.
Wait.
“Loki…”
“Mm,” he replies, and a hand slips behind your neck to keep you in place.
“You little shit—”
He just kisses you harder, muffling his laughter with your lips and pulling you flush against him.
The Loki by the tv fades into nothing with a wave of his hand.
In the glow of a bedroom lamp, a sturdy wooden bed comfortably contains a couple with their books. There is an odd tension, but also understanding. Your husband patiently flips a page. Your thoughts break the silence.
“You died. Again. Each time you must fight through worlds and realities unlike our own. How do I know this is all of you?” A pause as you smile calmly. You place both books aside in order to rest your head on Loki’s bare chest, stroking his collarbone. “This feels like you. And (miraculously..) you always remember just how far we have come. I see in your soul our rich history. I see your pain. I see hope and pride and that deep persistent kindness you desperately--yet never do--want to reveal. I have been the salvation of worlds, a patient watcher, quite literally an angel among gods,” sorrowfully looking into his eyes, you breathlessly mutter, “yet, I always question if I am enough.”
“Oh, my darling,” he says, his thumb stroking the softness of your hand, “you can never know how much I love you. You will never know because I do not how to measure this terrifying, consuming grasp. You haunt me. You mesmerize my depths. You stir a soothing rhythm in my soul. You...”
Here he pauses. A look mixed of terror and adoration, he stares at you. In this small moment, he is caught. Something deep in himself seems to want to scream. A tense gulp and shy eyes, he looks away.
“You have me.”
This vulnerability, raw and grasping for acceptance, for forgiveness.
“My wife. Always.”
Goosebumps trail down your neck at hearing your word of affirmation; one that is whispered when you are unsure if he hears from afar.
Loki holds you firmly in his arms, kissing the top of your head. And you know he is content.
Y/n hums softly, a tune that Freya had taught her, while working quietly at the table by her bedroom window. Loki had gone off with his brother and some type of mission for Odin, or at least that is what he told her. But there had been something in his tone to say otherwise. She sighs softly as she continues but is interrupted by three sharp knocks to the door.
Getting up quickly, Y/n hurries to the door and opens it. She straightens her back and smiles, "Allfather, is there something that I can aid you with?"
"Where is my son, where are my sons?" He pushes himself in a look around her and Loki's shared room. She backs away from the door and frowns, watching him with confusion. Y/n follows Odin as he walks further into her bedroom.
"I'm sorry? I don't understand, is he not on a mission you sent him on?"
Odin sends off a flare of anger and frustration that makes Y/n's lungs constrict painfully. She grimaces and gasps, bringing her hand to her chest. Odin swivels to face her, he reaches for her and grabs her arm painfully. "Show me," he orders. "Show me that you speak the truth!" Quickly she does, showing her honest confusion, that there is nothing making her feel shameful or secretive.
He lets her go and massaging where he held her, Y/n asks, "What's wrong, Odin?"
"Thor has disobeyed and gone to Jotenhiem!" Odin growls and turns away from Y/n, walking back to the door.
Y/n follows quickly. "What?"
But Odin does not stop, shutting the door loudly behind her before she could follow him out. She gasps, her brows furrowing as she stares at the door. She looks down at her arm and grits her teeth before asking herself quietly, "Loki lied to me?"
*
Loki comes home later angry, he storms into the room and scares Y/n awake when he slams their door shut. She hears the clatter of metal hitting the ground and tries seeing through the darkness for him but only feels his anger. His fear.
"Loki?" she calls out, pushing herself up on the bed and crawling down. Y/n gaps when she nearly crawls off the bed but Loki happens to be on the end and catches her. Grimacing as Loki's anger burns her she pulls herself back onto the bed and sits back. "What is it, what's wrong?"
He's silent for a moment before she hears him sigh and feels his sit on the bed. "I'm sorry that I burned you."
Any anger that Y/n had before for him lying to her fades away and she sighs softly, scooting closer to him and leaning against his shoulder. "It's alright, love." Loki scoffs but pulls her to his chest and buries his face into her hair, smiling when he feels that she has bedhead. Loki takes in a deep breath and pulls her even closer and Y/n lets him. Her brows furrow together when she hears and feels his heart hammering against his chest.
"You lied to me," Y/n says softly. She takes a deep breath, "Odin came, he was furious. He didn't even have to touch me to affect me."
"What happened?"
"It hurt my chest," she murmurs quietly. "Made it hard to breathe, but he wasn't there long before he ran off." Y/n runs her hands across Loki's back and sides, continuing, "He came in demanding to know where you are and then when I said I didn't know, he made me show him that I was telling the truth."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gone."
Remorse and regret flood Y/n and makes her eyes water. She sniffs and pulls back to wipe her eyes. Loki feels for her, bringing his hands to cup her cheeks and wipe her tears with his thumbs. "Please don't cry," he begs softly. "I don't think I handle it."
Y/n laughs tearfully and nods, "I'm not meaning to." She sniffs again and holds her hands against Loki's. "What happened?"
"Thor's arrogance has ruined everything," Loki whispers. "He nearly got what he calls his friends killed. If not for father..." Loki sighs and Y/n feels him shift, "... I don't think I'd have come home to you." Y/n gasps and leans towards him, falling back into his arms. Chuckling, Loki takes her with open arms.
"Are you hurt?" She asks, voice nearly silent, afraid of the answer.
Loki pauses, thinking back at the events of Jotenheim, he swallows thickly and answers, "No."
*
Y/n stands quietly at her husband's side, watching him and his emotions with a sharp eye. When Odin fell asleep, he changed. Everything changed. It was almost like before they had gotten married. That terrified her. Loki tried ignoring the knowledge of this. Tried to keep himself focused on his plan.
But he still loves her.
*
"Please, my love, stop this!" Y/n begs, following Loki as he paced his throne room. A place he stays more than anywhere else.
"No!" he exclaims, turning on his heel to glare deeply at her. Loki points a threatening hand at her and takes a step towards her, "Do not ask me this again."
Y/n whimpers softly, "Why are you doing this? Is there nothing that I can do?"
Loki's eyes narrow and he takes another menacing step towards his wife who responds by stepping back in fear. "Do you not trust me, wife? Are you just like them?" Loki points to the door leading out of the throne room. "DO YOU THINK I'M UNWORTHY AS WELL?!"
Y/n stares at him tearfully, letting her arms fall to her side, her entire body deflating. "Yes." She says finally, the tears she had tried so fiercely to keep from falling slide slowly down her cheeks. She looks down at the floor in shame and wipes them off quickly. Loki stopped, he freezes where he stood, his heart breaks. Y/n sobs as she feels it and covers her face in shame as she cries, only pulling her hands down to say, "I don't want to! But this is not as a king should act!" She looks up to see Loki staring at her with his own cheeks wet with tears. "I love you but I am terrified of you, Loki."
"I made you queen," he says quietly, staring at her deeply.
"No," Y/n says, shaking her head firmly. "I have no voice, I can do nothing. I can only stand by your side and watch in horror as you continue to do wrong and pray that one day you will listen to my pleas to stop."
"I have done this for us!" Loki yells at her, anger returning.
"You've done this for yourself!" She can only yell back now, "You do his in hope that when Odin wakes he will see what you've done and what you're planning on doing, that you finally be in his proud gaze. That he will choose you! None of this is for us!"
Loki grits his teeth and glowers at Y/n. "Then why do you stay!" He speaks with venom, "Leave if it's so terrible!"
Y/n falters, gasping softly. "You don't mean that."
"Leave, Y/n." Loki says darkly, "Before I do something that we'll both regret." Y/n watches with wide eyes as Loki turns from her, walking back up the steps and sitting down on the throne. He raises his chin and stares down his nose at her, waiting.
Blinking rapidly, Y/n nods and licks her lips. "Fine," she breathes, she turns away from Loki and walks to the door. Stopping to look down at the ring on her hand, she twists it around her finger before taking a deep breath and pulling it off, turning back to Loki and holding it up with a bitter smile. "Catch," she says before throwing it at him. Loki does and looks at the ring with confusion, then anger.
He looks back up at her and raises his chin, "So be it."
