#elliot lokason

[gingerwritess]

Heeey not that you have to do this but let me throw a wrench in the happiness and ask how would Loki act if there were complications during the birth? (If you hadn't already done this?)

i’m so mad at how long this took. Frigg’s birth. FINALLY. she’s been floating in existence for ages, now she can actually be BORN and i’m actually HAPPY WITH THIS

warnings: birth. death. life again. blood. crying. pain. general angst. a happy ending. complications and (spoiler) kind of child death, but only for a little bit. everything ends happily with everyone alive.

disclaimer: i am not a doctor. i have never given birth before nor delivered a baby. forgive me if this isn’t perfectly accurate. okay enjoy

Elliot is five now and Loki still can’t believe it; he’s raising a child. With someone. And honestly, doesn’t seem to have screwed anything up too badly so far.

I mean, he must be doing something right—he’s only about a month away from getting another one.

It was a…different pregnancy.

See, Elliot was right on time. His birth went as expected, he arrived the day before your due date, you went to the hospital, everything went smoothly (for the most part. Loki still won’t forgive himself for his own behavior, but you’ve been slowly working to mend that tear).

By the end of the night, you and Loki had a beautiful, tiny, healthy (blue) baby boy.

Your daughter—Sleipnir, you’ve jokingly decided to call her until you can settle on an actual name—still has about three weeks to go.

Everything has been heightened, with this one. The pains and aches are ten times worse, the cravings and morning sickness and drowsiness have reached catastrophic levels, and you’re huge.

You feel huge, ready to pop, which is only worse than the reality of the fact: this baby must be planning on being bigger than your first, plain and simple.

The days are dragging and so are you, slugging along towards the finish line when this baby finally decides she’s had enough. You move slower than the speed needed to feel useful in any way, shape, or form, and Loki does his best to slow to your speed, too—the two of you struggle out of the house every once in a while, a dashing prince and an upright snail with its shell on backwards.

“Any day now,” Loki always smiles. He says that from morning till night, he has been for the past two weeks. “Any day now.”

Then he kisses you and tucks you into his arms, a firm hold on your enormous belly until you get too hot and sweaty and annoyed being so close to him and wiggle away to kick the blankets off.

The nightmares started with four weeks until the due date.

After the first one you thought you were in labour, waking up in a cold sweat with a sharp pain in your stomach—you screeched and smacked Loki awake and Elliot came running—but a few moments of gaining consciousness reminded you that you had simply been stabbed, in your dream.

False alarm.

That’s okay, Loki had said, rubbing your back and kissing your temple, sound every alarm. Any day now.

Can’t wait to hug blueberry, Elliot had helpfully added.

A couple nights later you dreamt you managed to actually birth this child, but when the doctor handed her to you, she was nothing more than an unrecognisable lump of cerulean flesh. No eyes, no mouth, just something alive and pulsing with little pudgy arms that reached right for your face.

Loki had to wake you up from that one.

You’re screaming, he whispered. You’ll wake Elliot, is everything alright?

You burst into tears and made Loki put you back to sleep with a spell.

More and more nights passed and sleep became more and more scarce; every time you closed your eyes, some new horror would take place: you popped your belly with a needle and it flew around the room with the squeal of a deflating balloon, the baby was born beautiful but Loki couldn’t see her, Elliot yelled “blueberry!” and ate the baby, the baby was born made of solid ice and you dropped her, sending her across the floor in a trillion tiny shards of ice.

You decided on no more sleep.

Now with only a few more weeks until something has to happen with her, you’re massively sleep deprived and begging Loki to take you to Asgard for the birth.

“It’s too dangerous,” he says, pushing you back into bed. “The baby is too developed for that kind of travel while still inside you.”

He always says that.

Deep down you know he’s right, but you’re terrified and refusing to admit it. So you lay with your back turned to him every night and he lets you, knowing how mad you are, and just traces down your spine when he thinks you’re asleep.

You don’t sleep anymore, but you don’t say anything.

Three weeks until the due date and you can’t bear the exhaustion anymore, which has only coupled with a biting cold that follows you everywhere to make matters worse.

It is you, you know it, it’s inside you and you can’t escape it no matter how many blankets you hide under, and eventually you simply…slip away, off into a deep, freezing sleep that slows your heart and nearly stops your breathing altogether.

Something is hurting today, squeezing and pulling and punching. Maybe just your daughter eager to get into the world.

Huddled in one corner of the couch under an all-encompassing heap of blankets, neither Loki nor Elliot know where you’ve gone—mini-mountains of blankets have become the norm around the house—and they panic while you dream.

Oh, bliss.

You’re back in bed, warm, rested, empty, and staring into Loki’s mesmerising eyes.

“I love you,” you try to tell him, like you just came to that conclusion, but your voice comes out in a muffled gurgle, thick underwater. Another concentrated pain hits just then, but you ignore it.

He nods, slowly.

“Don’t leave me, Loki.”

This time, a shake of the head.

His hand finds your shoulder as your eyes immediately well with tears, a once comforting gesture that this time freezes your skin over with a biting ice. A pained whimper leaves your throat over the crackling of your frozen skin.

“Beautiful girl,” Loki finally whispers.

He brings his fist crashing into your shoulder, and your arm shatters into a million pieces.

Smiling, he flicks a piece of ice from the dip of your waist.

“Don’t break me,” you plead, unable to move but trying to wake yourself up. Just a dream, just a dream.

This time his hand cups your chin, fingers digging into your jaw as you freeze over and lose the ability to speak, and he leans closer, letting his lips brush your frozen ones: “beautiful, broken girl.”

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

His hand tightens one notch too tight and you shatter, half your face hollow and broken and melting in Loki’s palm.

You break beautifully, he whispers, and you feel yourself floating back towards consciousness. Hush, my sweet…shh…

Nearly to the surface but you’re still underwater, losing air and fighting to reach the top and you finally do, wrenching your eyes open to the light and gasping for breath.

Loki’s stroking a hand from your temple to your cheek, staring intently at you.

This is awake, you recognise, and Elliot pats your belly like a bongo, humming quietly to himself.

“Are you alright?” Loki moves more of the blankets over you; despite your sweating, you’re freezing. “I tried to bring you out of that one as fast I could.”

Yes, you want to say, thank you, but your throat is dry and you still feel like you’re underwater. Hell, your sweats still feel wet and you still feel broken.

Broken. Break.

Broke.

Still underwater.

You choke up a mouthful of water from the dream and grab a fistful of Loki’s shirt.

“My water broke.”

Loki blinks in stunned silence, Elliot sings “bum buh dum dum dum” and keeps patting your belly.

“That’s very clumsy of you, momma.”

“Now?” Loki asks incredulously, finally finding his voice. “It’s still too early—”

You shake your head, fingers scrabbling against his chest as your breathing quickens. “Now, Loki. Now, now.”

Now becomes a concept much too terrifying to accept—now is too early. Now is too soon.

Now should’ve been on Asgard, but now it’s too late.

Hospital, Loki hears himself suggesting, mind going numb at the thought of it. Hospital means driving and doctors and needles and cuts from paperwork and cold, drab white rooms with vomit pink curtains, a paper cup of water and sitting hard on the almost-linoleum floors.

The hospital would have been fine—in three weeks.

“No other option,” you grit out, eyes clenched shut and holding tight to your belly. “She’s not waiting for me.”

The first time you went through this process, your water broke at work and Loki was there in an instant, shouting at people to get out of your way while you giggled all the way down the elevator and into the car, too giddily excited for your baby to recognize much of the pain.

It helped keep Loki calm, too, allowing for him to drive to the hospital with few issues (maybe a little fast, but that was expected) and even as your contractions worsened and you slumped lower and lower in the passenger seat, you kept looking over at him and catching his eye. He’d lift his eyebrows—swerve around a corner—and you’d blurt out a laugh, cover your face with your hands, and take a few deep breaths.

This time, the smiles and excited laughter aren’t so present. Minus Elliot, whose mouth opens wider as he slowly comes to realise what the two of you are talking about.

His dad can’t quite seem to find the right angle to help you up—but you’re fighting against him, pushing his chest away instead of pulling him closer, eyes clenched shut and teeth gritting together.

Here, you ask, no…hospital—here? TAKE ME TO ASS-GARD—then you shout TRAITOR and break down in sobs, curling back around your belly.

“Elliot,” Loki smiles, a hand smoothing over your hip. “Could you give us a moment? I’ll call you if we need help.”

The little boy nods with a bright smile, flashing Loki a thumbs up before scurrying into the hallway—where he sits with his ear to the door, his head starting to throb.

“Take me to Asgard,” you hiss.

“I can’t.”

“TRAITOR!”

“It’s not safe—”

“This isn’t safe! She’s practically frozen to me, I’m—I’m so cold.”

Loki’s voice drops to a gentle murmur, only the mild timbre of his words making it through the door. Why do you hate me?? you’re crying, and nothing Loki says or does can console you, leaving Elliot on the other side of the door spiralling deeper and deeper into the worst of Loki’s panic and your rage.

His little hands start to shake and he takes a couple deep breaths, trying to ignore the gut-twisting pain shooting through his small frame.

“Momma?”

“I bet you planned this—”

“Mommy…”

His dad tries to soothe you but the pain is worsening and your daughter wants out, now. She’s moving quickly, an angry little thing already, not waiting for you.

“Just breathe, love. Just stand with me, let’s get you to the car—”

“Shut up,” you snap at Loki, stopping his sweet nothings and pointless reassurances in his throat. “Just have her here.”

Elliot tries to call for you again, trying to warn you because this already hurts and he got sent outside to feel your pain all alone, but you’re feeling it worse and more concentrated as Loki rushes to process what you’ve just asked of him.

“No, but the hospital—”

“Shut up,” you hiss through painfully gritted teeth. “Here. I can’t stand.”

“You would rather…” his hand stops on your hip and holds tight. “Here? Really?”

“You’re a god,” you grit out, eyes clenched shut as your daughter goes cold, “you know everything. I’m not gonna make it to a hospital. Get her out of me, Loki.”

—

Something cracks through the room amidst Elliot’s sobs.

“Fu—damn it,” Loki hisses, and wrenches his hand from yours.

Swollen and turning the most grotesque shade of yellowish-purple, his thumb is bending the wrong way.

“You broke my thumb,” he grunts from between your knees, blinking back tears.

It’s been years since anything actually hurt him, much less broke something, but you were shivering so violently and clutching onto his hand so tightly that it only took one push to make you snap his thumb.

“Sorry,” you choke, unable to find it in you to care too much. Later you’ll croon over him and kiss his bruises but for now, you’re pushing his child out of you. And she’s cold, so one finger can’t possibly be that bad.

The broken finger brings the whole birthing process to a quick pause as Loki scrambles to make some kind of splint for his thumb before getting back to you.

“Deep breaths,” he says under his breath, “deep breaths.”

Both of you follow his instructions, Loki’s lips moving rapidly in muttered incantations, trying to keep you from freezing over completely and the mess to a minimum, dull your pain, make this go as smoothly and correctly as possible.

A slumped, sobbing little pile on the other side of the door, Elliot has had to go forgotten for the moment. Three weeks too early, the baby is so tiny that the slightest wrong movement or slip in focus could end her life before it starts.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs when your head starts to roll limply back onto the floor. A deep breath splits him in two and he sends the duplicate to your side, already exhausted just from trying to keep you conscious enough to push.

“Keep breathing,” it whispers, stroking a hand along your frozen cheek, “almost there. Stay with me.”

Another push and you taste blood; must’ve bit your tongue amidst all the teeth chattering. Elliot goes quiet behind the door, then shrieks.

“MOMMA, BLOOD!”

“L-Lok—Elliot, get—”

“Shh, I’ve got him. Keep pushing, deep breaths.”

He hides his wince of pain and splits once more, sending a third bit of himself out the doorway to comfort the little boy while the other two keep trying to get this new baby into the world.

Your throat is closing in on itself, slowly but surely asphyxiating you and your fingers scratch at Loki’s broken hand, reaching for the real Loki, scratching his arm when no words will come out. He can only spare a single, quick glance up at your terrified face, eyes bloodshot and lips cracked from the dry iciness of the room.

Your head lolls, eyes rolling back in your head as you choke.

“Stay with me,” he pleads, squeezing your knee with a blood-covered hand. “Almost there.”

One last push and Loki shouts something in a language you can’t understand, but there’s a new weight pressing on your lower stomach for half a second, a blinding flash of blood-red light on the backs of your eyelids, and the world goes dark.

“No,” Loki croaks, and you hear one shrill, tiny cry from his arms, a heartbreaking sob from your son behind the door, and everything falls silent.

“No.”

—

She’s tiny.

Barely bigger than the palm of his hand.

The newborn should be squirming, should be crying and screeching in need of her mother, but she lays limp in Loki’s hands.

“No,” he whispers hoarsely. “No, no, breathe. Breathe.”

His fingers press gently on the slicked skin of her belly, once, twice, three times; he turns the tiny body on her side, trying again to get the little chest to lift with air.

No movement.

“No, nonono, no, no.”

A quick slice of the hand cuts the umbilical cord and it falls from her fragile neck. Loki cradles her close, staggering to his feet and holding her to his chest, bloody hands trying to bring the life back to her lungs and pressing her to his heart, trying to remind her’s how to function.

“Please,” he whispers, shakily running a hand over her tiny, slick head. “Stay with me, no, stay with me...”

You’re unconscious on the floor, lying in a pool of your own blood and Loki can’t be with you both, his duplicates phasing out of existence as he loses the strength to keep them up. Elliot yells again when the one he was with disappears, banging his little fists on the door, and Loki slumps against the far wall, staring at you with tears streaking his face.

You look dead. The baby in his arms is, and he can’t bring himself to look at her.

He hadn’t even gotten to see her eyes.

“Come back to me,” he pleads, trembling fingers running down her tiny body, ten toes, ten little fingers that should’ve curled around his, a little button nose and a dusting of dark hair on her head, blood on her cheeks.

Skin blue as the deep ocean, cold as a corpse.

“Breathe—”

Her fragile form presses against his chest and he holds her closer, trying to warm her, press her to his skin, to his pounding heart.

“Please. Breathe, breathe.”

The baby’s arm drops from his grip.

“No, no, stay with me…”

Should’ve gone to the hospital. Should’ve gone to the hospital.

It might be better if you don’t wake. He can’t face you after nine months of hell with nothing but a dead body to show for it.

Elliot’s finally given up. Loki can see him, lying in a heap against the crack under the door, silently shaking and staining the hardwoods with his tears.

His house falls silent.

For a moment he just sits there. Defeated. Alone. The tiny body of his daughter in his hands, your unconscious form bloodied on the floor.

Should’ve known better.

Frigga.

Frigga would’ve known better.

“Mother,” he chokes out, eyes closing as he cradles the lifeless baby to his heart. “Frigga. Allmother, all–all I had—help me.”

The last pleas fall into the silent house, soaking into the walls and fleeing through the windows as Loki repeats it, over and over and over:

Help us. Help us.

Let us have our daughter.

The very air in the room stills. Only dry sobs, with no tears left to spill break the brittle silence.

Don’t wake up, Loki finds himself hoping as he stares with an empty gaze at your unconscious body. I can’t explain this.

Elliot can feel it, he knows it hurts him, but it’s a good thing he can’t see this horrid scene, this murder scene in their home. His father slumped in a corner with dead eyes, a tiny, bloody baby limp in his arms. His mother in a pool of blood, unmoving.

Loki closes his eyes.

He’s seen enough.

Frigga. Please.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Then, a tiny cough.

Another cough and the tiny body shudders in his hands, curling in on herself, little hands curling into fists, her mouth opens in the tiniest scream—

His daughter cries, and it’s the most beautiful sound Loki has ever heard.

“Oh,” Loki chokes, tears stinging his eyes, “oh, my—”

Cradling her to his heart, he finally breaks. He’s shaking, trembling, laughing and crying all at once as he listens to his daughter cry, feeling her tiny hands reaching blindly, her little belly lifting with each shaky breath.

“Loki.”

It’s a hoarse croak from across the room, and you manage to lift a hand towards him.

“Oh,” is all he can choke out again, “you—”

His laughter mixes with your daughter’s cries and he crawls towards you, clutching the baby to his heart and running a shaking hand over her to wash her with a spell.