Part 1
All Fics: @marvels-queen-bee @breezy1415@sergeantjbuckybarnes @gingergirl967-writer @metal-armed-dino@memyselfandmaddox @spideypooler03@beets1bears1battlestargalactica
All Fics: @marvels-queen-bee @breezy1415@sergeantjbuckybarnes @gingergirl967-writer @metal-armed-dino@memyselfandmaddox @spideypooler03@beets1bears1battlestargalactica
All Fics: @marvels-queen-bee @breezy1415@sergeantjbuckybarnes @gingergirl967-writer @metal-armed-dino@memyselfandmaddox @spideypooler03@beets1bears1battlestargalactica
Our Powerful Emotions: @hiddlestoner3059
I tried finding the place where this was requested to make sure that its’ actually been requested and by the person above but now I’m not sure so if not then here’s something extra!
a collection of a fifty+ part storyline aiming to give Loki the happy ending that he deserved.
— PAIRING: Loki x fem!reader
— WARNINGS: drabbles have their various warnings. everything from suggestive quips to heart wrenching angst, with a majority of ridiculously fluffy goodness.
— NOTES: i write everything out of order! what started as drabbles started connecting and became this. i do not own any rights to Loki or the MCU, nor receive any profit from these works. this is just writing for my own educational, nonprofit purposes!
this story is incomplete. i have a million drafts and requests in the works that will be filling in many of the gaps in this storyline as well as continuing it. thank you so very much for your support, comments and feedback truly, truly keep me going! happy reading!
it’s complicated
~~ shawarma
~~ nipnops
~~ is that—is that stubble??
~~ enemies to fake lovers
~~ don’t you dare
~~ coworkers
~~ loki just wants his snickers
~~ put on a smile, pork chop
~~ there was only one chair
~~ spilt coffee
~~ lunch break
~~ don’t touch me
~~ mind games
~~ softer sides
~~ people like you?
~~ that’s my boyfriend
~~ ...progress?
~~ let me bleed
~~ haircuts and interrogations
** more coming soon between these**
~~ what is this?
~~ a drunken confession (possible placeholder)
** more coming soon between these**
~~ i want you (au)
in a relationship
~~ first-ish date
~~ favourite hoodie
~~ celebrity crush
~~ loki’s library
~~ thor.
~~ sunflowers
~~ loki’s sense of humor
~~ thankful for you
~~ november first
~~ attempt number one
~~ evil nose
~~ i’m going to marry you
~~ the proposal—wait no, jk
~~ dance lessons
~~ ormstunga
~~ a proposal
married
~~ not-so-royal wedding
~~ the morning after
~~ i licked it, so it’s mine
~~ second time’s the charm
~~ true form
~~ nicknames and braids
~~ quarantine
~~ definition of perfection
~~ getting ready
~~ valentine’s day
~~ an office visit
~~ disgusting domesticity
~~ love is pain (au)
~~ nipples.
~~ home late
~~ gingerbread messes
~~ i miss you, you know.
~~ easy like a sunday morning
~~ jealous kisses
~~ i’m in pain. period.
~~ safety dance
~~ do you want to have a baby?
we’re expecting
~~ i’m pregnant...
~~ appreciation
~~ you’re not driving.
~~ elliot?
~~ loki’s sleepy :’)
~~ nursery painting, ‘nuff said
proud father of a dumbass kid
~~ unexpected
~~ elliot.
~~ dusted (au)
~~ baby fever
~~ first time in asgard
~~ baby’s first christmas
~~ ah-loo!
~~ kings don’t change diapers
~~ dentist trip
~~ tessi the tesseract
~~ syrupy slip-up
~~ foot massage
~~ true loves kiss...blegh.
~~ hide n seek
~~ the mini-asgardians
~~ you’re not dying.
~~ you lost your kid?
~~ i saw mommy kissing santa claus
~~ tired + horny parents
~~ disneyland
~~ little monster
~~ lonely
we’re expecting more
~~ don’t tell dad.
~~ the Question
~~ like real people do
~~ microwave baby
~~ simple-thee pains
~~ peppermint and tears
proud father of two dumbass kids
~~ frigg.
~~ mortality
~~ frigg’s favourite
~~ bappy hirthday, momma
~~ frigg made me do it
~~ bad timing
~~ pantless prince
~~ blue
~~ a good friend
~~ morgan potts-stark
~~ so there’s this girl.
~~ a study in hands
~~ frostbite prevention
greater expectations
~~ ew, Elliot, that’s gross
~~ ew, Elliot, that’s still gross
~~ the twins!! (au)
* * * * * * *
fuel the writer? :’)
you’re all incredible and every ounce of support you give is just more fuel to this writing fire, which means more content for you!!
Loki owns every single ounce of soul and my body radiates an overwhelming amount of uwu energy every time I see him it’s unhealthy. In other words, i wanna marry him oeriodt
good news babe, now you can ;)
here it is folks, the wedding of you and Loki.
it’s just the ceremony, i might do something about a reception later and will definitely be doing some honeymoon stuff !! but for now…here’s a very long piece about your wedding! ENJOY.
Everything concerning Loki is complicated; his past, his present, his future, his heritage, his family, his species, his abilities, his ambitions, his reasoning…
The list goes on.
You knew this. You know this, and yet here you are, stepping out from behind an oak tree, giggling and barefoot and arm in arm with your best friend, coming to greet him at the alter.
Nothing has ever been simple. Not when you met him and you each tried your respective times to kill each other, not when he spent a couple years convincing himself he hated you and that’s why you were in his head all the time, not when he had to somehow win your trust.
It’s been complicated. Complicated fights, complicated dates, complicated forgiveness.
A complicated wedding, too, which is why you’d agreed to just have a tiny little wedding in an Asgardian forest, miles out from the border, with barely ten people invited to attend.
The bigger ceremony can happen later. Right now, with the setting sun glowing off Loki’s pale skin, all that matters is making him yours.
It’s surprisingly simple, actually. Loki’s surprised. A couple chairs were set up in a little clearing of trees, shrouded by the oak branches with only a few rays of evening sunlight seeping through, and a walkway of smooth stones had been laid as a kind of alter.
No giant centrepieces to decide on, no music to choose, no kingdoms you have to invite so they don’t get offended, no sacrificial goat to find. Tonight, all you have to worry about is that Thor doesn’t cry too much while he officiates, thus setting the wedding back an hour.
And that you don’t completely lose your shit.
He looks so good.
You’ve never seen Loki looking so…so relaxed, so casual, so sure of himself. He looks confident, for once, genuinely confident in what he’s doing—or about to do.
On the inside, though, he’s a wreck. A nervous, giddy wreck, positive that you’re going to turn on your heel and run away, going to look once at him and find him disgusting, just as you should have since the moment he fell for you, just as you did the moment you met.
His hands shake and he shoves them in his pockets, swallowing hard when you step out from behind the tree.
Your friend insisted on that—“you still need a grand entrance, I wanna see if he cries”—and since there’s only an archway of tree branches tied together with fairy lights for you to walk through, the tree trunk will have to do as a cover.
You’re just as nervous as Loki, if you’re being completely honest. Just…marrying him.
This is kind of a big deal.
A little bit life changing, really, and when you think back to all that had to happen to get you to this point, the nervousness just multiples.
But, the smile that paints your face is in every way childish. Ridden by giggles, a nervous, anxious, excited mess of emotions and then you see him, waiting for you, and the space between you seems infinite and nonexistent at the same time.
Loki’s breath catches.
A sniffle is heard from the make-shift alter—not from the groom. Thor rubs his eyes and stands up straighter, trying his absolute hardest not to pull his brother into a bone-crushing hug.
Loki looks different.
Different than when you first met him. His hair is different, a little longer, cleaner, not so messy and untamed, tied half-up with a couple braids hidden in his almost curls. The thin gold cuffs at the ends of each braid glint in the sun when he moves.
He’s not covered in blood and rubble like he was when you met him, either. He’s not so pale, not so thin, so gaunt, and his eyes are much closer to green than blue when you meet his gaze and give him an excited, scrunched-up little smile.
Loki smiles back and that’s when it hits him: his eyes are swimming in seconds and he chews his lip, casting his gaze to the trees above and praying the tears don’t fall.
Things like this…don’t happen to Loki Laufeyson.
He doesn’t get the girl, doesn’t get to have a beautiful wife. An intimate, beautiful wedding is just something he dreamt of as a child, something that helped him fall asleep, just like that immature dream of having someone to hold close every night, lured to sleep by their warmth.
A few steps closer, he has to swipe a hurried hand over his cheek, and you bite back another excited laugh—there. You got him to cry.
You never thought you’d be the person to make someone cry tears of joy on their wedding day, much less someone who cries so beautifully.
This isn’t the first time you’ve seen Loki cry, but it’s definitely your favourite.
Your hands meet before you’ve even noticed covering the distance. The coldness of his skin is normal now, for whatever the reason you’ve stopped caring, and you wind your fingers through his and grin at his teary face before turning to Thor.
“Hey,” Thor chokes out with a smile, “are you two ready?”
You nod, Loki wonders if no is even an option.
He’s not ready at all, because as soon as this starts, it’ll be over, and this beautiful little ceremony is an end he doesn’t want to face. He’s not done marvelling at you, his soon-to-be wife, he hasn’t fully memorised what you look like this evening, he isn’t ready to let it end and lose this dreamlike trance where no past can intrude.
But Thor starts talking anyways, interrupted by an occasional sniff, and Loki’s left grasping at the moment.
He hasn’t even gotten to look at you, to truly ingrain your image in his mind, so as Thor begins to recite the service he’s read over time after time again, Loki’s gaze turns to you and everything else seems to fall silent.
Blue.
He’d expected green, to be completely honest, you know what you do to him when you wear his colour, but you’d surprised him with the pale blue dress.
A wonderful decision he could never thank you enough for.
You’re…a dream. You could be a light elf, with the way the setting sun beams down on you, but no, actually, no light elf could even come close to comparing with your beauty.
The dress floats over you, thin straps keeping it secured over your shoulders, that pale blue fabric softer than silk when his hand slips helplessly to the small of your back.
You’re real, solid flesh and bone under his hand. Breathing, living, a bouquet of white roses and sparse, leafy twigs in one hand, the other finding its way to his back and rubbing soothing little circles.
He’s staring and doesn’t plan on stopping. You catch his eye and send him a comforting wink.
It’s a simple dress, nothing to distract from the wearer. His gaze travels the length of it, from your bare feet to the thin gold chains around your ankles, to the smile dusting your lips, to the crown of olive branches and tiny white flowers his brother just placed on your head.
You nudge him in the side.
“Hm?”
Your crown, you mouth, nodding at Thor. You okay?
Shaking himself out of his daze, Loki blinks and looks back at Thor.
“…sorry. Where are we?”
“I’m crowning you,” Thor whispers, holding up the other crown of olive leaves and flowers, the connecting satin ribbon tugging on yours as he does. “Remember? ‘With these crowns, your power becomes shared, and with these crowns, your rule becomes one, to grow only in unity and to prosper as—’”
“Alright, yes, yes, I remember.”
You bite back a laugh as Loki runs an exasperated hand over his face, then bows his head to allow Thor to place the other crown over his head.
“Hey, sunshine,” you whisper when you duck your head as well, taking his hand between the two of you. “Are you okay?”
“Never better.” He squeezes your hand, a sideways smile flashing your way. “You look beautiful.”
“So do you,” you laugh quietly. “Now shush, this is important.”
“No, it’s not.” He knows he’s not necessarily supposed to touch you more than just holding your hand, but he strokes the backs of his fingers along your cheek anyways, smiling softly at you. “It’s not.”
“Shh.”
With a teasing roll of his eyes he turns his gaze back to the ground, hand dropping from your cheek back to hold your hand tightly between the two of you.
You do look beautiful in blue. Absolutely breathtaking, jaw dropping, stunning.
The longer he stands there, slowly forgetting who he is and focusing on who he’s going to become for you, the more he wishes he had told you his only secret.
Half of him thinks you might already know about his true heritage—the blue dress, the fact that you don’t ask why he’s so cold anymore. But…if you knew, you wouldn’t be standing next to him today, marrying him.
He wishes he had told you from the beginning.
“No good marriages begin with secrets.”
Frigga was an absolute hypocrite for telling him that, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
He’ll tell you soon. He knows he will, or, honestly, he might just bury that monstrous part of himself so deep that you never have to know. It wouldn’t be living a lie if he forgets it’s part of his truth, right?
“I will.”
Damn it, he missed it.
“Wait—no, can you repeat that part?” He quickly blinks back to reality, cursing himself for being so consumed in his thoughts that he’s missing his actual wedding. “Sorry, sorry.”
Thor gives a knowing smile. “Of course. Will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold, to cherish and honour, to treasure and love until death do you part?”
“I will,” you repeat, the grin evident in your voice. “I will.”
Loki swallows thickly, eyes burning. You accepted him again. To have him, to keep him, to love him and allow him to be your husband.
People don’t…want him, Loki knows that.
Not his birth parents, not even his adoptive parents, not your world nor his own, everywhere he’s gone has rejected him. No one wants Loki.
You, though, seemed to have skipped right over wanting him and decided to love him.
Husband.
He likes the title more than he ever liked prince, and much more than he ever liked king.
“And will you, Loki, have this woman to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold, to cherish and honour, to treasure and love until death do you part?”
A couple birds chirp overhead.
“Loki?”
His eyes have glazed over, dewy skin glowing in the rays of sunlight, a strand of hair fluttering over his face every time the wind blows.
“Loki.” You nudge him in the arm, an amused smile playing at your lips. “Can you answer him? I’d really like to kiss you already.”
He chokes out a laugh at that, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, sheepishly trying to get a hold of himself. “Of course I will,” he laughs, looking up at the trees and letting out a long breath. “I will.”
Beaming at him, you give his hand another reassuring squeeze and nudge him again.
“I will,” he whispers once more, staring at you. “For all eternity.”
Ohhhh goodness.
Why does his softness make your heart ache like this, how did he become so gentle??
“Hurry up and finish,” you laugh to Thor, heart pounding. “I’m not gonna last much longer, he’s…god, he’s just…hurry.”
Loki’s heart sinks a little, he can’t help it. This is nice, standing here with you, his brother bringing you together, your closest friends and family sharing the moment. It’s nice and warm, and Loki feels surrounded by a strange sense of home, for once.
Don’t hurry. He closes his eyes to focus in on the feeling of your hand in his. Don’t hurry, don’t end this moment.
Warm skin, soft skin, gentle fingers. Only one ring on your ring finger so far, bringing him back to reality right as Thor hands him the small box holding the rings.
He lets out a shaky breath and you turn to him—this time, it’s your breath that catches.
You hadn’t quite fully taken in all of…him.
Loki smiles, turning to face you and holding out the rings in an open palm. “Shall we?”
“Wait,” you breathe, clutching his ring in a tight fist. “Give me a second, I-I need to memorise how…perfect my life is right now.”
His heart twists as you look around, an uncontrollable smile growing over your face as you take in the little clearing amidst the trees, the sun rays cutting through their canopies, the couple people watching, until your gaze lands back on Loki.
Your eyes burn as you look at him, your husband, with his anxious little shrug of did I do alright? in his navy trousers and loose white shirt, top buttons undone and sleeves rolled to his elbows; a perfectly informal ensemble to hoist a middle finger to the attire the other wedding wanted him to wear.
He looks comfortable here. A little nervous, maybe, a little anxious and kind of like he’s worried you’ll run away any second, but it’s an endearing, comfortable look.
“Perfect,” you whisper again, smile damp with tears, and you grab his left hand. “Perfect, okay, let’s finish this, I can’t wait anymore…”
The ring slips easily onto his ring finger, somehow still warm against his skin, the gold band glinting in the remaining sunlight as he looks at it.
There. He grins, that little gold ring changing everything.
He’s yours.
Loki Laufeyson belongs to someone.
Someone who actually wants him, someone who loves him.
Taking your left hand in his, his eyes flit up to meet your grin as he brings it to his lips; a royal gesture for the only queen he’ll ever know. He guides the wedding ring onto your finger, caressing your hand with a gentleness you remember knowing he didn’t possess when you met.
His slender fingers close around your hand, cool as always and promising to never let you go.
Breathe.
Once he moves his hand, you look at the ring, shining against your skin—oh god…now you belong to someone, too.
And it’s someone who wants you, and—
“No,” Loki whispers, shaking you out of your thoughts, “I love you.”
Damn, you were doing so good with not crying.
Your husband—yeah, let’s say that again, your husband—starts chuckling, that beautiful rolling laughter cutting right over Thor’s recitations and prayers.
Hand in hand under the trees, Loki laughs, you try to stop the tears rolling down your grinning cheeks, and Thor skips over a few lines, his own laughter starting to cut through the recitations.
He’s speeding up the ceremony, clearly, mumbling through probably important prayers and vows, but you figure that’s probably best—if it lasts any longer, you’re going to combust.