“Frigg,” Loki whispers hoarsely, grabbing your hand with his free one, broken thumb be damned. “Can we name her Frigg? Frigga—Frigga saved—”

“Frigg,” you breathe, and Loki lays the wriggling newborn on your chest. “Frigg, oh, you’re perfect…”

Loki carefully helps prop your back up against the couch, clutching your hand and pressing his forehead to yours, eyes clenched shut.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Frigg. A perfect name for the perfect child, a tiny, mewling little girl clutching at your chest and Loki can’t look away, stunned by the ease with which she shifts to her more human form when you cradle her close. 

Kneeling by your side, your hand in his clutched to his heart, he keeps his forehead against your temple and sends a silent thank you to the only mother he ever knew.

“Loki,” you murmur, the baby nuzzling against your neck, “she’s so beautiful. So beautiful.”

He can only choke out another teary laugh, nodding and squeezing your hand, not ready to let go yet as he kisses your forehead. 

A quiet moment passes just soaking in the fact that your little girl is breathing, you staring at her tiny movements while Loki lets himself catch his breath against your cheek. Right now, he can’t hold you tight enough.

You manage to tear your gaze away from Frigg and catch sight of Elliot laying against the crack under the door, and a pang of guilt twists your heart. 

“Loki,” you whisper, reaching up to stroke his tearstained cheek, “Elliot. Go get Elliot.”

He nods, eyes still tightly shut as he cradles your face in his hands and kisses you with a sharp inhale, breathing you in. When his eyes open, they have a new spark to them and he pulls himself to his feet, shaking his head with another disbelieving laugh at the sight of his wife and his daughter, alive, together, breathing, hearts beating. 

“Elliot,” he finally calls out, turning to open the door and stopping short when he sees his son curled up on the floor. “Elliot. Oh, kærr, come here.”

He bends and scoops the little boy into his arms, hugging him close as Elliot buries his face in Loki’s neck. 

“You have a new sister,” Loki softly tells him, rubbing his back and carrying him over to you. “What do think of the name Frigg?”

Your son just sniffles and hugs Loki tighter, not letting go even when Loki carefully sits besides you and Frigg, conjuring a warm blanket for the newborn.

“I know it’s not Blueberry,” you add, carefully wrapping her and keeping her as close as possible for the most body heat. “But I think it’s pretty good. What do you think, kiddo?”

“S’like gramma,” he sniffs, little voice muffled in Loki’s neck. “Right?”

Loki manages another laugh. “Right. Frigg. Just like gramma.”

Elliot eventually lifts his head, rubbing his red eyes with the back of his hand and leaning against Loki’s chest, staring at his new sister. 

“She’s real little.”

“She’s early,” you reply with a smile, thumb stroking over her soft head. “She should’ve been here next month, but she got too excited to meet her brother and couldn’t wait.”

A tiny smile tugs at Elliot’s mouth.

“Hi, Frigg.” 

Loki catches your gaze, the softest of smiles playing at his lips. 

“I’m gonna be your brother,” Elliot continues quietly, and sits up on Loki’s lap to look at Frigg a little closer. “You’re so tiny. Can I hold her?”

You chew your lip, glancing back up at Loki. “She needs all the warmth she can get right now, what do you think…?”

Loki just nods, carefully taking the bundled baby from your arms, laying a hand on her head as it glows gold. “I’ll take care of that,” he replies, and brushes his lips gently over her head. “Sit down here, Elliot, right next to mom.”

Elliot does, scrambling to sit crisscross against your side, arms reaching for Frigg. “Ready, ready.”

“Careful,” Loki warns him, gently placing the newborn in Elliot’s arms. “Support her head, right, keep your arm just like that.”

Elliot’s cheeks are puffed out as he holds his breath, focused strictly on perfecting the way to hold his baby sister, staring at her tiny nose and shut eyes. 

Not bothering to hide your smile, you lean in close, your hand under his arm to help support her head, just in case. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Elliot lets out his breath slowly, brows furrowing. 

“Nah, not really.”

Loki’s eyebrows shoot to his hair and you burst out laughing. 

“She’ll look completely different in a couple weeks,” you laugh, planting a kiss on the top of Elliot’s head. “She’s about to get really, really cute, don’t worry.”

Smiling softly, Loki shifts around to sit on your other side, draping his arm over your shoulders and leaning over to kiss your temple. “She is beautiful,” he whispers, stroking the back of one finger over her tiny cheek. “She is. We made that.”

“Frigg,” you whisper back. In the arms of your son, she sleeps quietly, tiny eyes shut tight. “Thank you, Loki. For everything.”

He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the back of it. 

The makeshift splint on his broken thumb rubs rough against your skin.

“Loki!” You grab his hand and he winces. “Your thumb, oh, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine,” he laughs. 

“No, it’s not, oh my god, I’m so, so sorry—”

“My first broken bone in a thousand years.” A finger under your chin, he tips your head up and catches your lips with his. “I’d say it was worth it.

―   ―   ―   ―

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424@fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @the-republic-and-face-of-texas

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@doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15

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@toozmanykids @brooklyn-times @nonsensicalobsessions @londonisacountry

#loki x reader #loki imagine #loki reader insert #loki x pregnant!reader #daddy!loki #loki fluff #dad!loki #domestic!loki #loki angst #elliot lokason #frigg lokadóttir #loki fanfiction

[bluebellhairpin]

‘The Son of Loki’

Like Father, like Son

(If you like Loki and haven’t checked out @gingerwritess fics themed ‘Loki's Happy Ending’ then you need to hurry up and read them because they’re amazing. I will forever promote her and her greatness and her writing genius. I love you Theo! ) 

I decided to re-draw Elliot (based off my other drawing of him) using Timothée Chamelet as a reference, and I now understand why Morgan likes him so much. 

Wanted to draw Frigg too. Didn’t. I regret it. Greatly. - Nemo 

P.S. It’s also, like, my first time drawing Loki, so please be gentle. 

#Elliot Lokason #Loki Laufeyson #gingerwritess #loki fanart #marvel fanart #elliot lokason fanart #loki x reader #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #frigg lokadottir

[francisketches]

NNNNNNGGGGHHH... I'm still learning backgrounds but I really wanted to draw @gingerwritess babies from her series, Loki's Happy Ending! Yeah. I read fanfiction. Sue me.

So here's a little Morgan and Elliot in a slippery slip in the snow!

#art #my art #digital art #artists on tumblr #artwork #loki (marvel) #morgan (marvel) #morgan stark #elliot lokason #gingerwritess #firealpaca #fanfic fanart #commisions open

[beeblebrox-be-damned]

A smol boi, a blue boi, a baby boi from my favorite fanfic series by @gingerwritess!! Love them babies and this author UwU

#elliot lokison #Elliot Lokason #jotunheimen #ginger writes #gingerwritess fanart

[skydiving-without-a-parachute]

Soul Mirror

A/N: My gorgeous wonderful cherished friend @gingerwritess​ reached 4k (!!) and to celebrate that she published a writing challenge. Solros, I’m so happy for you and proud of you. You have earned each and every follower, and at least 4k more. Here’s to you, my celtic rose. 🥂

Theo’s area of expertise is MCU, especially Loki. The following story is told by Elliot Lokason, Theo’s original character and son of Loki and the reader in her stories of Loki’s happy ending. The prompt I snatched was “puppy dog eyes”, but to be fair, this did spiral completely out of control.

Warnings: bullying, crying | Words: 1048 | Characters: Morgan Stark, Elliot Lokason, Tony Stark | Genre: fluff, light angst with happy ending, romance

There was a fire in her eyes. Wild and uncontainable; She was never one to back down from a fight. There was a fierceness in her that exceeded any girl I had ever known, and I very much doubted there would ever be one more electric than her. “Morgan, hey, it’s just me!” “Elliot! Sorry, I thought you were someone else”, she laughed, and her gaze softened. Whenever she smiled, so did her eyes. They were warm and chocolate-like, afire with depth and emotion, and so very easy to get lost in. I always thought they glimmered like the lakes of Asgard, which I would one day get to take her to see. Perhaps the sun would hit her eyes just in the right angle and make them blossom with colour, different shades of brown, all from honey to caramel and chocolate. It brought out all the nuances of her dark hair and revealed her lashes to be a warm, deep brown rather than jet black. And just enough sun would even entice her freckles to make an appearence on her nose and cheeks. Morgan was so breathtakingly pretty.

At that point I realized I had been staring, and could not turn my face away fast enough. Good thing frost giants don’t blush easily! Mom says that the eyes are the mirror to the soul. I didn’t really believe that, but Morgan has most definitely proved me wrong. She really has the kindest eyes, which totally matches her soul. I can’t remember meeting many people as kind as she is; She sticks with me and hangs out with me instead of the popular kids. That’s why our classmate Jeremy keeps saying things like “still haven’t discovered the element of cool?” to her and calls her Iron Nerd. She refuses to tell her parents about it and actually got mad at me when I told her she didn’t have to hang out with me, that she could go with the populars and we could meet up outside of school.

It’s hard to believe she would ever hurt anyone. Well… Anyone who didn’t deserve it. There was that one time she got into a fist fight and her dad showed up after the teachers called him. She was so grounded! I still can’t understand how Mr. Stark could ground her for six weeks, when Morgan was giving him the puppy dog eyes. Mom did say it took him years to learn to resist the look though. I would never learn, that much I had already decided. Morgan would always be able to get my scarf on a cold day or have me carry her books to class. Mr. Stark knows this and sometimes makes comments about it, mainly stuff like “are you sure you are Loki’s kid?”. I’m not sure what he means, but I like him. He’s carefree and makes the people around him laugh. Not as much as Morgan, but he’s still nice. I remember him being pretty cool - no pun intended - when I was little and he first saw me turn blue. He did treat me differently because of it for a long time. Not in a bad way, but he kept telling Morgan not to bring it up, and pretended not to see, if it happened. I like it when Morgan talks about it, because it makes her laugh. She calls me things like popsicle and smurf, and I made her call Frigg blueberry.

A smack brought me back to reality. “Ow, what was that for?” “The bell rang, Dory”, Morgan sneered. “I gotta go to class. See you after?” I nodded and gave her a smile. She was having a double science lecture, but I had promised we would walk together to the Tower, even though my day was already over. She was great at science, one of the best in her class. Another reason for the nickname Jeremy had given her. I think maybe he was just jealous of Morgan, who was really smart and good at well… Everything! She aced languages, science subjects, art class and P.E. Dodgeball was her favourite thing; She has the movements of a fox and was always the last player standing, even when it was boys against girls.

Over two hours later the bell rang and the doors opened. I got up from the floor as students flooded the hall and waited for a sunny Morgan to emerge, like she alwayd did. Not today, though. Today I was greeted by a hung head, as the students got out of the way, and Morgan was the last out of the class, dragging her feet. “Morg? What happened?” She just shook her head and turned her face away, but I could see the tears in her eyes, and they broke my heart. “Let’s get some ice cream, what do you say?” I tried cheering her up, but she shook her head again, and with a small voice pleaded that we just went home. Without doubt I agreed. Maybe her dad would get her to open up.

“It’s baby reindeer!” Mr. Stark’s voice came from the kitchen, when I walked Morgan in from the elevator. “Your dad is down training with Point Break.” He had a wide smile on his face as he came to greet us, a stain on his temple probably from working on something in his lab, but the smile died when he saw his daughter. “Morguna, honey, what is it?” he asked and gently wiped her teary eyes. I stood helpless, as she was silent for a good while, before peeping quietly: “We talked about your heart in science.” Mr. Stark’s worried face relaxed and he smiled softly. “This?” he asked, and tapped at the arc reactor with two fingers. Morgan nodded and looked away. “They said… Things.” “What things? That your dad’s a genius? The guy who saved the world?” he smirked, and made Morgan finally smile. “Yeah… Yeah, that’s what they said.”

I was going to ask Morgan once again to tell her dad how much shit was thrown her way in school, but then I saw her eyes. They had returned to the warm, glimmery state, and she was smiling. I couldn’t risk losing that smile. “Hey Frosty, want that ice cream?” “Yeah.”

Bonus! The original draft

“Oops, sorry, let me help you!” I blurted after accidentally running into Morgan so hard she had dropped the books she had been carrying in her arms. I was just about to pick up her math book, when my hand touched her hand. Her skin was so soft and warm, and reminded me of mom’s skin. Good thing frost giants don’t blush easily! On instinct I withdrew my hand as fast as I could, as did Morgan, but when I looked up, I wasn’t the only frozen thing in the hallway. Morgan was staring at me, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t look away. Norns, I swear even my breathing stopped.

They say the eyes are the mirror of the soul. Mom believes those kinds of things, as does Grandma Frigga, and mom keeps telling me about how I have dad’s eyes. She says she wouldn’t have it any other way, because she loves everything about dad’s eyes. I never put much faith it such things, but now, as I was staring into Morgan’s eyes… All I could hear was my heartbeat racing. Morgan had such beautiful eyes. Warm, chocolate brown eyes, like a puppy dog. They were kind and whenever she smiled, so did her eyes. Right now she was smiling. Slightly blushing too, but I didn’t notice, my mind was far too busy. She had long dark eyelashes and they framed her eyes, sparkling like the lakes of Asgard. I hoped that one day I could take her there. She would fit right in the landscape, and I bet she would love the horses.

Whenever I’m sad, mom tells me that nothing lasts forever. Neither did this, because there he was now. Jeremy was our classmate and he had targeted Morgan. I had been picked on since first grade, so for me it was nothing new, but Morgan had fallen unpopular in high school after she had chosen to hang out with me instead of the popular kids, like Jeremy. She was having a hard time, but wouldn’t let me help her. She had been that way since we were small. “Yo, Iron Nerd, still haven’t discovered the element of cool?”

A fire ignited in Morgan’s eyes, replacing the kindness that had just been there. Sometimes I could have sworn that Morgan was fully capable of staring someone to death, but Jeremy couldn’t care less. “I still think you should tell your dad”, I whispered to her. “No. You promised me!” “Fine, I won’t tell him”, I promised again, and that made Morgan’s stare soften again. Her smile got my heart beating harder. “Thanks, Elliot.”

#gingers4kwc #writing challenge #prompt #mcu #marvel #iron man #morgan stark #tony stark

[gingerwritess]

just a question regarding the loki imagines ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°),, if loki lives for thousands of years , what happens to his mortal wife and elliot? do they just die within their 100 years or so?? you might’ve answered this before but I was just curious...absolutely adore your writing!! xx

it’s the mortality talk. happy reading... (the read more tag isn’t working i’m sorry! it’s in the wrong place and i can’t move it :( )

warnings: talk of death/mortality, mentions of childbirth, poor editing

“Elliot’s finally down. He put up a fight this time.”

You glance up, watching Loki peel his shirt off. “That’s not like him.”

“Didn’t want to leave his Blueberry,” he chuckles. “Can’t blame him.”

A soft smile on his lips, he settles onto the bed beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple before laying his head on your shoulder to gaze down at the tiny baby girl in your arms.

“She’s a hungry one,” he murmurs, reaching down to cradle her head as she feeds. “Are you still okay?”

You nod with a small smile. You’re alright, all things considered. As okay as someone who nearly lost their child can be.

Loki wraps his arms around you for a moment, lifting you carefully to set you between his legs, resting against his chest. You don’t protest, focusing on keeping Frigg close, and you feel him kiss the top of your head, run a hand down the back of your neck.

That all-too-familiar warmth curls around your shoulders and you can’t help but sink back into him as the tension gives way to a relief you haven’t felt for nine months.

It’s a somber evening.

You want to celebrate, revel in the fact that your daughter is alive, in your arms, but...neither you nor Loki can manage to keep a smile on your face for more than a few minutes at a time.

Neither of you want to bring it up, either.

So you sit there, giving your daughter any life you can offer, and Loki cradles you both close against him, arms under yours and head against your cheek, his breath tickling your skin.

He brushes a finger over Frigg’s cheek as she sucks, and her whole body jerks, a tiny hand hand flying out to grab Loki’s finger.

“Ow.”

You grimace, the sudden movement not exactly comfortable, and try to reposition her for a bit more relief.

“Sorry,” Loki whispers, dropping a kiss to your cheek.