Your husband’s lips seem to be in need of a good kissing.
Finally, finally, after what felt like an eternity of not being able to wrap your husband in your arms, Thor closes his giant old ceremonial book with a snap.
You glance at Loki, then to Thor.
The two arguably strongest men you know, and both of them have tears pooling in their beautiful eyes.
“Thank you,” Thor whispers, laying his hand over you and Loki’s entwined hands and giving them both a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you for letting me be a part of this, brother.”
Loki just nods, bottom lip disappearing between his teeth in an attempt to keep the tears from falling.
“Never doubt—” his voice cracks. “—th-that I love you.”
“I won’t.”
You can’t help but grin at them, the two brothers in their rare moments of softness, when all the warrior-guises, murky bloodlines, and pressures over a throne have worn away.
It’s…refreshing.
And to Loki, more than he ever could have hoped for.
“Alright,” Thor laughs, rubbing his damp eyes with two fingers. “Enough of that. You have a wife to tend to, brother, I’ve made you wait long enough.”
Loki’s hand tightens around yours and he catches your eye, an inevitable smile spreading over his face at the sight of you.
“I pronounce you husband and wife,” Thor announces, smiling broadly. “Now get on with it and kiss.”
It takes barely a single second before you’re dipped backwards, Loki’s arm around your waist as the other trails up to cradle your cheek, kissing you with the fervour of a man starved.
Kissing you like it’s the last thing in his life that he’ll ever, ever do, kissing you as if he just got to make you his and his alone.
Like he’s yours.
People have warned you about Loki’s “possessiveness.”
But right here, right now, with your fingers tangled in his hair, gently tugging to keep him from completely frenching you in front of his brother and your couple friends and family, you know you were right; he was never really a possessive lover.
He’s terrified, and you know this. Not possessive, just scared. And if any possession is playing a part in your relationship—no, marriage…
It’ll be the fact that Loki gets to consider himself officially, undeniably, forever yours.
See, Loki never needed a second chance.
You weren’t his redemption story, weren’t the kind one who “gave him a chance.”
You just…love the right parts of him.
It’s a beautiful thing, really.
To see someone grow from a pure, innocent child into a tortured soul who’s been beaten by the universe, convinced they have no place in this life, then to transform into the person of your dreams?
It’s simple.
Just find the bit of love that everyone holds somewhere in them, no matter how deeply buried it might be, and love that part of them until someday, they can love it, too.
He steals your phone daily and puts on yet another Sinatra playlist, telling you how he relates to his “sultry tunes of woeful lovers” before taking your hand and twirling you around the kitchen.
That’s how you find yourself criss-cross in the middle of the living room, tucked against Loki’s chest between his knees, old pictures scattered about the floor around you, shuffling through stacks of pictures as the hazy tune floats through the air.
“Look at this one,” you laugh and hold up another photo for Loki to see. “From our second-first date, remember?”
He takes the photo and brings it closer to look, a smile tugging at his lips. It’s one of the first pictures you took of him, and you still had to sneak when you took it, so he’s completely caught off guard. “You told me you destroyed this, you liar.”
In the picture he’s standing on a pier overlooking the ocean, looking completely out of place in a black suit and hiding behind a melting ice cream cone—the funniest part is his hair, blowing crazily in the salty sea breeze, caught in his face and getting stuck in his ice cream.
“This is a national treasure,” you tease, grabbing the picture back and giving it a loud smack of a kiss. “I had to keep it. Especially since we don’t have any pictures from our first-first date.”
“I thought we didn’t speak of that.”
“Right, right, sorry.” You roll your eyes and tuck the picture back in the stack, going back to looking through the photos. After the past few years together, you’ve accumulated quite the collection of masterpieces, capturing your life together perfectly: awkward, beautiful chaos.
“You look exceptionally beautiful in this one,” Loki snickers a few moments later, showing you a little Polaroid taken when you had made the impulsive decision to climb a giant oak tree and gotten stuck—all because Loki bet that you couldn’t. He had laughed and laughed when you couldn’t get down, fished your camera out of your bag, and taken his first ever Polaroid picture.
“I will never let you forget this,” he had sworn, doubled over with laughter until eventually he gave in and helped you down. The picture is just so flattering: you’re yelling, screaming down at Loki, which isn’t surprising, hanging onto a tree branch for dear life, and Loki’s finger is covering the top right corner of the photo.
Not too bad for the first photo he’s ever taken.
“That is the worst picture I’ve ever seen!” You snatch the picture from him and try to shove it in your pocket to throw away later, but Loki catches your arm and pries it out of your grip.
“If you want to keep your favourites, I get to keep mine.” He grins at you when you scoff and sets it aside, lifting the lid of another shoebox full of pictures. “Oh, darling, look. Our wedding photos.”
That immediately gets you to stop trying to pry open his fingers to steal back the awful tree picture, settling back against his chest as he sets the box in your lap, taking a handful of photos to look through.
Both of you fall silent, each smiling to yourselves as you relive the entire magical day: from Loki seeing you for the first time, to Thor looking more excited than anyone when you turned to him hand in hand to officiate the marriage, to your first kiss, lips pressed together in the furthest thing from a kiss—just two bright smiles, two boughts of joyous laughter grinning against each other.
“That was a good decision,” you say quietly, showing Loki a picture of your first dance, a faint glow around the two of you spinning away in the night with foreheads resting together and laughing into each other’s lips.
Loki laughs, turning his head to press a sweet kiss to your temple. “Keeping your tradition of dancing? I agree.”
“No, doofus. Marrying you.”
“My life is a never-ending trail of horrid decisions,” Loki answers, resting his head against yours as he stares at the picture. “But you’re easily the best one I’ve ever made.”
You lean back and tilt your head up, grabbing his face and pulling him down for a kiss—words can’t quite express the butterflies still in your stomach, the pounding of your heart, the amount of adoration you hold for this god.
“Just love you a whole lot,” you mumble, kissing him once more for good measure.
“I love you a whole lot, too.”
The scratchy, lofty melodies of Frank Sinatra fill the silence that settles comfortably between you when you break apart, leaning against each other and losing yourselves in memories once again. You’re more content than you have been in a long time, nestled between Loki’s legs with his chin on your shoulder, watching as you leaf through a stack of pictures from your honeymoon—
“nIPPLES.”
“What the fuck, Loki?”
He snickers like the immature little kid he is and points at the picture currently in your hand. “Nipples. See?”
You frown and look closer; in the photo you’re at a beach, knee deep in the water and Loki had just pushed you, all while holding the camera ready to capture your fall on film. He’d become obsessed with taking pictures once you got him a camera for one anniversary, always trying to capture the best moments of his life—in other words, your worst, most embarrassing moments.
He’d pushed you, you remember, you’d been holding his hand and wading into the freezing water, complaining about how cold it was. Loki had agreed and squeezed your hand comfortingly, and you didn’t notice the glint in his eye or him getting his camera ready.
“I love you,” he had promised, and just as you turned to say it back, he had grinned and shoved you down into the freezing water, snapping a perfect shot of your horrified face as the seawater swallowed you up.
Looking at the picture now, apparently your swimsuit had slipped a little bit on the way down.
And of course, Loki would be the one to notice.
“Okay…this one can’t go in any photo albums or photo walls,” you laugh, jabbing him in the stomach with a well-placed elbow when he chuckles and reaches up to give your chest a playful squeeze.
“You’re absolutely right,” he agrees, poking you right back and plucking the picture from your hand, slipping it in his back pocket with a smug grin. “This one stays with me.”
Hi ! May I request Loki bringing reader and Elliot for the first time in Asgard ? I really love your writing !
ahh thank you!! this is such a good request omL
okay idk what time period this is, for my purposes Odin Badparent is still on the throne but lovely Frigga has died, but Loki was with you instead of in prison. idk pls be nice.
You still remember the first time you saw Asgard: the bifrost had dropped the two of you off at the end of the rainbow bridge and you had promptly grabbed Loki’s hand and used it to punch yourself in the face.
Needless to say, you weren’t dreaming, and the mighty Heimdall’s first impression of you would forever be tainted by Loki shrieking “WHY IN THE NAME OF ODIN DID YOU DO THAT?!”
…followed by you screaming “I FORGOT YOU’RE, LIKE, MYTHOLOGICAL OR SOME SHIT!!” right back at him.
Then you had taken off down the bridge dragging your boyfriend sputtering behind you.