Silence settles heavy over the room again, both of you staring at this miracle of a baby in your arms, gripping onto Loki’s finger with a tiny death-grip.

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Loki...”

He grabs your chin in his free hand and kisses you, hard.

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

Your eyes sting when he pulls away, trying to give you a steady smile, a reassuring gaze, trying to be everything you need.

That only makes this harder.

“Yes, we do,” you manage to say, quickly turning to lean back against him; tears are the last thing he needs from you right now. “We can’t keep ignoring this, it’s–it’s going to catch up with us.”

You feel him swallow thickly behind you, his chest lifting under your back.

“We can keep doing what we’re doing. Not thinking about it. Focus on the present, and whatever happens in–in the future...”

His voice cracks, and he falls silent.

The grip he has on you borders on bruising.

Your vision swims and you take a shuddering breath, clutching your daughter to your chest.

“What the hell are we doing?”

He can only make a distraught noise in the back of his throat, giving a tiny jerk of his head. Seconds away from breaking, you can tell.

“We had another kid,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “And she can die.”

Loki is breathing sharply through his nose, his teeth gritted and eyes clenched shut, willing this conversation to die and fix itself.

“Loki.” You tap the back of his hand. “Did I die, too?”

The desperation in the way he buries his face in the curve of your neck answers the question for you.

No force of clenching your teeth can stop the tears anymore, and you quickly shift Frigg to one arm and press your fingers to your eyelids, rubbing away the tears before they fall, fighting back the lump in your throat.

“What are we doing?” you choke out again, not trusting your eyes to be open. “Loki, we–we have kids, what the hell were we thinking—”

“Stop it,” he hisses, still hiding in the curve of your neck. “Don’t do that.”

“I have to,” you plead, voice trembling. “If you won’t think about it, someone has to, and–and I’m going to be the one who dies—”

His grip on you tightens. “Please stop.”

You couldn’t if you tried.

“You’ll just move on, and the kids—they’ll probably stay with you, too, or maybe they’ll die with me, and we have to live the rest of our lives just waiting for them to die—”

“Shut up,” he groans into your skin.

“I can’t live like that,” you choke, clapping a hand over your mouth at the awful sob that escapes. “I don’t know what we were thinking, getting together, having kids—”

“Shut up, norns, stop.”

“No, you listen to me,” you gulp, eyes clenched shut. “I’m just a human, you’re–you’re like, four other things and I don’t even know why we thought this could work—I won’t–I won’t even get your lifetime, much less th—”

An ice-cold, blue finger lodges itself between your teeth, shocking the rest of your worries to freeze in your throat, and Loki lifts his tear stained face to level with your ear, forehead pressed to your temple.

“Bite,” he hisses in your ear. “Do it. As hard as you can.”

Teary eyes wide and frantic, you try to protest and squirm out of his grip, but his gaze is feral, breathing erratic.

“Bite.”

So you do, eyes locked with his.

His eyelids flutter shut when your teeth break skin, frozen blood dripping onto your lips.

For a horrid moment he won’t move, and Frigg has stopped sucking, probably disturbed by your pounding heart; his hand is blue over your jaw, pulling your head back against his shoulder, his bleeding finger still between your teeth.

“‘Oki,” you gulp around his finger, the tightness of your throat starting to choke you up again.

“My blood,” he whispers, staring down at your mouth. “By your doing.”

You nod frantically, your eyes pleading with him to let you go. You told me to.

Even with the bruising grip he has on you, you can’t find it in yourself to be upset at him for it; he’s grounding you, grounding himself, in the only way that makes sense to him.

“Breathe.”

He says it to himself, struggling to remember how, but you follow his silently counted focus with him, reaching up to brush your fingertips across his lips.

Minutes tick by before you’ve noticed your chest rising and falling with Loki’s, your heartbeat slowing; your day-old daughter latches back on, her tiny eyes opening to gaze up at you.

Loki hasn’t reached the point of opening his eyes.

You move for him, reaching up and carefully pulling his hand away from your mouth, placing a gentle kiss on the bite mark.

“Thank you,” he breathes, staring at the bite.

Generally when something like this happens, it’s only to one of you, and the other is there to help the other back to their feet. But this time, you don’t know if you can lift him when you’re still fallen yourself.

So when he presses his lips to your jaw and whispers “let’s have it out,” it catches you by complete surprise.

“You don’t...want to wait?”

“No. We’ve waited too long already, you were right.”

You take another deep breath; here we go. This has to be figured out. Decided.

“Turn around,” he adds quietly, nudging your back to help you turn to face him. “I need to look at you.”

You oblige him, cradling Frigg close to not disrupt her, and when you sit between his legs facing him and get a good look at him, your heart shatters.

“We’ll figure it out,” you promise, caressing his tear-stained cheek with your free hand. “That’s what we do.”

He nods; but it’s more of a resignation, a farewell before marching off to war, a goodbye wave out of a window.

Where to start.

—

“So,” Loki begins shakily, “you–you are going to die. Soon.”

You give him a sad smile. “Right. And you are going to keep living. For a long time after I’m gone.”

His eyes snap shut and he grunts, smashing a fist to his mouth to stop the sob that he almost lets out.

You give him a moment.

“You’ll ruin me,” he eventually concedes, voice still muffled and thick with tears. “If you die, I’ll be ruined. There’s no way I could function, I–I couldn’t be what our children need.”

“You know that’s not true...”

He holds up a hand. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

Your heart sinks, and you take his hand in yours and hold tight.

“Then let’s figure out our options.”

“You come with me,” he blurts, “you eat the fruit, extend your life to match mine, we give it to the kids, and nobody has to go. Nobody...nobody leaves.”

“But we would need Odin’s permission,” you point out, stroking your thumb over his knuckles. “And we don’t know how human bodies would react to that.”

“Then I will steal them for you.” Loki lurches forward, eyes ablaze, and grabs your face in his hands. “I will break every law I’ve ever known and rewrite the rules of nature, just to have you by my side.”

Your eyes burn and you look down at Frigg, wishing your husband didn’t sound so desperate, so certain that he knows the perfect solution.

“That’ll just cause a million problems. Humans with immortality, it’s not going to be a good mix. If I can have it, then every human is going to feel they have a right to it.”

“Then we don’t tell any other humans. Keep it above the clouds, between us.”

Your eyes close with the soft shake of your head, and Loki bares his teeth in a quiet snarl.

“Talk to me,” he pleads, eyes glistening. “Why not? Tell me, please, tell me.”

“I don’t...” you swallow thickly, gaze darting to anywhere but his.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know if I want to live forever.”

You watch the words smack him across the face. Imprint themselves on his forehead, gouge his eyes out. In an instant his face sets like stone, a practiced facade void of any betraying emotion.

“You don’t?”

“I...I don’t know,” you whisper; he looks so hurt. “Hear me out, okay? It’s not you.”

He stays silent, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“I think...maybe it’s nice having an endpoint,” you start cautiously. “Knowing that one day I’ll have reached the end, and–and hopefully have done a good job. That’s been the only constant my entire life.”

“And you actually want that??”

“I don’t know.”

“You should know,” Loki says incredulously, staring at you as if you’d gone insane. “There’s no question, I–I can’t believe you’re even entertaining this.”

“What about the kids?” You nod towards the door; Elliot. “He has friends. We have friends, I have family—human family—and I’ll have to watch them die. If my life changes, I can’t just bring along anyone I want. It doesn’t work like that.”

He clenches his jaw, his gaze dropping to Frigg. “It can work like that for us.”

“But it’s not just us. Everyone we know and love would die and we would have to watch.”

“So you’re scared.” He taps a finger on Frigg’s tiny toes. “You’re just scared of losing people?”

“Of course I am,” you hiss. “I’m terrified, and you certainly aren’t helping put me at ease.”

That hits him a little harder, and for a moment he stays silent, absently playing with Frigg’s toes while she continues to eat.

“There’s still the other option,” you quietly remind him, reaching over to catch his hand in yours.

“Ah, the one where I kill myself for you?”

“No...no, Loki, don’t.”

“I’ve tried,” Loki says bluntly, eyes stone cold. “It didn’t work out well.”

You chew your lip, thumb rubbing over his knuckles. “You’re scared, too. You’re not fooling me.”

His shoulders sink.

It’s perfectly twisted, and he shouldn’t be so surprised that this is how his life would end up: you want to die together, he wants to live together.

And you’re both terrified.

“I’m...sorry. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “Which one, then?”

“Choose a sacrifice,” you quietly answer. “I don’t think there’s a happy ending either way.”

Loki falls silent, his gaze dropping to his hand in yours. Your thumb still moves over his knuckles, his daughter cradled to your chest.

“Would you...be happy if we went my way?”

You can’t answer; you don’t have an answer.

Your husband nods. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, eyes clenched shut, “I don’t know. Humans have never had to answer a question like that, I-I have no category for something like this. I don’t know.”

“Alright.” He forces a smile, catching your thumb with his. “Then starting now, I have about seventy years until I die.”

You blink up at him through teary eyes. “What??”

“I’ll die. When you do.” He reaches up and wipes away one of the tears that makes it down your cheek, a cracked smile on his lips. “We’ll go together, when the time is right.”

“No,” you choke, “no, I can’t make you do that—”

“My love.”

The tears on his cheeks only adorn his smile all the more beautifully, and he takes your face in his hands, brushing his thumb over your lips.

“You are not making me do anything.”

“I’m guilting you,” you gulp. “Aren’t I?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Not in the slightest. I’m choosing this. You are my choice.”

“Loki—”

Pressing his lips to yours, he shuts you up with a harsh kiss. “I would rather live a hundred years by your side,” he murmurs, “than five thousand more without you.”

“But I’m asking you to die,” you whisper, searching his eyes for the lie, “I am asking you to kill yourself for me. Just say no and leave, Loki, say no.”

He laughs softly and shakes his head again. “No. You’ve sacrificed enough for me, let me try to repay you for all you’ve done.”

You can only stare up at him, trying to regain control of yourself, clutching your daughter close; Loki just smiles, and you know his mind is made.

“I think,” he says, and kisses the tip of your nose, “perhaps I was only allowed my...immortality or whatnot, to keep me alive until I met you.”

You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “What do you mean?”

“Perhaps I am a man out of time.” His gaze drops to Frigg. “I know this is where I am supposed to be, so maybe now is the time when my eternity ends and I become a part of yours.”

“You–you mean it?” You sniff, and Frigg lets out a quiet mewl to let you know she’s had her fill.

“More than I’ve ever meant anything in my life.”

“Are you sure??”

“Listen to me,” he laughs, carefully taking Frigg from your arms. “You’ve given me life a hundred times over—and two entirely new lives.” He kisses Frigg’s tiny forehead. “So the least I can do is give you mine. End of discussion.”

Frigg starts crying then, and Loki pulls himself to his feet to gently rock her and pace around the bed, quietly crooning at the tiny girl.

In another world, it’d be laughable: she barely extends the length of his hands when he cradles her in them. And he can only stare at her, this little being he lost and gained all at once.

Steeling yourself, you manage to sit up on your knees—everything still hurts from giving birth just a day before—and call Loki over.

He gently pushes you back down though, back onto the pillows, and sits beside you. Your teeth worry at your bottom lip, and you study his eyes.

“Are you lying?”

The only change you find in them is a new sadness, his soft smile faltering.

“I am not,” he promises, “and I cannot. Not to you.”

Elliot’s tired eyes peek through the doorway before you have a chance to ask him one more time.

“Why’s she crying, momma?”

“You,” Loki frowns at the little boy—half-heartedly, of course, “are supposed to be asleep.”

That guilty grin is going to get him into trouble one day.

He gives some rambling excuse, something about his heart hurting and his head hurting and it being too loud to fall asleep, but you don’t care. There’s a light in Elliot’s eyes that lifts the weight off your chest, a glimmer of contentment in the kid’s grin, and you don’t want him to go back to bed.

Once his sister is secure in his arms, Loki scoops them both up and carries them to your bed. “You have to sleep,” he warns him, tapping him on the nose. “No tricks tonight, your mother needs to rest.”

Elliot only giggles and hugs Frigg to his chest, the little prince snuggling into the pillows between you and Loki. 

You lay back down, watching Elliot make faces at the baby, and Loki climbs into bed on his other side with a quick smooch to his cheek. He reaches over Elliot’s legs and takes your hand, giving it a squeeze, and you offer him a small smile, half-hidden in your pillow. 

Should we tell him? you mouth, and Loki presses his lips into a thin line, mulling over the thought. 

Between the two of you, Frigg blows a spit bubble, which only makes Elliot laugh so hard he snorts, and Loki shakes his head with a smile he can’t fight.

Not for a long, long time.

You nod and squeeze his hand, too. 

“Goodnight, crazies.” 

“Night,” Elliot giggles, and you know no sleeping is going to be happening anytime soon. “Love ya.”

“I love you,” Loki announces, tapping his thumb on the back of your hand. “I love all three of you, so, so much.”

You fall asleep that night hand-in-hand and cuddled up to your babies, content with the firm decision that that, however long this life lasts, will be enough.

―   ―   ―   ―

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424@fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @the-republic-and-face-of-texas

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#loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki imagine #loki fluff #loki angst #domestic!loki #dad!loki #daddy!loki #loki fanfiction #frigg lokadóttir #elliot lokason

[gingerwritess]

oh my god this sounds so needy but i feel like loki and the reader as parents whenever elliot gets his first kiss would make me мєℓт please i need that in my life

ok i got too excited and wrote them a first kiss before all the predating tension just like always soo here. (ps you and loki do make an appearance at the end, it’s not just all morgan and elliot!)

warnings: kissing? yeah kissing and they’re underage if that bothers you but like. it’s just kissing and they’re both 16 and it’s consensual now nobody make this weird okay

Setting a romantic mood was unintentional, but definitely not unwelcome.

Outdoor hallways by candlelight. Asgard kind of is a romantic mood.

He should’ve known better.

Elliot’s simply escorting Morgan back to her room, nothing more. Simply being a prince and whatnot, gentlemanly and proper.

(Well, that’s a lie—Loki had suggested it. Said it would be a golden opportunity, and that it had worked wonders when he was courting you. Then he zoned out completely, turned a lovely shade of pink, and ran off to go kiss you—he assumes.)

So he’s giving it a try. He hadn’t exactly had to offer to walk her, they’d been so engrossed in a familiar debate about mjolnir and elevators that he only realized what was happening when one of the guards, clearly off-duty, walked by and winked at him.

He’d nearly choked at the implications—and quickly realized that yeah, strolling down at candlelit hallway, completely unsupervised and very close together, might have certain…connotations.

“Inanimate objects must be held to different standards than live beings,” she rambles, hands in front of her moving wildly as she tries to logic it out. “It just doesn’t make sense. I mean, physics.”

“Think beyond physics,” Elliot laughs. “More like magic.”

“Right, right, magic.” A small smile tugs at her lips and she bumps him in the arm. “What about you, are you worthy?”

“…maybe.”

“Oh, come on, Elliot, just tell me.”

Clasping his hands behind his back, Elliot smiles with a hum and strides a little further than her, Morgan breaking into a jog to keep up. “But it’s much more fun to keep you guessing…”

“Fine, be difficult,” she huffs and grabs his arm to slow him down. “Then what about me? Think I’d be worthy?”

Turning to look at her, Elliot’s heart jumps to his throat and he can’t help but stare. Golden in the candlelight, she’s beauty and warmth personified, the heat Elliot needs to survive.

Her bottom lip catches between her teeth with her grin, and Elliot quickly averts his gaze, face heating.

“Yeah. Without a doubt.”

Morgan pumps her fist in the air with a hissed “yes,” and Elliot keeps walking, trying to steady his breathing.

He’s been flustered all night, but now that they’re alone, it’s reached a new level.

Whoever dressed her for the festival should be fired, he decides, keep his eyes trained forwards only. Rose pink suits her too well, and she could be a goddess of spring, embroidered flowers hidden in the drapes of soft fabric flowing behind her as she walks beside him.

Her short brown hair, chopped over her shoulders and tucked behind her ears, has gentle waves in it, curls that have given up their lives to the night’s dances and laughter and festivities.

Morgan is glowing.

Glistening in the golden candlelight and dimpled cheeks tired from smiling for so long, yet she still finds the energy to skip down the corridor, spinning on her heel when she reaches the doorway to the next and eagerly watching Elliot catch up to her.