You had ended up staying in Asgard for probably over two months (you kind of lost track of time) and every single day was an adventure. By the time you decided you should really go back home and get your earthly life sorted out, you’d made sure to sneak secret kisses in every tiny closet the palace provided, and every single night had been spent on the highest palace balcony, staring at the stars until you fell asleep in each other’s arms.
It’s easily the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen. Golden buildings rising in the middle of bustling streets, mountains and waterfalls and rivers and more natural beauty than you’d ever beheld, and then there’s the food. The food alone is enough to make you seriously consider leaving the entire planet earth and just becoming a full time Asgardian.
You’d taken every opportunity to go back any time you were able to escape your life on Earth, and when you had finally decided to get married, the two of you spent another extended period of time in the realm during your first few months as a newly wed couple. It has certainly become your home away from home, and even Loki has started to enjoy being there more. The smug bastard says it has something to do with a change in the political dealings of the realm, but you know it’s just because you love it so much.
Not that he’d ever tell you such a sappy, hopelessly romantic thing like that.
He suggests you go visit as often as he can, just so he can see the shock on your face when the bifrost surrounds you, so he can hear the excited squeal when you see the golden castles in the distance, and of course so that he can laugh at you when you fail to address his family and the rest of the royal court properly (you do believe you’re the one being who has ever called Odin Allfather “dude” and lived to see another day).
But after his mother’s death, the realm eternal lost every ounce of its appeal. Wonderful memories became painful, tensions rose, and any joy that had come from Asgard was forgotten. It had taken ages just to get your lover to smile again, and you knew better than to suggest returning to the realm.
It was Elliot’s birth that finally brought a sliver of light back to his life. Yes, he tried to stay positive for your sake and still tried his best to keep your spirits lifted, but you could tell that something was missing from his life, a little light had gone out and needed rekindling.
Nothing does the job quite like a baby.
Once Elliot was born, travelling across space and time into another universe became the furthest thing from your mind, so it took you by complete surprise when Loki suggested you all spend the weekend showing the three month old baby around Asgard. Of course you agreed right away, hoping this could be a chance for him to reconcile old disagreements and even possibly gain closure on a treasured but lost relationship.
Now you find yourself at the foot of the rainbow bridge for the first time in a very long time, this time with a baby tucked in one arm and Loki’s hand locked with yours. Almost as an instinct, Loki looks at you when you step into the glaring Asgard sun, waiting for your face to light up when you see the city as it always has.
Your excitement doesn’t disappoint.
It’s wonderful to be back, but this visit is bittersweet; you’re excited to explore again this time with your son, but something about Loki still seems off.
The three of you spend the day traipsing through the lower levels of the city, mingling with the commoners and enjoying the street food and everyday life of what you guess are normal Asgardians.
It’s pretty obvious that Loki is avoiding the palace.
But he reluctantly agrees to return to the palace for dinner, knowing he owes his father the chance to meet his grandson. Hopefully Thor will be there to help keep things civil at the reunion.
Once again, baby to the rescue.
At first it was extremely tense around the table, but the Allfather seemed to have a soft spot for your little boy. He kept trying to hand him drumsticks of some kind of dark meat, which you politely tried to decline and secretly pushed onto Loki’s plate. Come on, the baby isn’t even one year yet. At one point you even caught Loki smiling when Odin asked to hold Elliot; your heart twisted when Loki caught your eye with an excited gleam in his own at the thought of his adoptive father favouring his son, something of his creation.
He’ll always be searching for some kind of validation from the man who lied to him, whether he realises that or not.
You kind of lost your husband and your son after dinner.
You had taken a quick run back to your room to go get your phone (Loki and Elliot were being too cute at dinner and you had to get a picture) but when you came back, they were gone.
After asking around for a bit, a chambermaid tells you she saw Loki step outside a few minutes ago, and she points you to a winding path leading away from the palace, away from the city into a dark expanse of land.
Figures, doesn’t it? What a great, totally not-threatening place for Loki to take his three month old son.
But despite your fears, the path leads you to a little garden, beautifully well-kept and so brightly coloured that the flowers seem to glow right through the darkness of the night. Out of the corner of your eye you spot Loki, walking slowly between the trees with Elliot in his arms.
For some reason you don’t call out to him just yet, and you follow him until he comes to a stop in front of an exquisitely painted mural on a stone wall. The mural is breathtaking, it looks like it’s been painted with actual gold—wait, these are gods. It probably is.
The scene painted is of a woman, you can’t tell who from the distance you’re watching, but you can tell she is beautiful, elegant, and in every way regal, judging by the golden crown that adorns her head. She’s standing in a forest, it seems, a forest or garden of sorts that looks strangely similar to the one you’re in. Loki is staring at it, and he reaches out a hand to brush his finger over the chipping paint.
Something about this is weirdly familiar.
You silently watch as he sinks to his knees on the damp grass before the mural, Elliot cradled in one arm as the other hand brushes across the ground—a strange type of darkly petaled wildflower sprouts from the soil where his hand touched, an oddly shadowed addition to the beautiful garden you find yourself in.
You’re about to call out to him when you hear him speaking in a barely audible, noticeably pained voice.
“Hello, mother.”
Your breath catches in your throat.
“Have I…have I made you proud?”
Should you go to him? Leave him be? You don’t want to interrupt. You hear him continue speaking before you can decide what to do.
“Look, mother. After all I’ve done, every—every mistake I’ve made, I’ve still somehow been given a son.” He slightly lifts the bundle of blankets in his arms, pulling the blanket away from the baby’s face. “We’ve named him Elliot…and he is the most beautiful child ever created.”
He’s just talking quietly into the air. You’re not sure if he’s speaking to the mural or just to himself; it seems as if his words are swallowed by the wind and cast around every living thing in the lush garden. You might just be sleep deprived and going crazy, but it’s almost as if the flowers and trees are bending towards the god and his son—listening.
Elliot is waking up, slowly starting to gargle cries as he squirms in his father’s arms, and Loki quickly shifts to hug the baby to his chest, shushing him and running a soothing hand over his back.
The simple movement nearly breaks your heart. You step out from behind the tree and quietly walk over to your family, placing a gentle hand on Loki’s back as you take a seat on the grass next to him.
He looks at you in surprise when he feels you, his cheeks faintly flushed at the state you’ve found him in. He never meant for you to see him like this, so exposed, vulnerable…weak.
You put a hand on the side of his face and reach up to kiss him softly, pouring every ounce of reassurance and strength into your lips. His cheeks are slightly wet against yours and when you pull away with a comforting smile, it’s a new, fresh tear that races down his face.
“Your majesty,” you suddenly call out, an idea forming in the back of your mind. You turn to the mural and lean against Loki’s side, squeezing his hand tightly in your own. “Your son is the most incredible father.”
…it feels kind of stupid when you say it. You’re not sure if this is how it works, if just anyone can speak with deceased goddesses by talking to a painting of them, but you push your doubts aside and keep speaking. If anything, Loki is the one who needs to hear this.
“You know, he’s changed my life,” you continue, laying your head on his shoulder and reaching over to rub a hand on Elliot’s back. “The life he’s given me, our son, whatever the future holds for our weird little family…I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like him, but, um, I think I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to repay him.”
“You don’t need to lie in attempt to comfort me.” His voice is so quiet you can barely hear him. “I don’t need your false reassurance.”
If it weren’t for the sensitivity of the current situation, you would have smacked him across the face and kissed some sense into him, but that doesn’t exactly seem appropriate for right now. So you resolve to rolling your eyes and moving your hand to cover his mouth. “Shh. Just listen to me, please.”
Pulling yourself to your feet, you take Elliot out of Loki’s arms and step closer to the mural, lightly bouncing the little baby when he gives another cry and stretches out a tiny, tired arm to the painting on the wall. “You know, Loki has changed, your majesty.” You wince; this probably isn’t how you should speak to a goddess-queen. “He’s changed a lot the past few years. He’s…opened his heart. To me, to our son, even to his brother and father at times. You raised a-a god with a beautiful mind, and yeah, his heart is a little stormy most of the time, but, well…” you catch Loki’s eye and smile. “Most of the time he lets me dance in the rain.”
Loki’s behind you now, his arms around your waist and swaying the three of you gently side to side. You’re cradling Elliot to keep him warm from the chilly night breeze picking up, and Loki’s lips are pressed to your temple, not moving, just wanting to feel you.
“Thank you, my love,” he whispers, and you don’t expect him to say any more.
However, he holds out a hand, and that same dark, unnaturally ominous flower from earlier appears in his palm. There’s a handful of threatening thorns lining the stem, but Loki runs a finger down the stem and the thorns promptly fall to the ground. Thank goodness, too, because then he tucks the flower behind your ear, brushing his hand along your cheek with a small smile as he withdraws his hand.
An unusually sweet gesture from your lover, an action strangely…midgardian.
“‘He lets me dance in the rain’?” He repeats, tilting your head up to look at him. An amused smile is hinting at his lips—meaning you’ve done your job. “My dear…that was awful. So tasteless. Honestly,” he chuckles at the feigned hurt on your face. “I thought I was training you better.”
“Hey, geez, sorry for caring!” You laugh and slap him in the chest, shifting Elliot to your other side. “Sorry I’m not some ‘scholarly poet’ like you, oh exalted one…my mediocre mortal vocabulary will have to suffice.”
Laughing, he takes Elliot out of your arms and wraps the blankets tighter around the little boy, then slips an arm behind your neck to pull you closer to him. “I suppose I appreciate the sentiment.” Thankfully chipper and smiling again, he leans down to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Sentiment. Such a fickle thing.”
You slip your arms around his waist and hug him tighter than you probably should, but hey, he’s a god. He can handle it. “Yes, sentiment, idiot…good thing a mighty god such as yourself would never stoop so low as to actually share his sentiments with another being.”
He sighs and nods in agreement, trying to pry your arms from his waist while holding his son in one arm. “Your sentiments tend to be overtly physical, dear.”
“Shh. You need it, and I know you love it.”
Loki pauses and you take the opportunity to grab his face and kiss him, not letting go of your hold around his waist. Then Elliot lets out a squeal and frees a tiny arm from his cocoon of blankets, grabbing Loki’s shirt and pulling himself tighter against his father’s chest—you almost laugh.
The baby is trying to hug Loki too.
There’s absolutely no way Loki can’t smile at that, and he hoists the baby further up on his chest to press his lips to Elliot’s forehead. “You’ve broken me. Ruined me, softened me, demolished my reputation…”
He gives a dramatic sigh and finally wraps his empty arm around you.
Summary: (Loki x reader) Loki is the greatest husband...and an even better father. A little mischief-maker to join in on his fun? Sign him up. Christmas Eve arrives, bringing with it a stressed out you, so of course, Loki helps you calm down. That naturally calls for spiked eggnog, a nice little makeout session, and one (1) slightly cringe-worthy situation.
Warnings: Fluff, fluff, and more fluff. With a little fluff, some making out, fluff, have some INNUENDOS, wash it down with fluff. And fluff for dessert.
A/N: Day 11 of the 12 days of Christmas!!! Thank you so much for all the support and love through this, it’s been so much fun just cranking out more content for you all. If you’ve read anything I’ve written, reblogged, or left a comment or ask or anything, thank you thank you from the bottom of my cold dead heart!!!!!!!
This fic is my absolute favourite. More than Broken Beds tbh. I’m a slut for dad!loki so I had to dedicate an entire fic to just family fluff and husband!loki and just wow now I’m tearing up. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it for you!!
Please please please drop me a comment or ask! Your feedback is the lifeblood that fuels my dreams and inspiration!!!!
look at that little smile i cRY
A burst of laughter rang out from the living room as you hung your damp coat on the rack by the door. The snow outside brought an icy gust of wind in the door that quickly dissipated from the warmth of your Christmas-ready home: a four-pointed star twinkled magically atop of a luscious pine tree (your husband had brought the star from Asgard, finding a way to incorporate his home into this new and foreign tradition he was creating with you), the smell of pine and fresh powdery snow and peppermint wafted around the house, and a catchy Christmas carol played softly from the living room.
“I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe last night…”
The holiday melody floated through the air and brought a smile to your face. You followed the laughter and music into the room, where you found the cutest scene in the whole world laid out in front of you.
Loki had his legs stretched out on the couch, his back propped up against the arm. Your four year old son, Elliot, was sitting on your husband’s stomach, laughing hysterically. You stopped and leaned against the doorway, a content smile growing on your face at your happy little family.
Much to your surprise, Loki seemed to be singing along to the Christmas carol. His voice was quiet and playful, only singing to keep the adorable laughter on his son’s face.
“Then I saw mommy tickle Santa Claus…” Loki gently tickled the side of Elliot’s neck, bringing out another fit of giggles. “Underneath his beard so snowy white…”
Elliot’s childish laughter filled the room and was soon joined by Loki’s deep, rolling chuckles as he continued tickling his son. Your heart swelled at the sound: the two people you love most in the world, the two who made up your entire universe, happy smiles wide on their faces and shaking with laughter.
Loki tapped his fingers lightly to the beat on Elliot’s head, bringing another giggle from the little boy. “Oh what a laugh it would have been, if daddy had only seen,” he sang, pointing at himself and grinning at his son. “Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night!”
“EWWW!! No kisses, no kisses!” Elliot shouted, covering Loki’s mouth with both his tiny hands. “Kisses are gross.”
“Is that so?” Loki pried the chubby hands off his mouth. “So you wouldn’t like it if I… did this?!” He grabbed the little boy in his arms and started forcing dramatically loud kisses all over his face while Elliot laughed and screeched and tried to squirm out of his father’s arms.
The chaotic embrace brought a laugh to your lips as well, the sound alerting them of your being home.
“MOMMY!!” Elliot yelled, finally escaping Loki’s attacks and running to you with his arms wide open. You bent down and picked him up to hug him tightly, swinging him around with a laugh.
“How’s my little troublemaker, hm?” You kissed his pudgy cheek with a loud mwah, making him scrunch up his face.
“Ew, no! Stop mommy, stop!” He quickly rubbed your kiss away.
Loki swung his legs off the couch and strode over to the two of you with the biggest smile you’d seen on him in a long time. “Don’t forget about your other troublemaker, darling.”
He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against him, making you squeak in surprise. He lifted a hand to cover Elliot’s eyes, making the little boy laugh again, then locked his lips on yours in a passionate kiss.
Your eyes fluttered shut and if you weren’t holding your son in your arms, you would have completely lost yourself in that kiss. Loki kept his hand up covering Elliot’s eyes, kissing you with everything he had and making your heart skip a beat.
“Mommy? Are you kissing daddy?” Elliot’s voice interrupted the moment, and you broke the kiss breathlessly.
“She most certainly was. Sorry, little one.” Loki chuckled and ruffled his son’s hair, keeping an arm around your waist. Elliot turned up his nose again and covered Loki’s mouth with one hand and yours with the other. “Gross. No more kissing!”
You promptly kissed the palm of his hand that was covering your mouth, causing him to let out a shriek of laughter and wipe it on his shirt. “Why no more kissing, Elliot?”
The little boy shook his head wildly, still with a hand clapped over Loki’s mouth. “Kisses are gross. And bad! Daddy’s gonna hurt your mouth.”
Loki raised his eyebrows and made a muffled attempt to speak, but Elliot giggled and pressed both hands over his mouth.
“But it’s ok for daddy to kiss me,” you explained with a laugh. “Can you let him go, sweetie? I think he wants to say something.”
Your son reluctantly removed his hands from Loki’s face, but as soon as he did, you threw an arm around Loki’s neck to pull him into another kiss. Elliot shrieked and started hitting his little fists on Loki’s chest, yelling at him to stop.
Loki pulled away laughing as Elliot scowled adorably at him, pointing an accusing finger at you. “That wasn’t me! She kissed me that time!”
“Gross.”
“It is not gross.”
“Yeah it is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yeah it is!!”
They bickered back and forth until you shut Loki up with another quick kiss while Elliot protested and tried to pull your faces apart. “Come on, kiddo,” you laughed and carried him to the kitchen. “We’ll stop. Let’s get some dinner.”
Shortly after, the three of you sat around the small table eating. It was leftovers night, nothing special, but you and Loki couldn’t have been happier as you sat together laughing with your son.
The little boy absolutely loved to talk, always asking questions and telling you stories about the new things he discovered every day. Taking after his father, he was already trying to learn to read. One of his favourite things to do was to pick a random book off one of the many full shelves, then bring it to Loki and climb onto his lap, waiting expectantly for him to start reading aloud. And Loki could never resist; he would read any book the boy brought him, his silky voice creating a beautiful, eloquent melody until Elliot would curl up on his chest, fast asleep. Loki would refuse any help you offered, not wanting to move a muscle for fear of waking the precious child sleeping peacefully over his heart.