Blurred around the edges, softened curves and fierce eyes for once gentle, he can’t help but stare when she doesn’t move from the doorway as he passes through it, too.

It’s a small doorway, arched and dimly lit and they’re chest to chest, Morgan gazing up at him with a plot in her sly smile that twists Elliot’s stomach into knots.

“Sorry,” Elliot stutters, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. He doesn’t miss how Morgan’s eyes flit down to watch.

He should move, but finds himself not wanting to.

“Can I tell you something?” Morgan asks breathlessly, still unable to look away from his mouth.

Elliot just makes a sound, a sorry little croak in the back of his throat that he’ll spend eternity wishing he hadn’t made.

“I miss you,” she smiles, reaching between the two of them to take his hand. “I miss being with you every day.”

His eyebrows knot upwards in the sweetest way. “Me, too,” he whispers, then his eyes go wide. “No, not me, me miss you—I-I miss you—”

She lifts her hand, bringing Elliot’s up with it to press her palm flat to his, and his voice catches in his throat. His fingertips are helplessly dusted with that lovely blue, and a spot of it spreads from his palm to his wrist.

His gaze jumps to their hands. Hers burns, in the best way.

“Sorry,” he manages to whisper, blue fingers itching to be hidden in a fist or a pocket again. “You–you make me nervous.”

“Nervous?” Her smile falls in the slightest, eyes widening in concern.

Elliot shuts his eyes when he nods, cursing himself for admitting to that out loud.

“Out of control,” he quietly clarifies. “Uncertain.”

She chews her bottom lip, searching his face, abysmal eyes digging deep into his until he can barely take another breath.

One of her dimples reappears. It’s a calculated movement.

“You’re doing a terrible job of escorting me, your worshipfulness. We haven’t exactly moved in the last five minutes.”

Elliot’s breath leaves him in one nervous laugh. “Terribly sorry, m’lady,” he teases and offers his arm. “Shall we depart?”

“Straightaway, my lord,” she replies with a grin. Linking her arm through his, the pair set off down the next corridor, gazes fixed only ahead.

This corridor is lined on one side by libraries and lounges, doorways framed by candles that won’t ever burn out, inviting you in for a jaunt through the pages of something ancient. On the other side, however, Asgard’s beauty tempts the viewer to stay in the fresh air.

Open on the one side with stone pillars and a waist-high ledge, Asgard gleams below the palace, bursting with life.

“Oh,” Morgan breathes, and her arm falls slack in the crook of Elliot’s. “This is…”

“Breathtaking.”

She nods, her gaze trained on soaking in as much of this view as possible, knowing that the next visit to the realm is never certain.

Her arm still linked with his, he takes the few steps needed to reach the open ledge, the night breeze kicking up the ends of his curls as she leans out into the open air, breathing deep.

It’s air in his lungs, watching her inhale his home.

Her arm has left his, but he can’t bring himself to mind in exchange for this. Trying not to stare too blatantly, he leans against the stone ledge beside her and breathes deeply for his own reasons.

“How do you come back to Earth,” she murmurs, opening her eyes to the kingdom once again, “after knowing about this?”

With difficulty, he wants to say, he probably should say, but that’s a lie. It’s not that difficult to return.

“With a good reason to keep coming back,” he replies, picking at the palm of one hand. “It’s not that bad.”

She casts him a sideways glance, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

For whatever reason she hopes she knows, he won’t meet her gaze, but the beginnings of a smile are there, too.

“You know, I didn’t get to dance with you, my liege.”

It’s true, he’s been kept busy for almost the entire dinner by a visiting princess and her gaggle of duchesses and advisors from Alfheim, leaving Morgan to fidget alongside her parents as they mingled.

“Sorry.” Elliot finally breaks, and a laugh leaves his throat. “I tried, I swear. Thought it just…might be rude to storm off in the middle of a marriage proposal.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.” He laughs at his hands, and a couple unruly curls fall into his eyes. “You’d be surprised, the objectification of royalty here is crazy.”

Morgan’s eyebrow quirks. “Objectification sucks, doesn’t it?”

He gives her a sad smile, resting on his elbows on the ledge beside her. “If you ever catch me objectifying someone, please slap me.”

She grins and nudges him with her hip. “With pleasure.”

A deafening cheer fills the air from a pub down below, giving them a welcome distraction, almost enough to the point of Morgan giving up and suggesting they go to bed for real—that is, until Elliot makes the bold move and locks his little finger with hers, refusing to look at her.

You make me nervous.

She has a hunch that he may be a little… inexperienced in this field. The childish spark they might have had back on earth, holding hands and giggling to each other at the top of their staircase, was just that—a child’s distraction.

An excuse for all the time they spent with each other.

He’d grown up, moved away—far away—and time passed for both of them.

Nervous…damn it.

She’d forced it.

Morgan pulls her hand away, fixing her gaze away from him and tucking her hands under her crossed arms.

“We should get to our rooms,” she says stiffly. Pretending not to notice how Elliot’s face falls, she straightens and steels herself, quelling every hope she had for this little walk back to her room.

“Okay.”

Into his pockets go his hands, all too comfortable hidden from sight, and they begin the walk back to Morgan’s room in silence.

She won’t look at him anymore, and she leaves much more space between the two of them, this time.

They barely make it to the end of the corridor before her resolve cracks and she stops.

“Elliot.”

“Yeah?”

She holds up her hand. “Why did you do that?”

He swallows thickly, heat rushing to his face. “Do, uh, what?”

“You know what. You…you did the finger holding thing again. The last time you did that we ended up holding hands—and we were eleven.”

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts, taking a step away away from her. “I thought–I thought you wanted to, I didn’t—I’m so sorry, I thought I read the moment, maybe what I was supposed to do—”

Her heart twists, falling to the pit of her stomach as she lowers her hand.

“Just what you’re supposed to do?”

He couldn’t look more uncomfortable, refusing to look her in the eye and picking at his palm.

“I have no idea. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.”

The two of them stand there, opposite sides of the corridor, both wishing the other would say something.

Elliot wishes it didn’t have to be him.

“What did you want to happen tonight?”

Her eyes go wide. “No. Nonono, get out.”

“I’m not in your head,” he promises, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m not, I swear. I’m…I’m trying to do this normally.”

She purses her lips and blinks quickly a few times, glancing above his head to avoid that stare.

“You’re not doing a very good job, frosty.”

He lets out an exasperated groan, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “You can’t expect me to do what you want if I don’t know,” he points out, “and I can’t know what you want unless you either tell me or let me in.”

It’s her turn to groan, and she clenches her eyes shut and her fists by her side.

“Fine,” she grits out. “I wanted something to happen tonight. Y’know. With us.”

His voice catches in his throat.

“But if I make you nervous, and you’re just doing what you think you’re supposed to do,” she continues, eyes still squeezed shut, “then I don’t want it. You don’t want it. I don’t want to force you into anything, okay?”

His mouth opens, eyes wide, then closes again—and a few more times, because she’s rendered him speechless, and if he moves, he’s sure he’ll faceplant onto the floor.

Morgan lets out a slow breath, cheeks burning in the candlelight. “Okay. Let’s never talk about this again.”

“No,” he croaks, “wait—”

A deep breath does the both of them good, and Elliot tries to steady his voice.

“I thought you might not want anything. Didn’t want to force anything on you, and–and it’s…a different kind of nervous.”

She bites back a flustered laugh. “So…that got us far.”

He can only offer a cracked grin back.

Her turn.

And he waits.

Picking at the palm of one hand, he studies her, deciding then and there that maybe everything he’s felt the past few years made some semblance of sense after all.

“Damn it,” she groans, huffing an annoyed puff at the roof of the corridor. “This would be a lot easier if I could just read your mind.”

“Yeah, well, you too,” he sighs. “Are you going to tell me anything?”

She bites her lip—

“No.”

“Okay.” Elliot tries to smile, pretend like it’s not gnawing at his insides. “Then let’s just go—”

“You can…y’know. Read my mind or whatever you do.”

He freezes, narrowing his eyes at her. “You’re joking, right?”

“No,” she whispers. “Do it.”

“I don’t—are you sure you want me to?

“Yes. Do it.”

He doesn’t do anything—at least, it doesn’t look like he does anything, just staring at Morgan as she squeezes her eyes shut, but his heart starts pounding.

An avalanche of words, emotions, doubts, and fears make him stumble backwards in shock.

“What—”

A couple phrases keep coming to the surface, pulsating a little louder than the rest.

He can’t stop staring, and Morgan cracks an eye open again, already wincing at what his reaction might be.

“You…okay?”

He doesn’t move, lips still parted in shock.

“I’m sorry,” she gushes, unable to hold it back anymore, “see, I told you I didn’t want to force it, I’m-I’m so sorry—”

Elliot swallows thickly and takes a cautious step towards her.

“Here.”

He presses his fingertips to her forehead, closing his eyes and bowing his head to her. 

Crisp and clearly him, his thoughts fill her mind, one echoing above the others.

I wouldn’t complain if you did.

He barely gets to move his hand away before his back slams into a pillar by the ledge—then she’s kissing him.

—

Thud.

Loki glances up from his book, his thumb stilling against your ankle. “What was that?”

You shrug and flip a page. “Maybe another book fell.”

He purses his lips, listening intently for a moment longer. No other sound is heard, and he goes back to his reading. 

He’s barely started to stroke your ankle again when the thud is replaced by furious shuffling, a distinctly human rustle outside the library door, and Loki frowns.

“That wasn’t a book.”

Lifting your legs off his lap with a sigh, you stand and cast a look around the little library. “Guards?”

“No,” he replies, conjuring a dagger, just in case. “Not yet.”

You head for the nearest open window while Loki moves quietly to glance out the doorway, dagger at the ready—and immediately ducks back inside, eyes blown wide.

“What?” You rush to his side. “Was something out there? There’s nothing on the other side—”

“Our…son,” Loki croaks. 

You frown. “What?”

He just points wordlessly out the doorway.

Giving him a strange look, you step to the doorway and peek outside.

Oh.

Yeah. Your son.

Morgan Stark has your son lip-locked against a stone pillar and looks close to swallowing him whole.

“Oh, my god.” Ducking back inside, you clap a hand over your mouth. “What the hell—what do we do??”

“Should…should we do anything?” A grin is starting to work it’s way onto your husband’s face. “I mean, they seem to be enjoying themselves—”

“Loki!”

“What? I mean, clearly—oh, norns, this is going to escalate if they keep at it.”

“Oh, my god—do something,” you hiss, risking another glance outside; nope, shouldn’t have done that, there’s definitely tongue involved. “Loki, I swear to god, do something, if Tony sees, they’ll never come back—”

He furrows his brow with a little pout. “Why do I have to be the bad guy here? You go break them up—oh. Mhm, that’ll be a challenge.”

Morgan’s not exactly being gentle, but Elliot certainly doesn’t seem to mind.

“Do something,” you order again, pushing him to the door. “They’re literally on display for all of Asgard, on this balcony. Anyone could look up.”

Loki just hums, leaning back to stop you from pushing him out the doorway. “Maybe they like that. Must run in the family—”

With a smack on the ass and a hissed warning, you shove him one last time and he stumbles into the corridor.

Neither of the two young lovers even notice him.

He clears his throat—still no break in the violent make-out against the ledge. 

Okay, he’ll try a different approach.

Deep breath.

“EWW, ELLIOT, THAT’S GROSS, STOP, PLEASE, THAT’S DISGUSTING—”

―   ―   ―   ―

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424@fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @the-republic-and-face-of-texas

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@toozmanykids @brooklyn-times @nonsensicalobsessions @londonisacountry @peterparkerbabyyy @rogvewitch

#loki x reader #dad!loki #loki imagine #loki reader insert #domestic!loki #morgan stark #daddy!loki #loki fluff #morgan x elliot #elliot lokason #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction

[gingerwritess]

What would Elliot's first word be and how would Loki react? Btw love your writing❤️

nobody move or you’ll scare the content away

ugh i am so sorry i haven’t been able to write much! thank anyone who stuck around! i’ve been having to focus mostly on my school related writing (plus got a job so woo!) and its definitely not slowing down anytime soon, but here’s a little something i did manage to get out.

i don’t think i’ll ever get over the idea of Loki being a dad

A light that isn’t supposed to be on is on in the kitchen.

Every night, you turn out all of the lights in the house but a dim lamp by Loki’s bedside, so this one is foreign enough to rouse you from your rest and wake you to the point of realizing that your husband is gone.

Grabbing your robe off the floor, you slip it on as you pad down the hallway, stifling a yawn. Not only has your baby on a strange, reversed sleep schedule, but Loki doesn’t seem to need sleep either. This isn’t the first time he’s been up and about in the wee hours of the night.

Maybe another nightmare, maybe just a messed up inner alarm clock…you never know.

Shadows dance across the walls before you even reach the doorway, and Loki speaks in a hushed little baby voice.

“I love you, Elliot! My little blue baby, I love you!”

You pause in the doorway before he can see you.

On the floor with his back to a cupboard, Loki, gloriously jötun and clad in only a pair of loose silk pants, sits crisscross and holds your tiny son in his hands out in front of him.

Elliot is cooing happily and squirming in Loki’s hands, his hands large enough to comfortably take the place of the little baby’s bed, and he brings him closer to place the gentlest kiss on his delicate forehead.

You peek your head in through the doorway for a better look.

Oh. Elliot’s blue, too.

The golden kitchen light softens Loki’s jötun skin to a sky blue and his eyes to almost pink, and if you didn’t already love him, he’d be terrifying. But in your kitchen murmuring to his son how they’re going to help each other and saying I love you like a prayer, he’s a work of art.

Blue and etched with markings, cold and blood-eyed, you know your son will look like him, too, all sharp angles and structure and untouchable as a knife.

Dangerous but beautiful as the winter.

“I love you, Elliot.”

He gurgles in response and kicks a chubby foot in Loki’s face, three of his tiny toes the same blue as his father.

Loki catches the little foot and kisses it, bending his knees to rest the baby against his thighs. “Do you think I’m getting better at this?” he whispers. “We can keep having these little rendezvous, I think they’ve been helping.”

Tugging the robe tighter around you, you fight back another yawn and lean as close through the doorway as you can manage without interrupting.

“I love you,” he repeats, holding Elliot up and running the tip of his finger along the four marks on his left eyebrow, curving softly above his pinkish-red eye. “Don’t worry, I have those ones, too.”

You watch him shift back to his aesir form, Elliot following suit when Loki kisses his chubby cheek—then he shifts back to jötun, resting his forehead against his son’s until the two of them are blue again—or at least, splotched with blue.

There in the dim light, Loki does it again, murmuring how he loves him and switching back and forth between their two forms.

“You are a very pretty colour,” he whispers with a small smile. He sounds like you do whenever he’s in this form, trying to convince him of his beauty. “Your mother thinks so, too. She’s very strange.”

Elliot gazes up at him with those big red eyes and sticks his toes in his mouth.

“That’s very insightful of you, Elliot.”

The baby giggles. “Ah-loo.”

Your heart stops and Loki’s voice dies in his throat.

“What?”

“Ah-loo!”

Loki scrambles to pull himself off the floor, a beaming grin spreading over his blue face. “What, Elliot?”

Your son keeps giggling and still half asleep, you don’t think to run to them before Loki’s running into you in the doorway, crashing into you while Elliot’s first word bubbles from his throat.

“Loki, that’s his first—”

“I was just coming to wake you,” Loki interrupts excitedly, landing a kiss that doesn’t quite follow through to your cheek. “Shh, shh, listen—who’s the cutest bluest baby?”

Held out in front of you in Loki’s hands, Elliot sticks out his tiny tongue and blows a spit bubble. “Ah-loo!”

“Loki,” you laugh, and wrapping your arms around his waist from behind him, you can’t think of anything more that needs to be said; right now, Elliot is the only one with something to say, and he does.

“Ah-loo,” he giggles again, more than thrilled to see his mother watching him over Loki’s shoulder at this hour. “Ah-loo.”

Loki’s lips settle into the gentlest smile, gazing down at his son, and he leans his head against yours.

“Well, it’s not dad or ma,” he says and you know he’s still thrilled, “but I’ll take it. Whatever he means by ‘ah-loo.’”