Tonight was no different from the rest, Elliot’s imaginative stories spoken through mouthfuls of half-chewed food. Tonight, he couldn’t stop talking about Christmas and Santa Claus and just how excited he was for tomorrow.
“Mommy,” Elliot began, poking a finger at the pile of mashed potatoes on his plate. “Is Santa really gonna come in our house? I don’t want reindeers in my room!”
You opened your mouth to respond but Loki beat you to it. He had loved the idea of Santa Claus when you explained it to him and wanted to play right along with the story your son believed. “The reindeer don’t come inside! Only Santa does, to give you presents. But… that’s only if you’ve been good.” He raised his eyebrows at Elliot, making him giggle and nod his head.
You reached over and scooped up a bite of potatoes, holding it to Elliot’s mouth. “And good kids eat their dinner. If they don’t, they get coal!”
His eyes widened and he quickly scarfed down the rest of his potatoes. “I been good,” he said thickly through a mouthful of food. “I been really good. And I eated all my dinner.”
Loki lightly ruffled his hair with a grin. “That’s my boy. If you can go to bed without any tricks tonight, I bet Santa will reward you.”
Elliot nodded seriously, then tapped your hand. “Have you been good, mommy? Are you gonna get presents?”
Hearing the kid’s question, Loki choked on his water and quickly answered for you. “No. No, mommy has been very bad, very bad indeed. Quite a… naughty girl.”
You rolled your eyes at him while Elliot gasped in shock. “No, mommy can’t get coal for Christmas!”
“Don’t worry, little one. She’ll get other presents.” Loki shot you a sly smirk.
“Loki! That’s enough,” you laughed, heart fluttering at the suggestive look on his face. Satisfied with his father’s answers but unaware of the adult shift in the conversation, Elliot started off onto a new rant about what presents he hoped to get the next morning. Loki started taking the dirty plates to the sink to wash, leaving you to get the little chatterbox ready for bed.
Picking Elliot up to take him to his room, you walked behind Loki at the sink and couldn’t resist giving him a playful smack on the ass, throwing him a wink as he yelped in surprise.
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” he growled as you laughed and hurried out of his reach. “The things I might do will guarantee you’ll be on the naughty list for the rest of your life.”
“Why are you encouraging this?!” You groaned as Loki ran around the room chasing after Elliot. Your kid had wiggled out of your grasp while you were putting his pajama shirt on and now was running around with the shirt bunched around his neck like a scarf. His hyper giggles and screeching had made Loki come to see what was the matter and as soon as he appeared in the doorway, Elliot had hit him on the leg and sprinted away screaming “Daddy’s it! Daddy’s it!”
Now you sat on the edge of Elliot’s bed rubbing your aching temples while your husband chased after Elliot, jumping over the bed and yelling and laughing just as loud.
“Who gave this man a child?” You muttered to yourself as Loki crashed into a wall with a shout, knocking a handful of toys off a shelf near his head. He caught a hysterical Elliot around the waist, picking him up and throwing him on the bed. “You did, my love,” he laughed and started tickling Elliot’s little round tummy, drawing shrieks of laughter from his son.
A happy smile tugged at your lips as you watched them wrestle around the bed. No matter how exhausted you were, moments like this couldn’t be missed.
Loki glanced over at your tired eyes and gave you a knowing wink. He bounced Elliot on the bed one last time before pulling the blankets up to his chin, tucking the squirming boy under the covers. “Shhhh, shh.” He brought a finger to his lips and Elliot immediately mimicked the motion, thankfully following his father’s instruction and calming down, still giggling softly. You moved to sit beside Loki as he slowly pointed upwards, drawing Elliot’s gaze to the ceiling above his bed. With a small twitch of his fingers, a light dusting of snow began to float down from the ceiling, disappearing into thin air before it hit the mattress.
Elliot’s eyes widened as he watched the snow fall magically around him, and you smiled at his amazement, leaning your head on Loki’s shoulder. A peaceful moment passed, until Elliot suddenly jumped out of bed and threw his arms around the two of you. You hugged him back tightly, catching Loki’s eye and positively melting at the adoration shining on his face before tucking your son back into bed and bending down to kiss him goodnight.
“Ew,” Elliot giggled sleepily, finally out of energy. “Daddy, don’t let mommy kiss Santa too.”
With a groan, you flopped down face first on the couch. “Go spike some eggnog please.” You waved a hand haphazardly to get Loki’s attention.
“Rough day?” He moved your legs over a bit so he could sit next to your stretched out form. You nodded with your head in your arms, and immediately Loki’s skilled fingers found the knots in your neck and shoulders, gently kneading the stress away. “If you wish to talk about it, I’m listening.”
“Nah…” you sighed contentedly, letting your eyes drift shut. “I’m exhausted and work was stressful, more than usual. But it’s Christmas Eve and I’ve got you, so I’d really just like to forget about it…”
You felt Loki’s cool breath brush over your ear as he bent over you, whispering lowly, “Elliot is asleep, you don’t have work tomorrow, we have the whole night to ourselves… I think I can make you forget about it.”
“Hmm… I don’t know. I’m still waiting for that drink I mentioned,” you hummed back, not opening your eyes.
“So needy…” he sighed and swatted you lightly on the back before standing, couch creaking as he moved.
A moment later you heard him rummaging around in the kitchen, humming quietly. He came back out with two mugs in hand, setting them on the coffee table with exaggerated and completely unnecessary force. “A drink for her majesty,” he said, dipping into a mocking bow.
You kicked a leg out trying to hit him, but he jumped out of the way with a laugh. “Oh, shut up. You’re the royalty here, king,” you reminded him.
He shoved your legs off the couch and dropped down next to you, tightly wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your temple. “But where would a king be without his queen?”
“Probably dead. Or still on Asgard. Without the cutest kid in the universe as your son.”
Loki chuckled, handing you a mug. “Fair enough. Now drink up, you’ll feel better, trust me.”
You took a sip and eyed him suspiciously over the brim of the mug. It was eggnog, definitely eggnog, but mixed with something much stronger. “Yikes,” you cringed, taking another slightly bigger gulp. “This isn’t going to take long.”
“I added something special,” he winked, sipping his own drink. “It’s similar to that Midgardian rum you like, but made for beings much more powerful. Like myself.”
You rolled your eyes. “Right, just like you… well, if this can actually get you drunk too, I already love it.”
Yikes was right. This was some seriously strong stuff, and it didn’t take long until you had finished your drink, your mind pleasantly a little fuzzier than before. It was starting to get to Loki too, you realised, as his words began to drag and things became a whole lot funnier to him than usual.
You were curled up in a blanket with your head on his shoulder, fighting to keep your eyes open, when he set down his empty cup. He reached over to the coffee table, making the loose shirt he wore ride up to expose a sliver of his stomach.
Thanks to your tipsy brain, you decided you just had to touch him, so you quickly poked him in the side with a proud smirk. He yelped at the contact and jolted away from you, making you burst into a loud fit of giggles.
“SHHH!” he hissed at you, suddenly lunging back over you and clapping a hand over your mouth. “You’ll wake the baby!!”
You stuck your tongue out, licking the palm of his hand as it was covering your mouth. He gasped and yanked his hand away as you laughed, whispering loudly, “Elliot’s not a baby anymore, doofus.”
Loki’s tipsy smile dropped. You reached up to cradle his face in your hands, noticing his sudden mood change. “Hey, what’s wrong? Don’t go getting all sad on me, it’s Christmas Eve.”
“Am I… am I a good father?”
“Oh, Loki.” You latched an arm around his neck and pulled him into your arms, hugging him tightly. “My love, you are a wonderful father. Elliot absolutely adores you.” He tucked his head under your chin, nuzzling his face into your neck as you gently stroked your fingers through his hair. “And I absolutely adore you. Have I mentioned that?”
You could feel him shift against your skin, thankfully smiling once again. He mumbled a few incoherent words, not moving from his spot in the crook of your neck.
“Come again?”
Loki lifted his head with a grin. “I said ‘prove it.’”
“Uh-uh, not until you put me on the naughty list,” you purred, inching closer to his face. “You said you would, so I’m gonna hold you to that.” You pushed him back into the cushions and crawled over him, straddling his waist with your hands on either side of his head.
He looked up at you with a devious glint in his eye. “You won’t be disappointed.”