The sound leaves Loki’s mouth and is immediately followed by another little gurgle from Elliot, and the two of them go back and forth a few times, ah-loo-ing each other until you can’t take the cuteness anymore and steal a thorough kiss from each of them.

“I’m so glad we didn’t miss this,” you sigh, following suit as Loki lowers himself back onto the kitchen floor, still crooning over your baby.

“Me either.” Loki sounds starstruck, red eyes glittering and blue skin absolutely freezing when you snuggle up against his chest so you can stare at Elliot, too. “Ah-loo, hm? What is that supposed to mean?”

Tiny hands reach for the both of you and he gives a happy little squeal. “Ah-loo.”

“Maybe he’s saying hello,” you whisper and run a hand over Loki’s chest. “Maybe he’s already developing your accent and says hello like an old British man.”

“An old British man,” he repeats with a frown. “And here I thought you liked my voice.”

Not liking that frown one bit, you dig your fingers into the soft bare skin of his side and Loki squirms, biting back a shout of laughter.

“I love you,” you huff and tickle him once more for good measure, “and every little thing about you. Especially your voice.”

Loki laughs, bops a finger gently on Elliot’s tiny nose, and turns to press a kiss to your forehead. “I love you, too.”

Little chubby arms reach for you again. “Ah-loo!”

The three of you huddle there on the kitchen floor until you get too cold against Loki’s icy skin and convince him to come back to bed—bringing Elliot with you, of course.

Loki eventually shifts back to aesir form and you gratefully cuddle up to his chest, right next to your little son, who has finally stopped squirming and seems to be settling down on Loki’s chest as well for the last few hours of sleep.

“I love you,” Loki murmurs, one hand on Elliot’s back as the other gently traces down your cheek.

You mumble it back and grab his chin to steal a kiss, and Elliot gurgles one last “ah-loo” into Loki’s chest.

You’ve barely started to consider it a kiss when your eyes fly open in shock.

“Ah-loo,” you gasp and break away from Loki with a smack. “I love you.”

“I love you, too?”

“No,” you laugh, and Elliot opens his eyes once more to beam up at you. “He’s saying I love you, Loki.”

Loki falls silent and you think that may have broken him, but then he wraps his arms around the baby and hugs him as tight as he possibly can without hurting the little guy.

“I love you,” he says again, this time hesitating, curious if that’s really it—

“Ah-loo!”

That’s better than any variation of “ma” or “da” that you and Loki could’ve hoped for.

―   ―   ―   ―

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424@fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas

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@doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15

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@highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo @tonakings @shinisenko @tinchentitri @nildespirandum @thefallenbibliophilequote @vodka-and-some-sass @highfunctioningfangirl19 @sadwaywardkid @lokioneshot @brooksaza @wild-honey-piy @ellaenchanted91 @watermelon-lights19 @just-another-romantic @skinny-macncheese @lokisironthrone @rorybutnotgilmore

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@toozmanykids

#loki x reader #dad!loki #loki imagine #loki reader insert #loki fluff #domestic loki #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #elliot lokason #loki’s happy ending

[gingerwritess]

Do you have any hcs about the first time Loki gets into a fight with Elliot and/or Frigg? Because let's face it, no matter how much parents and children might love each other, they're bound to have a serious fight at some point.

quarantine, please be good to us.

this includes mentions of bullying (jotun/colour related), lil bit of yummy angst all wrapped up in familial love and understanding

Elliot is a precious little thing.

Pure, innocent, unmolded clay. He looks like his father, talks like his father, has the brains of his father…and is starting to gain the height of his father, too.

Your little boy is growing up.

He came home with a cut on his cheek one day when he was around ten years old. “There was a snake at the park,” he explained as you held ice to the bump, watching your baby turn blue again as the coolness hits his skin.

“It bit your face?” You made a mental note to have a discussion with Loki about how friendly he is in regards to the rather dangerous creatures.

“Nah…” Elliot looked ashamed, you remember that clearly. “Some older kids were pokin’ it. Said they wanted to stab it and-and squish it’s guts out.”

He shuddered on the kitchen counter, feet dangling.

“The snake wasn’t hurtin’ anyone, and all I could think of was how much dad likes snakes, and I didn’t want to see them hurt it. I didn’t mean to start a fight, mom, I swear it was an accident–”

You hugged him tight, tucking his head under your chin. “I know you didn’t,” you assured him, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks, mom.” Patches of his blue skin had started to return to normal and he hopped off the counter, running off to his room before you could say another word.

You weren’t too worried when he began to come home with scraped up knees and blood running down from scrapes in his arm, because Elliot swore up and down that he had just fallen off his bike, run too fast and fell, tripped going down the porch steps…but by the fourth “clumsy” excuse you didn’t believe him and called in the professional.

“I think Elliot is lying to me.”

Loki just laughs, actually, not the response you were hoping for. “And you’re surprised, my love?”

“Well, he’s always been an honest kid!” You give his waist a squeeze. “But today he said he fell off the swingset, and I just…that doesn’t seem right.”

He’s silent as he thinks, holding your head closer against his chest.

“I’m just worried about him,” you whisper, reaching for the blanket. “I know you don’t like to get in his head, but…”

“I will,” Loki sighs, and he presses his lips to your forehead. “Just to see if he is telling the truth. Then as the biggest hypocrite of the milenia, I’ll tell him not to lie.”

“I love you, my god of lies.”

“…precisely.”

Sure enough, two days later your son sneaks through the back door with a swollen eye. He doesn’t make it far on tiptoe and whirls around when you clear your throat, clapping a hand over his eye with a guilty grin.

“H-hey mom…”

“What happened to your eye?” You tug his hand away, inspecting the puffy lid and cut through his eyebrow. “Tell me the truth.”

He pauses when you say that, mouth partially open as he struggles to decide what to say. “I fell off my bike again,” he answers firmly, but you can tell in his eyes he doesn’t mean it. “I was riding near a—”

His face twists and the kid recoils, some unseen force making him shrivel up and he clutches his ears, shaking his head as his back slams into the wall.

A coldness settles in the air when Loki stands up from the table, walking over to his son and crossing his arms. “That’s a lie, Elliot.”

“No, you promised, dad,” your son pleads, grabbing Loki’s arm. “You promised to stay out of my head, you promised not to read my—”

“—and you promised to tell the truth.” Loki’s voice is gentle but stern, icy and you almost feel bad for Elliot having to be on the receiving end of this scolding. “You promised me I wouldn’t have to.”

Tears are already welling in the boy’s eyes, and he sinks to the floor before the two of you, shoulders trembling.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he sobs, hiding his face in his hands, and you notice his fingertips starting to turn blue. “I didn’t want to lie but they know, dad, they know about me ‘n you and-and today they called mom a really bad word and I told them to stop—

Not expecting that, Loki quickly crouches next to his son, a hand on his shoulder. “Easy, Elliot, it’s alright…we’ll listen to you, of course. Come here.”

He catches your eye, wide and worried; you know Elliot can be a bit…sensitive, but that was enough of a reaction to shake you to your core.

What in the world?

The two of you lead him to the couch, and he angrily swipes at his eyes and tries to pull himself together.

“There’s…there’s these kids,” he sniffs, not looking either of you in the eye. “They’re huge, dad, huge and beefy and-and muscles like Thor’s, really, and they always yell at me when I’m outside and—”

Your heart sinks.

“It’s alright,” Loki promises, pulling Elliot under his arm. “Just breathe, you’re alright. Do you have any idea why they are picking on you?”

The kid sniffs again, dropping his head to his hands. “They say I’m tiny. Call me wimpy. Guess…guess that makes me an easy t-target.”

“Elliot…” you run a hand through his curls, scooting closer and hugging him too. “That doesn’t matter, they can’t—”

“But I am!” He lifts his head and his eyes burn red. “I’m tiny, mom, I’m a runt and I’m little and I’ve got no muscle and one day I’m gonna-gonna snap like a twig.”

“Did those other kids tell you that?”

He nods, wiping his nose. “They know I’m blue, too, they like to sneak up ‘n drop ice cubes down the back of my shirt just to make me…make me…y’know.”

His voice cracks and dissolves into silent sobs.

“Oh, Elliot.” Heart aching, you pull him into your arms.

“That shouldn’t matter,” Loki gently tells him, holding out an open hand to his son that’s turning blue as well. “Yes, we’re different, Elliot, but that doesn’t make us any less worthy of—”

“I hate it.”

Loki’s blue hand drops to his thigh, empty.

“Elliot,” you quickly cut in, “don’t say anything you’ll regret.”

“Why not? It’s true,” he spits, hands furiously shaking and, much to everyone’s chagrin, slowly splotching with blue. “I’m a monster, I’m a mutant and I hate it.”

“We aren’t anything more than a different colour, that doesn’t—”

“Stop saying we, dad!” Elliot shoots to his feet, a finger in Loki’s face. “It was ‘we’ when I was a baby, and you could just–just show me off, but this isn’t we. This is me, and people hurting me, and I’m too freaking weak to even learn how to fight back, and–and I didn’t ask for this.”

“None of us did, Elliot.”

“No,” your son chokes, “you did ask for this. You asked for a kid, and well, you got me. This is it. Me, the animal, the runt, your mutant blue baby who can’t find an ounce of control over anything in his life, but it’s okay, it’s cute.”

“Elliot…”

He shakes his head, eyes clenched shut to fight back the tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, then turns and runs to his room, slamming the door behind him.

The silence in the room sits heavy.

“Loki?”

You break it with a gentle question, turning to your husband to find tears silently streaking his face.

“Oh, my love, my Loki.”

You pull him into an embrace, one he doesn’t return, slowly pushing you away to look at you.

“I knew he was a mistake,” he quietly confesses. “We shouldn’t have had children.”

“Don’t you dare say that.”

“But look what I’ve done to him—”

“Shut up.”

You stand abruptly, holding out a firm hand to pull Loki to his feet with you. “We’re going to go talk to him,” you decide, “until he can see how much he’s loved.”

Not giving your husband a moment to respond, you pull him along behind you straight to Elliot’s room.

Elliot is still crying, crying quietly into his pillow with the rest of his body curled as tightly as possible, leaving you and Loki plenty of space to lay on either side of him and curl just as tightly around him.

The contact does seem to help, you note, and he takes a great shuddering breath when you smooth a hand through his curls.

“My sweet boy,” you murmur, and press a kiss to his temple. “Don’t let the light inside you die.”

“I don’t think–I don’t think there’s any light in me,” he thickly replies between sniffles.

“That’s bullshit.”

A wet, teary laugh leaves his lips for a split second.

“I’m serious,” you smile, “that’s complete bullshit, and your father will one hundred percent back me up on that.”

Loki nods and takes Elliot’s hand. “It’s bullshit.”

“You are…a beacon of light,” you promise him, holding him tighter. “I’ve never known someone with as pure a heart as yours, and to see these bullies trying to rip it from you breaks my heart.”

Loki lays down beside his son, turning to face him and bring his hand to his heart. “And you are right. We asked for you and we were gifted with you, our beautiful, sweet, incredible child, so please don’t push us away.”

Elliot sniffs, blinking away tears as you smooth a hand over his hair, and Loki presses his forehead to his son’s.

“Please let us help you.”

More sniffles, his thin body trembling, and your son slowly nods.

“I need to learn to control it,” he mutters, eyes squeezed shut. “I have no power over myself.”

Loki nods, giving his delicate hands a squeeze. “I’ll double my efforts. We can figure this out, alright?”

Another tiny nod.

Sandwiched between the two of you, Elliot sneaks an arm around Loki’s chest, hugging him close against him while his other arm holds tightly to yours, the one around him.

“Don’t let go,” he whispers. “Please.”

―   ―   ―   ―

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#loki x reader #dad!loki #loki imagine #loki fanfiction #loki reader insert #domestic loki #loki angst #loki fluff #loki laufeyson #loki requests #elliot lokason

[gingerwritess]

It’s my birthday tomorrow!!! Can I get some wholesome Loki birthday content? 🥺 ilysm

sorry i missed it hon, happiest of birthdays to you and all the birthdays i’ve missed!! hopefully this makes up for it!

read on to get a little drunk with Loki on cheap champagne (this is the fluffiest thing i’ve ever written oh lord it’s my new favourite)

For the past couple weeks, Loki’s been plotting.

You’d say planning, but that’s not quite what’s been going on. He’s…plotting. Setting an elaborate plot, not just making plans, thinking he’s being slick about it.

Not quite.

The fifth mistake was his random “let’s play would you rather” attempt around the dinner table.

Starting subtly with “would you rather drive or fly somewhere?”

You’d opened your mouth to answer, but Elliot cut you off.

“I’m learning how t’ fly. Mr. Wilson’s teachin’ me.”

…which only caused immediate chaos in the Loka household, resulting in a few panicked calls to Sam wondering how in fresh hell he thought putting your six year old in a flying robot-bird-suit was a good idea.

Apparently it was only once, and Bucky was on the ground watching, and Elliot wasn’t wearing the suit, I was carrying him—‘cause that’s so much better.

So on the evening of the day before your birthday, when Loki insisted on starting the celebration, you didn’t call Sam or Bucky. You called Peter.

Why is trusting a seventeen year old kid with your children easier than trusting two grown adults? THOSE grown adults??

He’s a good kid, and actually had been Loki’s first choice of a babysitter. He arrives right on time, ever the politest, and immediately gets dragged off by an excited Elliot to go play Legos.

“Feel free to leave!” He yells from Elliot’s room, “I’ve got them under control!”

“I’m unassured,” Loki announces.

You have to agree.

After showing Peter where to find dinner, Frigg’s favourite blanket, extra diapers just in case, the fire extinguisher, and the other basic items needed for Loka-home survival, you both kiss your kiddos goodbye with a stern “be good.”

Loki lays your coat over your shoulders and offers you his arm.

“We’d better be off, and I’m driving. No arguments.”

“Goodbye forever,” you sigh to your children.

—

Loki’s evil scheme turns out to be…not so evil.

He did drive, rather well, actually, and simply booked a reservation for two in a chic, modern restaurant overlooking the city.

“Surprise,” he smiles, offering his arm once again when you step out of the car.

You take it, albeit suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

“Elliot made me promise not to keep you to myself on your birthday,” he explains with a laugh. “So tonight is just for us. No obligations, no diapers, and absolutely no stress.”

Right there in the middle of the parking lot, you wind your arms around his neck and pull him close, pressing your lips to his.

“Thank you.”

“Happy birthday,” he murmurs, grinning against your lips. “I adore you.”

There’s a skip in his step when you head off towards the city walk, hands intertwined and swinging mindlessly between the two of you.

A dream of golden darkness, night has fallen beautifully over the city, bringing an unexpected rain along with it as people hurry by, window shop, stroll aimlessly.

“Ah, your first gift,” Loki remarks when you step out from under the parking structure, lifting his face to the rain. “A kiss in the rain. Redeemable whenever you see fit.”

“Please tell me you didn’t put Thor up to this,” you giggle, grabbing the umbrella from his coat pocket. Opening it with a quick shake, you give Loki’s hand a tug and pull him under it. “Bribe him for rain tonight or anything.”

“Mhm.” A soft smile tugs at his rain-speckled lips. “I use my brother to seduce my wife, of course.”

“Is that what’s happening?”

“Maybe,” he purrs, arms slipping around your waist to pull you against him. “I’d say it’s working, wouldn’t you?”

You just hum contentedly and let him sweep you off into this rainy, city-lit dream, complete with a kiss in the rain that leaves you breathless, the umbrella slipping from your grip.

“We really should be going now,” he whispers when the kiss morphs into an embrace, catching the umbrella and moving it back over the two of you. “Don’t want to miss our reservation.”

“To hell with the reservation—”

“No,” Loki laughs and pushes you gently away. “I did something relatively normal and exceptionally midgardian, so we’re following through with it, no questions asked.”

You huff and complain the whole way, grabbing Loki a few times in the middle of crosswalks to steal a smooch—not that he argues against it, at all—but eventually, Loki comes to a stop in front of the restaurant and pries his hand from yours.

“Remember,” he hums as he opens the door for you, “we’re perfectly average humans.”

“Gotcha. You definitely aren’t a wizard.”

“Exactly.”

Loki’s apparently in the mood to impress you tonight, judging from the beautiful restaurant and the prices on the menu. There’s a tiny hint of smugness to his smile as he helps you out of your coat and pulls your chair out for you before sitting down himself, so once he’s seated across from you, you quirk a suspicious eyebrow.

“So. What movies have you been watching, dear?”

He quirks an eyebrow right back.

“The same as you, my love, why do you ask?”

“You’re being weird.” You prop the menu up in front of your face, just to send him pointed glares right over the top.

“I am attempting to be romantic,” he replies, mirroring your actions with his own. “Now shush and let me spoil you.”

You give an indignant scoff, but go back to browsing the menu, pretending not to notice how Loki’s locked his ankle with yours.

That may be the worst conflict he’s had to face yet - whether to sit next to you and be within touching distance, or across from you to more easily speak with and gaze at you.

He’s left one hand empty, resting on the table as he scans the menu, so you take it and lean over to press a quick kiss to his knuckles.

“Heh—no, I’m supposed t—y-you don’t—”

“Shush, Loki.” Behind your menu you smile, overly pleased at his instant fluster. “Let me spoil you.”

After composing himself slightly—though not letting go of your hand—he flags down your server and asks for the “most expensive, hardest to acquire bottle of wine in your stock.”

The server, some twenty year old named Matt, looked slightly confused, but brought it nonetheless.

Loki, ever the showoff, pours it with a flick of his fingers all the while mouthing something close to you are so beautiful across the table. You don’t last long; crumbling into a fit of laughter, you shove his hand away and bury your face in your hands.

“You’re so weird,” you laugh, shaking your head. “What is your deal tonight??”

“Look, it’s been a while since we’ve gotten to go out.” He shrugs, a grin on his lips at the sight of yours. “I’m just trying to take every advantage of tonight! Just drink your wine and let me spoil you, norns.”

“I thought you wanted to be average tonight,” you snort and lift your wine glass. “But okay, fine. To spoiling each other.”

“To spoiling you.”

“No, you.”

“Don’t start this,” he warns, clinks his glass against yours, and takes a sip with you.

The drink hits your tongues and for a split second you consider—only to spit the wine right back into your glasses.

“Oh, my god, that was disgusting,” you gag, trying not to laugh when Loki takes the napkin straight to his tongue.

“I don’ think ‘at kid was e’en old ‘nuff t’ drink,” Loki responds ever so eloquently.

When Matt come back around, Loki spits out the napkin and orders the exact opposite of this bottle: “your cheapest, please.”

It’s a simple champagne in a golden bottle, and this one Loki pours by hand.

“Take two.”

Another clink, another testing taste—

“Oh, yeah. Much better.”

By the time you’re done with the bottle, it tastes expensive.

Ever since Frigg was born, it doesn’t take so much to get Loki tipsy—no more immediate need for some special “Asgardian” liquor, because with the general sleep deprivation and slow deterioration of hyper-masculine Asgardian “tolerance” levels, he’s been slowly relaxing.

You can’t complain. Luckily, alcohol only adds to Loki’s charm, turning him into a giggly, affectionate, ridiculously touch starved poet who doesn’t give a single crap about opinions on pda.

Judging from the flush of his cheeks and how he’s stroking your calf with his ankle, he’s teetering off the tipsy edge by the bottom of the bottle.

“You,” he announces, and points his fork at you, “are my lover.”

“Mmmhm.” The pride shines clear on your face, and you don’t mind him seeing.

“That’s so…so fantastic. You are the one who loves me. And I am the one who loves you.”

“Life is so cool.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Loki grins. He takes a bite of his dinner and washes it down with another sip.

And there in that much-too-posh restaurant, soaking in a bubble bath of golden champagne, you absolutely cannot die, it’s simply incomprehensible, so you lean in with a grin of your own and theatrically whisper one of his favourite words.

“Never.”

The wink you slap on the end of your promise seems to send Loki’s thoughts spiralling into elsewhere, and you go back to your dinner with a flustered little smirk.

Loki doesn’t hesitate to order dessert, waving off your tipsy concerns about how expensive the first three courses were, and when the pièce de résistance arrives in all it’s nine layer, dark chocolate, gold flakes and vanilla gelato glory, your protests drown in the second champagne bottle.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Loki tuts when you reach for it, and he holds up his own fork, visibly fighting back a laugh. “You are my birthday girl. This–this has to be something romantic.”

“But I wanna eat it all. Romantically.”

He plucks up a beautiful, decadent bite and lifts it to your lips, his chin resting on his hand as he watches you lean over to take the bite off his fork.

Even with your lamely “seductive” attempts to lick your lips, Loki promptly bursts out laughing.

“What??” You cry, grabbing a napkin and furiously searching your mouth for any messes. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you, darling,” he snorts and lifts his fork to show you. “I can’t–I can’t feed you anymore, I can’t—”

He can’t breathe, he’s laughing so hard, forehead on the table and shoulders shaking as you watch on in confusion.

“I’m kinda offended, baby.” You reach over and take your own slightly angry bite of dessert. Maybe it wasn’t the prettiest bite you’ve ever taken, but hell, it’s your birthday and you’re drunk.

“All I see is our kids,” Loki wheezes, nearly crying with laughter. “We’ve fed them both, so–so now I just—heheh—all I can see is feeding you—”

Then he breaks off into incoherent snorts, and you manage to piece it together.

The image of little Frigg, onesie-clad and head lolling back onto her high chair with her mouth consistently open and ready for food to fall into it, flashes through your mind.

She makes these little open-mouthed grunts if she doesn’t get food upon request, head still thrown back and mouth still wide open, like a tiny baby raven freshly hatched and begging it’s mother for a meal. With that striking image of your daughter in mind, you consider what you must have looked like just then, across the table, and burst out laughing, too.

The two of you give it a couple more tries, switching off with who’s feeding who, but when you decide to bounce the forkful of chocolate heaven towards Loki’s mouth with a giggly “here comes the train—choo choo!” Loki wheezes so hard he falls out of his chair, and you collapse onto your silverware, weeping with laughter.

Matt calls you a cab.

The driver is a wiry little man with a tough face and a shiny bald spot, and brilliant blue eyes. Todd, Loki deduces as he climbs in after you. He refrains from commenting on the bald spot, but norns, it shines like a diamond.

“Todd?” Loki asks after a moment of sitting primly in your seats, heads held high and hands folded in your laps.

The epitome of “too much to drink,” but to the two of you, right now, you could pass as perfect royalty.

“Yup.”

“If I were to double the price of this trip, would you mind if I kissed my wife?”

Todd ponders the request for half a second.

“It’s her birthday,” Loki helpfully adds.

And shoots you a ridiculous wink that seems ridiculously attractive, at the moment.

“Meh, what the hell.” Todd shrugs. “But clothes stay on.”

Loki salutes and is on you in an instant, and the rest of the trip is a complete blur of giggles and shushing and sloppy kisses with no seatbelts until Loki rips himself from your grip to gasp “here!” to Todd.

You blindly follow him out of the car, still ridden with giggles and not at all minding the view you get when Loki climbs out of the cab, only to find yourself standing on the sidewalk of an empty street, glowing under a streetlight in the leftover drizzles from earlier’s rain.

He pays Todd with a wad of cash that’s most definitely more than double the charge, but Loki thanks him profusely for the ride and the backseat and insists he keep it.

When the cab drives off, Loki jumps in a puddle, sighs, and walks over to wrap an arm around your shoulders, pressing his lips to your temple.

“We need to walk it off,” he says, and you agree. You’re only a few streets away from home, so you don’t bother with the umbrella.

The fresh air does wonders as you and Loki amble towards home, arm in arm and leaning on each other, the occasional leftover giggle escaping.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

You miss a step and glance over to him to find him already staring, a soft smile on his lips.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you wind your arms about his neck. “Thank you for everything, Loki.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you.” You emphasise it with a kiss.

He returns it, not the most precise but still laced with effort, and it’s so gentle and warmly caressing that you know in the end, he still got the last word.

“Love you,” he mumbles, and you mumble it back, leaning into him with a tight hold of his arm to land another kiss on his neck as you turn onto your street.

Loki laughs and kisses you right back, ducking under your ear and pressing his lips to your pulse point before you can squirm away. Your hands find his shoulders and you shove him with a giggle, only encouraging him to pounce again and hold you tighter.

“Okay,” you gasp through giggles, “okay, stop it, stop, we’re home!”

He resurfaces with a grin and straightens your shirt for you. “To be continued.”

With a roll of your eyes you grab his hand and drag him to the door. “Remember. Sober and mature. We’re adults with kids.”

A solemn nod.

Then he bangs the door open and sings “we’re hoooome!” before you can say or do anything.

Peter looks blankly up at you from the kitchen table.

“Oh.” The two of you push through the doorway, fighting back more laughter. “Sorry, Peter. We’re home.”

“Hey, welcome back.” He stands with a grin and Loki sticks out his hand for a shake—which Peter gives, a little confused. “Everything was great here, just perfect, they’re great kids.”

“I know,” Loki sighs, still shaking Peter’s hand, “I made them.”

“We,” you correct.

“Right, right, couldn’t have done it without her.”

“Okay…cool.” Peter pries his hand from Loki’s grip with an awkward chuckle. “Anyways. I gotta go, um, just…just one little hiccup we had…”

“Did Elliot set something on fire again?” You groan, fishing around in your purse for your wallet to pay the kid. “Damn it, I told Loki he was still too young—”

“No, nothing caught on fire!”

Loki bumps you with his hip and holds up another wad of cash—I’ve got it.

“He was really hyper,” Peter explains, pretending not to notice Loki leafing through what’s got to be the biggest wad of cash he’s ever seen. “We went outside and ran around and everything, but nothing could get him to stay still, so uh…Mr. Loki, is it legal to take money you conjured?”

“Perfectly,” Loki assures him, pressing the money into the kid’s hand. “I worked for most of it.”

“O-okay…”

“It’s all real,” you promise him with a laugh. “Really. It’s not illegal. How’d you get Elliot in bed then?”

“Right, I might have kind of sort of had to…” he scratches his neck, laughs. “Um, well, I maybe had to usemywebtostickhimtothewall.”

Loki just nods understandingly and pats Peter on the shoulder. “Wonderful. As long as he’s asleep.”

You can’t bring yourself to mind too much, either. It’s certainly not the strangest thing that’s happened in this household.

After assuring Peter that you’re not at all upset that he webbed your son to a wall, Loki sees him to the door and waves goodbye after another very formal handshake, then he turns back around and lets out a giant breath of relief.

“I think I covered that perfectly. He had no idea.”

“Definitely.” You give him two thumbs up. “Wanna go see if Elliot’s really on the wall?”

A grin splits over Loki’s face, and he dashes down the hall to Elliot’s room with you hot on his heels.

“Unreal,” he whispers when he peeks his head inside, “he’s dead asleep. He looks comfortable.”

You stick your head through the doorway and have to pull back immediately, letting out a loud snort of laughter at the sight of your little son, spread eagle against the far wall and snoring lightly with his Iron Man plushie clutched in one hand, webbed and weirdly comfortable.

“There’s no way he’s—”

Loki claps both hands over your mouth with a very loud “shhhhhhhh!” before slumping against the wall with his own silent fit of giggles.

“Shuddup.” You lick his palm and he laughs harder.

Seconds later you’ve tackled him to the ground to smush your hands to his mouth, the two of you giggling and screeching and shushing and slowly forgetting your two kids are sleeping behind these doors.

He finally catches your wrists and holds them tight, keeping you above him as you catch your breath, still grinning and breathlessly laughing.

“Do you want your present now, my love?”

“Loki,” you gasp, pretending to be scandalised, “in the hallway? You dirty boy—”

“It’s an actual gift,” he groans, head falling to the floor with a thud. “Sometimes you’re worse than I am.”

“Yup.” You settle onto his hips and smile down at him. “I’ll take the present now.”

“You don’t want to move somewhere more comfortable?”

You wiggle a bit; he grunts and lifts an eyebrow.

“Nope, this is pretty comfy.”

“Careful.”

Resigning himself to your hallway-lap-straddle, he sighs and pulls a package wrapped in brown paper out of thin air. “For my birthday girl. Our birthday girl.”

You eagerly rip through the paper, and a thick leather-bound book falls onto Loki’s stomach.

“Ooh…”

Running your hands over the smooth cover, the stamped gold embellishments, you catch Loki’s eye.

“I’m writing you a book,” he explains.

“What’s it about?”

“You.”

He pushes himself up to lean back on his hands, guiding you to open the book and flip through it. Sure enough, it’s handwritten, about half of the book already filled with Loki’s beautiful script, a couple sketches, some pressed flowers, loose papers���

“It’ll never run out of pages.” He points to the spine, the thickness. “I used the entire book just trying to capture the kind of person you are and the beginnings of how we met, so I charmed it to always carry enough blank pages for our story.”

“Sheesh, that’s a lot of writing.”

“And there still aren’t enough words in the universe to describe you.”

You scoff, but Loki shushes you with a finger to your lips.

“It’s a constant work in progress, and one with an conclusion I never want to reach. But, I can assure you that it will have a happy ending, when it arrives.”

“Loki. Thank you.”

He looks up at you with those big puppy dog eyes and smiles, dimpled and ageless, and you lean forward and kiss him.

—

Midnight passes and it’s your birthday, officially, as you and Loki eat some bread and drink some water, sitting on the kitchen counters quietly laughing and teasing and reminiscing—among other things—until you’re exhausted and heading back towards sober.

The two of you carefully cut Elliot off of the wall and carry him to bed, slowly realising that Peter actually webbed your child to a wall and that maybe you should bring that up again with him tomorrow. Elliot clings to you for a minute when you try to lower him into bed, whispers “bappy hirthday, momma,” tries to kiss you on the cheek, and falls back to sleep.

Frigg, when you check on her a room over, is a little sack of cotton footsie pjs and dark hair, mouth wide open blowing spit bubbles as she sprawls across the mattress of her crib.

“I love her,” Loki croons, kissing the tips of his fingers and brushing them over Frigg’s round little cheek. “She sleeps like you.”

Your elbow finds it’s way nicely under his ribs and he hisses.

In bed, you’re snug under Loki’s arm smushing your cheek to his chest, ankles entwining. He’s tired, but still awake, so you reach over and grab your new book, setting it on his chest.

“Read to me?”

His drowsy chuckle rumbles under your ear and he takes the book, thumbing past the in-depth love letter/birthday dedication you already cried over twice.

“On this day, some years ago,” he begins, yawns, and scoots you closer into his arms, “you were born. You came into this world and I like to believe you cried a beautiful song, unlike our own screeching children (spoiler alert, I am so sorry). At this time, I was, of course, well into my adulthood, just waiting for the day you would try to kill me. Not to make this weird.”

“Brilliant.” You lean up and plant a sweet kiss on his jaw.

“Darling, you’re making me blush.”

“Shh, I know. Keep reading.”

“Luckily, this is not my story, and my wife has a thing for older men.”

You poke him in the gut.

He laughs and steals a proper kiss.

The two of you huddle even closer, trying to press yourselves into one, and Loki reads you the beginnings of your happy ending until neither of you can keep your eyes open.

You fall asleep in a tangled mess of searching limbs, Loki’s book lying open over his heart to save your spot.

―   ―   ―   ―

fuel the writer?

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424@fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas

~ breaking up the taglist to fix the scrolling problem! ~

@doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15

~ scroll here ~

@mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys

~ scroll here ~

@highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo @tonakings @shinisenko @tinchentitri @nildespirandum @thefallenbibliophilequote @vodka-and-some-sass @highfunctioningfangirl19 @sadwaywardkid @lokioneshot @brooksaza @wild-honey-piy @ellaenchanted91 @watermelon-lights19 @just-another-romantic @skinny-macncheese @lokisironthrone @rorybutnotgilmore

~ scroll here ~

@toozmanykids 

#loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki imagine #dad!loki #domestic!loki #loki requests #loki fluff #loki laufeyson #loki series #elliot lokason #frigg lokadóttir

[gingerwritess]

HIIIII!!!!! After reading where Loki sings and then with Baby No. 2 on the way 😍😍😍😍😍 can I request a drabble or something where Loki and the pregnant reader are lying in bed and Loki is singing to the unborn baby? Love you! Keep up the awesome work!!!

this was supposed to be 200 words. well over 1000 words later, have a drabble:

inspired by some requests for “your bed after travelling” from the sensory prompts list! psiwrotethesonglokisingsihopeyoulikeitikindado

— — — —

The blister on your heel has to be bleeding by now.