You bent down to meet his lips, settling on top of his hips. Mmm… He tasted like cinnamon and peppermint and the rich, creamy taste of eggnog, topped with the hints of alcohol still gracing his delicious lips.
“You taste like Christmas…and rum,” you said breathlessly, then pulled him into another kiss, tongue delving back into his mouth before he could respond. Loki pushed himself up to a sitting position, lips never leaving yours, grabbing your waist to tug you closer on his lap.
“My turn,” he panted between kisses, roughly pushing your shoulders and leaning over you so that now it was your back against the couch. You eagerly accepted the change of position, allowing him to crawl over you and start ravaging your neck. Resting between your knees, he worked his way expertly over your body, one hand pushing your shirt up as he nipped at the sensitive skin in the curve of your neck. Drawing your skin between his teeth, he bit down just a little harder than usual, the addicting hint of perfect pain bringing something of a whimper and a cry out from your throat, which he quickly muffled by covering your mouth with his once again.
“You have to stay quiet,” he chuckled against your mouth. “Don’t make me shut you up myself-”
“Mommy? Are you ok?”
The two of you froze.
This was NOT a good position to be caught in. Loki’s hand was lost up your shirt, lips attacking yours, laying on top of you between your legs, while you had a leg hooked around his waist and hands clutching his back to keep him there. Already wincing, you slowly turned your head towards the little voice. Though your vision was a bit fuzzy from the alcohol, there was no mistaking your son standing in the doorway.
Loki seemed to be hoping that if he didn’t move, Elliot wouldn’t be able to see him. You sighed and made to push him off of you to go put Elliot back to bed, but Loki shook his head and held you still under him, a slightly worrisome grin growing on his face. “I have an idea,” he whispered.
Ok, very worrisome.
There was a flash of green light and suddenly you found yourself lying under… Santa Claus?!
Shocked, you stared up at Loki in a drunken stupor, his face shifted into a completely different one; round, old, and rosy-cheeked, no longer the youthful, chiseled face you so loved. And he had a beard!! Snowy white and huge, tickling you as it scratched against your cheek.
“I-I don’t like this at all,” you stuttered under your breath, “I want Loki back.”
An awkward moment of silence passed. Then…
“AAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!”
Elliot screamed at the top of his lungs and bolted back down the hallway into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.
There was another green glow around the room and Loki, your Loki, with that beautiful jawline and chiseled cheekbones not obstructed by a huge white beard, was back staring down at you with wide eyes. You blinked once, twice… then burst out laughing.
Soon Loki joined you, laughing hysterically and hugging you close, trying to stifle his laughter in the crook of your neck. “From now on,” you snorted, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes, “we only drink when Elliot isn’t here. We’re not taking any more chances.”
“And—ehehe—and we only do this,” Loki added with a snicker, gesturing between the two of you, “we only do this in the bedroom. With the door locked.”
That just made you laugh even harder, shoving your face into his neck to muffle your drunken laughter until Loki flicked a hand and you fell backwards onto your soft mattress, the pair of you magically back in your room.
“I love your magic. So convenient,” you giggled, out of breath from all that had just happened. You sat up on the edge of the bed and tugged on the waistband of his pants, pulling him between your knees and into a kiss. “But help me out here. I’m a ‘lil bit tipsy and you’ve kept me waiting long enough.”
Prying open your groggy eyes, a tiny flurry of dark hair and “The Mighty Thor” pajamas zipped past you.
“UP, UP!!! Meeeerry Christmas!”
Elliot was jumping on your bed, shouting and hitting you with a pillow. Loki rolled over groaning loudly and wrapped his arm around your waist, burying his face against your back. Which, you realised with a start, was still unclothed.
You grabbed the blanket and quickly pulled it over your heads, hissing at your husband, “how’d he get in here? I thought you locked the door! We’re not wearing anything!”
“My kid, my abilities…” He mumbled, pressing a drowsy kiss to the back of your neck.
“SANTA GAVE ME PRESENTS! GET UP!!!” Elliot shouted, throwing himself down heavily, knocking the air out of your lungs.
“Oof… well then, your kid, your responsibility.” You playfully smacked Loki’s hand that was wandering lower and lower on your bare stomach. He chuckled and kissed your neck again, then peeked out from under the blankets, making sure your bodies were still covered.
“Good morning, Elliot. Could you possibly be any louder?” he teased, poking him gently in the side.
Elliot giggled and nodded earnestly, taking a deep breath, preparing to yell.
“No no no!! You don’t have to show me!” Loki quickly backtracked. “Can you give mommy and I a moment? Go count your presents again, you may have missed one.”
The little boy squealed excitedly at that and dashed out the door back to the Christmas tree. Loki waved a hand at the door, slamming it shut, and you both breathed a sigh of relief.
You rolled over to face your husband, meeting his tired but twinkling eyes and placing a chaste kiss on his bare chest. “Merry Christmas, Loki.”
“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” He responded, lifting your face up to kiss you. He lingered against your lips for a moment, melting into you and moving his hand to your waist to guide you until you were on top of him, running his hands lazily over your back.
Trailing kisses down his neck, you snuggled up on Loki's chest, absentmindedly stroking a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to get up,” you murmured. “I could stay like this forever.”
Sunlight was streaming through your window, glinting off the snow outside and casting a warm golden glow over your entangled bodies in the bed. It was a complete and utter dream, cuddled up on your drowsy husband on Christmas day.
A loud crash followed by an immediate “I’m okay!” came from the living room and brought you back to reality. Loki just chuckled, not even opening his eyes all the way at the ruckus. “Thank you for giving me such a wonderful son.”
You giggled. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Believe me, it was my absolute pleasure to help out.” He pressed a kiss on your forehead, hugging you closer to him. “Well, as much as we wish for it, we can’t keep him waiting forever. We should check what that was.”
“You’re right, you’re right…” you groaned, “let me just hop in the shower real quick before we go out.”
Sighing, you climbed off him and stretched, then strode across the room to the bathroom, turning back around when you reached the doorway. Loki was already looking, watching you walk away with entranced eyes and a lazy smile resting on his face.
You rolled your eyes and waved him over. “When you’re done staring, get in here and help me.”
After a quick and rather enjoyable shower, you found yourself sitting on the couch with your head on Loki’s shoulder, watching Elliot excitedly rip open his presents. He had just gotten to a large box that had a tag saying “from Santa” on it when he paused, a worried look crossing his chubby face.
“Daddy, I have a secret to tell you first. C’mere.” He set aside the gift and climbed onto Loki’s lap, motioning for him to come down to his level.
“Oh-okay,” Loki looked at you confused, but you just shrugged.
Elliot tugged Loki’s head towards him and began whispering in his ear as best he could, which, coming from a four year old, meant you could still make out every word he said.
“Last night, I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus. Just like that song! And I thought… I thought she could only kiss you.”
You and Loki locked eyes, silently telling each other to respond first while you tried to stifle your laughter.
“Uh… did you now?” Loki answered, biting back his laughter. “Well, thank you for telling me. What do you propose we should we do with her then?” He picked up his son, the two of them turning to look at you. Loki had a growing smirk on his face as he thought back to the wildly odd night you had had, until Elliot clapped his hands together excitedly.
“I know! I think, I think she should say I’m sorry. Then she should get in trouble so she doesn’t do it again, like I get time outs! Disk-uh-pline, right?”
Your jaw dropped at his words, knowing exactly how Loki would take your son’s perfectly innocent suggestion, and sure enough, Loki’s smirk only grew even bigger. “You’re absolutely right,” he grinned. “That’s a wonderful idea, Elliot.”
Loki grabbed your chin between two fingers and pulled you into a kiss, ignoring Elliot’s disgusted protests and efforts to pull you apart.
“You’re in deep, deep trouble now, Y/N,” Loki grinned, his voice practically a purr as he set Elliot back on the ground. The little boy eagerly went back to unwrapping presents, ignoring the two of you completely and giving Loki the chance to reclaim his seat beside you. His arm snaked around your waist and you eyed him suspiciously, a grin playing at your lips.
“Pay attention. Your son is opening his presents,” you scolded, playfully patting his cheek. Loki just chuckled darkly and nipped at your fingers as you pulled your hand away.
He bent his head down to rest against your ear, trailing his lips lightly over it down to the fresh mark that he had put on the curve of your neck last night. “Kissing Santa Claus,” he hummed in a whisper so Elliot couldn’t hear, icy breath sending a shiver crawling across your skin. “You should know better…whatever shall I do with you?”