Your back, too, screams for relief—carrying the extra weight of a half-frost giant baby pulls at your bones, joints, muscles.

You try not to let it show, but the last flight of stairs to the street brings a pained whimper from your throat.

Loki pulls you into his arms before you even have to ask.

The trip was a nice distraction for a little bit, but with Loki off most of the day busy with meetings and negotiations, you’d been left trying to vacation with a hyper five year old and a very, very pregnant body that didn’t quite want to leave the pantry.

Watermelon, this time. And this damn hotel in the middle of this godforsaken metropolis only gave you instructions to the nearest grocery store.

Loki would simply pull a freshly cut watermelon out of thin air for you. Loki would go and get you anything you could ever wish for, draw you a bath, rub your back, and read Elliot a book to give you some peace and quiet.

Loki carries you to the cab—per your own request, since teleportation does nothing to help morning sickness—and he holds you close the whole drive home. One arm tucks you snug into his side while the other tries to keep Elliot in his seat, who’s far too excited at the prospect of not having to be in a booster seat for this car ride.

“Are we there yet?”

“We’ve been driving for four minutes, Elliot. Please.”

What feels like an eternity passes, and this time you have to ask.

“Are we there now?”

“Not you, too,” Loki groans, his head lolling back onto the headrest. “See, if I could just move us—”

“Nonono, don’t turn this on me!”

“I’m not turning this—”

“I GOTTA PEE!”

It takes a few more stops and a couple more minutes than planned, but before long you find yourself home, head throbbing and knees stiff and ankles screaming bloody murder.

Facing another flight of stairs.

(Only four, but who’s counting.)

Elliot joins you in your breakdown this time.

“Come here,” Loki sighs, sending the suitcases to inside with a flick of his fingers. He tucks an arm under your knees and one around your back, lifting you from the ground before you can blink the tears from your eyes.

“My hero,” you sniff, and throw your arms around his neck.

This baby will be a drama queen, you just know.

Before Loki can carry you inside, Elliot hauls himself off the ground with a sniffle, his little plush hedgehog tucked snugly under one arm.

“Me, too, daddy. Please?”

He lifts his arms—and hedgehog—up to reach for you.

Big green eyes blinking up at him, Loki can’t bring the word “no” to the tip of his tongue.

Instead he finds himself sighing, kneeling down with a tight hold on you to let Elliot clamber onto his back.

“Forgot how to walk, hm?” He asks his son with a smile, carefully climbing those unbearable four steps and letting Elliot back down.

The little boy shakes his head. “It’s called simple-thee pain. If momma hurts, we all hurt.”

“…right.”

You muffle your laughter in Loki’s shoulder.

“Go unpack your bags,” Loki tells him, nudging him towards his bedroom. “We’ll all hurt together in a minute.”

Elliot runs off to his room, leaving Loki to carry you to your own room; he steals a quick kiss before setting you softly on the bedspread.

The moment you touch down on that mattress, a blissful sigh leaves your lips.

Good kiss. Nice call.

Loki gives himself a mental pat on the back.

“Loki. Unpack later, c’mere.”

He looks up from the suitcase to find you sprawled, a hand draped over your giant belly. Toes scrabble against your heels as you try to kick your shoes off, flinging them across the room when you do.

“Comfortable?”

“Euphoric,” you groan, and give your ankles a few relieving circles.

“Here.” A soft smile on his lips, he lays a hand on your bump of a stomach, seamlessly changing you into your sweats.

You nearly curse aloud, grabbing your pillow and smushing it to your face.

“You spoil me.”

Loki just breathes a laugh, settles onto the foot of the mattress, and sets to work loosening up the tense muscles of your legs.

“My favourite pastime,” he murmurs, fingers working magic while you breathe in your home.

Loki. Elliot. You. The sheets are softer than you remember, and you’d give anything to be able to roll onto your stomach and bury your face in your pillow until you drift off.

But with this beach ball of a stomach, you settle for sprawling on your back, sinking into the mattress until it remembers your shape and the cotton candy clouds you get to sleep on swallow you whole.

“I’m never leaving this bed ever again.”

Loki hums quietly, mildly amused.

“Cuddle with me?” You ask, lifting your head to try and see him—only to be blocked by your belly.

“Of course.”

He takes a moment to change into something more comfortable—those softer-then-silk trousers are your favourite—and stretches out on the mattress beside you with a sigh.

There’s a pause—he shifts, searching for that perfect position—and groans in satisfaction.

Sinking into liquid gold.

“Nothing will ever understand me like my bed does,” he breathes, eyelids fluttering shut.

Long legs slip under the covers, sliding too smoothly against the perfectly cool sheets, and he lets out another sigh, warm and cool and safe and free by your side—

“Cuddle.”

You tap him on the chest, eyelids already drooping, breaking the enchantment long enough to bring you into this dream.

“Oh, absolutely.”

He scoots closer to your side, wrapping his arms around you to rest one on your belly, his head nestled into the curve of your neck.

A moment passes in perfect silence, his thumb brushing over the curve of your stomach every few seconds.

“Could you sing for us?” You whisper, breaking through the quiet. “Last time you did, she kicked.”

Half a grin tugs at the corner of Loki’s mouth. “Of course. Anything in particular?”

“Something…you.”

“Great. Okay.”

It’s quiet for a moment longer while he thinks.

Then…

“Round the borders and under the bridge, the frost-king tries to flee…around the throne he runs and hides, only stopped by a winter breeze.”

Entranced, you listen, his voice clear and crisp and quiet in your little bedroom as it dips and soars.

“‘I see you,’ said the breeze, so the frost king had to freeze. From his hand the ice broke the throne and the frost-king tries to flee. Round the forests he runs, only stopped by a winter breeze.”

There’s the kick.

Loki’s voice clips at the tiny movement, but he sings quietly on, trying to coax another from the unborn baby.

“‘What have you to fear?’ Asked the breeze, for the frost-king trembled with the leaves.” He sings softly, hand flat next to yours waiting for the little fist or foot to hit. “‘Only I, only I,’ he cried wistfully. Oh, the breeze followed when he ran, angered by his bitter flight.”

Loki’s voice slows, and you run your fingers through his hair, unable to break the spell he’s cast across the room.

He takes a slow breath, lays his head on your stomach.

“For what is a breeze but a storm-king, whose mother wrapped him tight for the night.”

Huddled in the doorway, Elliot listens.

The baby kicks again and you both share a quiet laugh; at that, Elliot runs into the room, wriggling his way between the two of you.

“I wanna say hi,” he whispers, laying his little hand next to Loki’s. “Can I cuddle with you, too?”

The baby kicks right away, bringing a giggle to Elliot’s lips. “Hi, baby.”

Loki wraps him tight in a hug, scooting closer to your side so the three of you can huddle together, warm and cold all at once and really, really happy to be home.

“I missed this bed,” your little boy sighs happily, nuzzling into your embrace.

“What about your bed, little giant?”

“Meh. It’s alright. Yours just…ahh…it soothes my soul.”

You snort and Loki bites back a laugh, instead pressing a sweet kiss to the top of his head.

“Don’t let us interrupt.”

―   ―   ―   ―

fuel the writer?

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas 

~ lmk if breaking up the taglist helps with that scrolling problem! ~

@doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 

~ scroll here if necessary~

@mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys 

~ scroll here if necessary~

@highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo @tonakings @shinisenko @tinchentitri @nildespirandum @thefallenbibliophilequote @vodka-and-some-sass @highfunctioningfangirl19 @sadwaywardkid @lokioneshot @brooksaza @wild-honey-piy @ellaenchanted91 @watermelon-lights19 @just-another-romantic @skinny-macncheese @lokisironthrone @rorybutnotgilmore

#loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki imagine #loki requests #dad!loki #loki x pregnant!reader #domestic!loki #loki x reader fluff #loki laufeyson #loki series #elliot lokason

[gingerwritess]

“I already have no pants on-“ “NO!” 😂😂😂

you asked for it @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @iamverity @skydiving-without-a-parachute

domestic dad loki topped with a dollop of fluffy breeding kink yeah that’s a thing

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Two kids.

You’ve changed all the diapers, fed them both, cleaned up after them, done your time.

Frigg is barely four and Loki already wants another.

“But a baby,” he pleads, striding along next to you, “both our children are growing older. I can’t carry Elliot anymore, Frigg…it’s just not the same, I want a baby.”

“You know that baby will just grow up again, right?”

“Yes.” Loki grins as you come to a halt in the laundry room, setting the hamper down with a huff.

“And what happens once that baby’s four?” You start sorting through the dirty clothes, pulling the remains of a chocolate bar out of a jeans pocket. “Oh, god, Elliot…chocolate melts…”

“Then we have another, of course.” Loki grabs another pair of jeans and starts checking the pockets as well. “Then that one grows up, and we have another, then that one grows, and we have another—”

“My uterus hurts just thinking about that.”

“But more babies, darling,” he sighs, tossing the pair of little jeans in the washer. “More little you and I’s, crawling around and—”

“And terrorising us,” you cut in, “wrecking this entire house and keeping us awake, keeping us from each other for months on end, then they grow up and we have to feed them and send them to school and raise them and we’ll never have a full night’s rest for the rest of our lives.”

You wait for Loki to sigh, realise how absurd his proposal is, but he just gives you a dreamy smile and throws another dirty sock in the washer.

“The more you speak,” he murmurs, leaning towards you, “the more I just want to impregnate you.”

Aha.

“Okay…so this is just your breeding kink talking?”

“I’ve told you, I don’t have a breeding kink,” he hums, kissing the tip of your nose and plucking the shirt out of your hands. “I just want to have an endless number of children with you, fill your belly with my seed time and time again, and raise children of our creation for years on end.”

“Right.” You jab an elbow into his side, dumping the rest of the clothes in the washer and hoisting the hamper back onto your hip. “Totally not a breeding kink.”

The next morning, Loki wakes you the way he does best.

You’re not complaining, you never could, but when he tries to convince you that “breakfast” is a perfectly viable excuse to be late to work, you shove him off the bed and all but hurl a pair of pants at him.

“Don’t get me pregnant,” you warn him as he laughs, pointing a finger in his face. “Don’t you dare, you have to keep saying that spell thing, okay? We are not in agreement about this ‘more babies’ issue, Loki, do not get me—”

“Shh…” he surges toward you, molding his lips to yours and chasing you back onto the pillows. “Don’t worry, you know I would never do that to you.”

Of course you know that.

“Just making sure,” you giggle, and you try to no avail to squirm out from under him.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun…” lips latching onto your neck, he growls playfully and rolls you on top of him, keeping you tight against him as you laugh and push him away.

With a tongue that, ah, skilled, you might’ve given in by the time he was done, but your bedroom door crashes open and your two lovely kids barge in, leaving you and Loki scrambling for the sheets.

“I didn’t do nothin’,” Frigg is yelling over and over, holding onto Elliot arm as he drags her behind him. “I didn’t do nothin’!!”

“Frigg froze the milk,” Elliot seethes, a little blue in the face. “I’m gonna be late for school if she doesn’t quit it—”

You kick Loki under the blanket. Your turn.

“Uhh…”

“Great parenting,” you groan, sitting up and keeping the sheet tight under your chin. “Frigg, unfreeze the milk, don’t do that to Elliot. Elliot, don’t drag your sister like that—”

“She won’t let go of me!” He shakes his arm to prove his point, and sure enough, Frigg refuses to let go and just giggles. “See? This is all her, I didn’t do this.”

“Elliot, she’s four,” Loki sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Just give her another cookie and tell her to read a book.”

“She can’t read yet, that doesn’t—”

“Shhhhh.” Loki yawns and flops back on his pillow, a cool hand stroking down your bare back. “It’ll work, trust me.”

A look of disbelief crosses his face, but Frigg yells “BOOK” and he trudges out of your room, slamming your door and dragging his little leech of a sister along behind him.

You roll on top of Loki before he can get another word out, pinning his arms by his head. “This is why we can’t have another kid. If you’d rather have another baby than spend our mornings like this, then fine, but really think about it.”

He closes his eyes, a stupid little smile on his stupid beautiful face, and runs his hands up and down your thighs. “I do like this,” he decides, “but…I still think we can manage both.”

With that, he flips you over and you let out a surprised yelp as he peppers your face with kisses.

“Your go-to method—mmph—” you try to push him away, but he just dives back for your lips with even more ferocity. “—can’t be t—Loki! God, calm down!”

“Sorry,” he laughs, chest heaving as he hovers over you. “What were you saying, my love?”

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, half-heartedly glaring up at him. “Your go-to method of parenting can’t be to just give them a cookie and shut them up.”

“And…why not?” He flicks his tongue over your pouting lips, much to your unamusement. “It seems to give us enough time to do this.”

“This,” you reach around him and smack his ass before shoving him off of you, “is not happening. We both have work.”

“But br—”

“DON’T SAY BREAKFAST.”

He follows you to the bathroom, trailing behind you like the little attention-starved puppy he is.

“I’m not saying that our lives would significantly improve if you were pregnant again,” he says, leaning against the counter and watching you start brushing your teeth, “but, consider if you were.”

“I’d ‘e puking err’where.”

“Not necessarily.”

“I’d ‘e ‘UGE.”

“No, you’d be pleasantly plump,” Loki chuckles, pinching your side and getting a fist to the groin in return. “Oof…hold on, you didn’t let me finish!”

Looking threatening with a mouthful of toothpaste is difficult, but you think you did alright.

“I’ve made it quite clear just how…appealing pregnancy looks on you, my love.”

“You kinky little shit.” You spit out your toothpaste and glare at him. “I’m not getting pregnant just ‘cause you’ve got a kink.”

“It’s not that!” He trails after you, following as you stalk to the closet and rifle around for some clothes. “I happen to enjoy raising children with you.”

“Oh, do you? I’m so glad! Put a shirt on.”

“Look,” Loki sighs, catching the shirt you threw at him and slipping it on. “Our children are my entire life. You know this. They’ve consumed me and I love it.”

“I know you love them.” You wrestle on your pants, hopping around until they’re pulled up to your waist properly. “And I love you, Loki, and I’d love to just pop out babies for us, but let’s be reasonable. We can’t…we can’t do that.”

“Did you know that I think of our children as living proof of your love?” Loki’s gaze drops to his fidgeting hands.

You pause, glancing at your husband. He’s gone silent, waiting for your response and probably wishing he hadn’t “admitted” to having emotions.

“You’re an idiot,” you sigh, shaking your head and walking over to him, laying your palms on each side of his face. “You really still need proof, Loki?”

His half-smile is sheepish, almost guilty. “I…well, sometimes I get scared.”

You thought there might be more to this.

“Talk to me, Loki.”

“I don’t—” he groans and rubs his eyes. “It’s complicated?”

“Hey.” Tugging him towards you, you softly press your lips to his, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. “We’re masters of complicated, remember?”

“Mmm.”

“Please talk to me.”

“Impossible when you kiss me like that,” he mumbles, eyes closed and forehead resting on yours.

“You’re trying to distract me and it’s never worked, snowflake.”

“Fine.” He breaks away and takes your hands in his, eyes downcast. “I’m a very…ah, insecure person.”

“Right.”

“And the fact that you were willing to have two children with me,” he presses your entwined hands to his chest, “not just one, but two…I just can’t fathom that it’s my true reality.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and pull him into a tight hug. “Keep going?”

“I don’t understand how you could claim to love me as much as you do,” he continues quietly, resting his head on yours as his arms wind around you. “I gave you two children that turn blue. Two monsters, really.”

“No,” you cut in, lightly slapping his back. “You were raised to hate yourself, Loki, to hate the species that was a true part of you. Don’t bring that into our family.”

“Sorry,” he whispers. “That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t think of them that way, but from a midgardian perspective, it’s…the truth.” He shakes his head at your confused face, drawing you closer into him. “Look, the point I’m trying to make is just that you shouldn’t love us, but you do, and the fact that you wanted to have a child with me felt, um, good.”

“Validating?”

“Very.” He presses his lips to your temple, closing his eyes tightly. “And the fact that you love our little blue babies just as much as I do feels even better.”

“So you want more kids? To capitalise on that validation of my love for you?”

“Yes…” he hugs you closer, burying his face in your neck to muffle his voice. “And I might have a little bit of a kink.”

You can’t help but laugh, running a hand through his hair as you hold him. “Okay, the kink I understand. But have I given you a reason to doubt my love for you?”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean!”

“Please tell me if I have,” you murmur. “I’m so sorry.”

“You haven’t,” he promises, cradling your face in his hands. “I’m just an insecure, paranoid, kinky little shit.”

You try for a cracked smile. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.” He kisses you, fingers smoothing over your jaw. “There’s no part of this that puts you at fault, my love. I house the problems for this family.”

“I love you,” you swear, kissing him again. “I really, really do. That’s why I’ve got two incredible, perfect blue kids with you, okay? Because I love you, Loki.”

He opens his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by a loud crash from the kitchen.

“Damn. This was a nice little moment, wasn’t it?”

“Quick,” you whisper, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking him towards you. “Kiss me with your tongue, hurry, before they find us.”

“O-okay.”

He obliges much too happily, curving your body into his with hands splayed over your back and neck as yours tangle in his hair.

Knock knock knock.

“MOMMY, ELLI ATE ALL THE CEREAL—”

Loki moves to break the kiss so you can answer, but you shake your head and suck his tongue back into your mouth.

“Mommy?”

Just a moment longer…

“Mommy, are you ‘n daddy kissin’ again?”

Loki pulls away, a grin back on his swollen lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, okay.”

You bite down on Loki’s shoulder to keep from laughing, holding onto him tight.

“…but the cereal’s gone.”

“There’s a new box on the middle shelf,” you call through the door, trying not to laugh when Loki starts nipping at the curve of your neck again. “Have Elliot get it down for you, okay, sweetie?”

“‘Kay, thanks, mommy.”

“My pleasure, Frigg.” Your hands slip back into Loki’s hair, tugging gently and preparing to get back to making out as soon as she leaves…

“Have fun kissin’ daddy.”

“Oh, I will,” you laugh, gazing into Loki’s eyes and brushing his hair out of his face as he quirks an eyebrow.

“…can I haffa kiss? M’kinda lonely ‘n Elli’s gonna leave…”

“Frigg,” Loki calls out to her, spinning you around to press your back against the wall and clapping a hand over your mouth. “Give us two more minutes and we’ll give you a million kisses.”

“Even at work?”

“Of course,” you laugh, pushing his hand away. “We’ll be right out, go have your cereal!”

Loki pauses for half a second to listen for the little footsteps leaving the room before pouncing on you again, dragging a trail of hot kisses down the column of your throat as your head falls back with a sigh.

“We’ve gotta stop,” you groan, raking your fingers through his hair. “Elliot has to get to school, Frigg needs a kiss—”

“MOM??”

“I still want another kid.” Loki’s lips leave your chest with a pop and he grins. “I’ll take the interruptions, only makes it that much better when we actually find time to ravish each other.”

“MOM, THERE’S NO MORE CEREAL—”

“If they say the word cereal one more time, I’m going to scream.”

“You know, this wouldn’t have happened if we had another kid.” Loki sets your pouting, deprived self back upright with a sigh, reaching down and buttoning your pants for you.

The pout continues—you haven’t gotten to kiss him like that in a while.

“I think it would only get worse if we had more…”

“Anyways,” Loki cuts you off, a finger to your lips, “the bed is right over there, I conveniently already have no pants on—”

“No.”

“I was thinking we should go for twins, actually,” he continues, that shit-eating grin plastered on his perfect face. “Make it an even four children, then if we don’t get twins this time, we keep at it until we get a pair—”

“Absolutely not.”

He heaves a dramatic sigh and wrestles your shirt over your head, holding it for you to slip your arms in. “I’ll respect your wishes, I suppose…”

“Look at me, Loki,” you laugh, lifting your arms when he starts tucking your shirt into the band of your pants.

He glances up when he finishes, grabbing a fistful of your shirt and pulling you in for a quick smooch. “Yes?”

“First of all, you just reversed-stripped me, which is very out of character for your horny self, but very sweet. Second…” you hold out a pair of pants to him with the sweetest grin you can manage. “Pants.”

“No.”

You throw the pants in his face. “Okay, this!! Is why we can’t have more kids!”

“Why, because I prefer to be ready for baby-making at any given time??”

“No!” You jab a finger into his chest, snagging a quick kiss that’s the perfect mix of annoyed and enamoured. “Because YOU are my third child, and you are exhausting and more work than Elliot and Frigg combined and you’re making me late to work again—”

He opens his mouth to defend himself and you shut it by sealing it with your own.

“Don’t. say. breakfast.”

“But—”

“No.”

“Hmph.” He crosses his arms with a huff, just sitting there and letting you squish your lips up against his.

A sorry excuse for a kiss, but neither of you are complaining.

Another yell for mom brings you crashing back into reality and you push yourself away, sighing happily and patting Loki’s pouting cheek. “Pants,” you remind him, pointing. “See you on the battlefield. In pants. Please.”

“Hypothetical question, darling,” Loki calls after you, holding up a finger when you reach the closet door. “If I don’t put on pants, will I get a spanking?”

“LOKI, I SWEAR TO GOD—”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

hope you enjoyed, please reblog and feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes

#loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki imagine #loki fluff #loki breeding kink #domestic!loki #dad!loki #loki lime #loki requests #loki fanfiction #loki drabbles #loki laufeyson #elliot lokason #frigg lokadóttir

[gingerwritess]

I'm painting my house! BEGONE UGLY YELLOW!!! What about some family fluff painting day?

ok this is definitely not what you were talking about BUT it’s still painting s o o o 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Uh oh!”

“Shh. They’ll wake up if you’re not quiet.”

Something brushes lightly across your bare back, tickling softly between your shoulder blades.

You’d love to guess Loki’s hand, but he’s fast asleep beside you, hand resting just under your chin—he must’ve had a hand on your cheek when you fell asleep.

“Uh oh.”

“Stop sayin’ that, Blueberry, it’s fine. They’re gonna love it!”

“…uh oh.”

The third little “uh oh” rouses you from your rest, the blurry bedroom slowly coming into focus as you blink.

As expected, your kids are visiting this lovely early morning—Elliot sprawled across Loki’s legs, little Frigg sitting calmly between the two of you.

“Wha’s goin’on?” You mumble, keenly aware of the fact that you’re a bit…bare, and probably shouldn’t roll over until you’re able to get the blankets back.

Elliot just gives you a sheepish grin, whipping his hands behind his back to hide. “Nothin’.”

“I don’t believe you,” you yawn, rubbing your eyes. “Frigg, honey, what’re you doing back there?”

“Uh oh,” she whispers.

That’s comforting.

“Is that—is that a paintbrush??”

Elliot’s face falls. “It’s washable! It’ll come right off!”

“Elliot!” You’d sit up, or at least roll over, but Frigg takes the wet paintbrush to your back again and you realise that might not be the best option, considering you apparently have a work of art smeared across your back. “What on earth made you think this was a good idea??”

He gives you another sheepish grin, twirling his paintbrush between his fingers. “Um…I just, um…Frigg told me to do it.”

“Uh oh.”

“Frigg told you,” you repeat, trying to give him your best glare over your shoulder. “Frigg, the baby. She told you to come paint your parents?”

His bright eyes flit away from yours.

“…yup.”

“You know she only knows about four words, right?”

“Yup. She’s a real smart baby.”

You bury your face back in your pillow with a quiet groan. “Elliot, don’t lie to me.”

It only takes about two seconds before he cracks.

The tears come first, lip wobbling as his eyes brim with tears, and he flops off of Loki’s thighs to bury his face in the blankets, muffled sobs echoing through the room.

“I’m sorry,” he cries, “I just—I just wanna draw, and-and I wanted t’ do somethin’ with Frigg, and you’re just layin’ here—”

“Elliot,” you whisper, reaching back to rub a hand over his back. “Elliot. It’s okay, sweetheart. Look at me.”

He lifts his head, eyes red and sniffling. “I’m sorry, mommy.”

“I forgive you,” you quietly assure him with a gentle smile. “You just can’t lie to me like that. And you definitely can’t blame your sister for things that you do, you understand?”

“I understand.” He nods furiously, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “Really, I do, I understand.”

“We’re all good, then.” Grabbing your pillow, you clutch it close and prop yourself up on your elbows to smile at him. “Now show me this piece of art you’re making. Dad’s back makes for a good canvas, doesn’t it?”

“Dah,” Frigg agrees.

Paintbrush abandoned, she’s apparently decided to switch to finger-painting your back, tiny fingers smearing across your shoulder blades.

Elliot nods, picking his paintbrush back up. “Well, I-I took all the bumps and made ‘em into stars. Kinda looks like space, doesn’t it?”

You scoot your way closer, studying the paint drying on Loki’s bare back—he might just be pretending to sleep, at this point, you wouldn’t put it past him.

All the bumps, Elliot said.

The bumps, apparently meaning the scars.

Each scar, each freckle on Loki’s back has been painted a dark blue, contrasting against his pale skin rather beautifully, actually. With his paleness and the painted scars and the darkened freckles, an expanse of constellations stretches across your husband’s back—you can’t believe you never noticed.

“That’s beautiful,” you tell your son in a hushed voice. “Geez, Elliot, you’ve got a good eye for hidden art.”

“Thank you!” A bright smile spreads over his face. “If he turned blue, then it’d really look like space, but I’m just gonna imagine it.”

That really would, completing the masterpiece perfectly; you’ve half a mind to run and get an ice cube, make him turn blue in his sleep just to finish off the painting, but at that moment, Loki squirms.

“Mmmf.”

“Dah!” Frigg gives your back one last swipe with green-painted hands, then clambers over the mattress to Loki. “Dah, dah!”

His eyes flutter open and her little hands go straight to his cheek.

“Dah,” she coos, a gummy grin on her tiny lips.

“Morning, Frigg,” he laughs. “I hope that’s only paint on your hands.”

The little handprint she leaves on his cheek brings a laugh to your lips, and Loki reaches up to grab her chubby hand and plant a kiss on her knuckles.

“What brought about this cozy art session?” He yawns, huffing a disobedient lock of hair out of his face. “To be conducted in the nude, nonetheless?”

“Watch it,” you laugh and smack him lightly on the arm. “Elliot and Frigg wanted to paint, and somehow we ended up as the canvases.” You point at your back, laying back down on your stomach with a grin. “What do you think? Frigg painted this.”

“Me!” She bounces a little as she laughs, waving her green hands in the air.

Pushing himself up on his arms, he lightly pinches her cheek. “You, sweetheart? It’s absolutely beautiful, a masterpiece if I’ve ever seen one.”

He leans over to press a firm kiss to your cheek as you lay there, head turned to him and a conundrum of colours smeared around your back, unable to stop the smile that spreads over your face.

You turn your head just a bit, catching his lips in a deeper kiss before he can move away.

“I think you had the perfect canvas, Frigg.” Loki sighs happily when you break away. “Just look at your mother. A work of art even before the paint.”

“That’s enough, silvertongue.” You shake your head at him with a laugh. “Elliot, you should tell dad what you painted.”

“I painted the sky,” Elliot answers excitedly. “It’s space, and I drew some stars and I made all your bumps into stars, and they made a constellation!”

“All my bumps?”

“One sec. Can you turn blue real quick, Loki?” You reach over for your phone, focusing the camera on his scarred back as it shifts to that beautiful blue. “Look at what he saw.”

Scooting closer to him, you bump your arm into his and show him the photo.

“It’s even better when you’re blue like this,” Elliot pipes up, taking the brush back to Loki’s skin, touching up on the little body painting.

Loki just blinks a couple times, still staring at the photo.

A bit of hair falls in front of his face and you quickly push it behind his blue ear, a bit of anxiousness starting to prick at your heart—how’s he going to take this?

“I think it’s beautiful,” you offer, and dart forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “We’ve got two little artists on our hands.”

“Wha’d’ya think, daddy?”

“You’re going to make me cry.”

He buries his face in his pillow, and you and Elliot can’t help but laugh.

“I’m not joking,” he laughs, voice muffled, “you can’t go around saying things like that, you can’t be that soft with me.”

“Yeah, I can!” Elliot argues with a grin. “I love you, so hah!”

Frigg lets out a string of garbled giggles in agreement, bright eyes jumping from each of your smiles to the next.

Head still shoved in the pillow, Loki lets out an anguished groan. “You three. You end me. You ruin me.”

“Guilty as charged,” you hum with a smile. Taking his hand in yours, you lay back down beside him and plant a kiss on the tip of his blue nose. “Are you two done back there or is this how the entire morning is going to be spent?”

“Don’t move,” Elliot orders, climbing back onto Loki’s thighs. “I’m gonna draw the moon. Pass me the white paint, Blueberry?”

Loki grins at the little gurgle from the other end of the bed.

“Fine, I’ll get it,” your son huffs, and a hand lands heavily on the back of your leg as he reaches over the two of you for the open tub of paint. “I can’t—reach—oop.”

Something warm spreads over your thigh. 

In the sudden silence of the cozy little room, Frigg speaks volumes.

“Uh oh.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

feel free to send me ideas!!

if you enjoyed…what if i linked my venmo…haha no i jest…no obligations….just in case….u don’t have to ha ha…….unless… ??

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys @highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo @tonakings @shinisenko @tinchentitri @nildespirandum @thefallenbibliophilequote @vodka-and-some-sass @highfunctioningfangirl19 @sadwaywardkid​ @lokioneshot​ @brooksaza

#loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki imagine #loki requests #dad!loki #domestic!loki #loki x reader fluff #loki laufeyson #loki series #elliot lokason #frigg lokadóttir

[gingerwritess]

Hey Theo! I just wanted to asking you could write something with Elliot on a sugar high before bed and maybe Loki and Reader treat putting Elliot to sleep like a mission... and maybe a steamy end???????

actual content?? on this blog ??? it’s more likely than you think ;)

oh my GOSH this was so so hard to write y’all i have had writers block so badly lately so thank you for sticking around!

this has mentions of drinking in it, no drunkenness, just sipping drinks :) ps this didn’t follow the request exactly i’m SORRY but i definitely have elliot on a sugar high in here! + steamy middle, but it works…

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You’ve lost your babies.

One of whom is the father of your actual baby, but you’re fairly certain that he was the one who took the candy in the first place.

The giggles coming from the bathroom might be a good hint, so you peek your head in the dark little room to find two silhouettes sitting in the empty bathtub, doubled over with laughter.

“Shh!!”

More giggles, and you yank the shower curtain aside.

“And just what do you two think you’re doing?”

“Your son started it,” Loki blurts, shoving the bag of candy into Elliot’s lap—who just screeches and throws it right back at him.

“Nuh uh!! Mommy, that’s not true! He brought it to me, he said I could have it!”

The little finger in Loki’s face never wavers as Elliot clambers over Loki’s legs to stand, hastily wiping at the chocolate smeared across his mouth.

“Little silvertongue,” Loki mutters as he pulls himself to his feet. “This was your idea, Elliot, I suggested we invite your mother as well…”

Hands on your hips, you raise an eyebrow at your son. “Is that true?”

Elliot giggles and plants his hands on his hips, too, grinning up at your “strict” gaze.

“Nope!”

“What am I going to do with your father?”

“He needs a spanking,” Elliot giggles as you lift him out of the bathtub, smoothing out the red cape on his shoulders. “He’s been real bad.”

Loki lets out a snort. “Don’t get my hopes up, Elliot.”

“Huh?”

“Loki.” You smack him in the chest, only to receive a wink in return. “C’mon, you two. We were supposed to be there five minutes ago.”

“I’m still tempted to forbid you from leaving the house dressed like that, Elliot.” Climbing out of the bathtub, Loki heaves a great sigh and tosses Elliot his little foam mjolnir. “As adorable as you look, I’m still insulted.”

Elliot giggles, clambering onto the counter to adjust his feathered helmet in the mirror. “I was you last year, daddy, it’s uncle’s turn. Gotta share, ‘member?”

Clearly Loki still isn’t thrilled with the notion of his son dressing up as his infamous brother…but given the circumstances and Thor’s blatant adoration for his kid, he sighs and waves a hand at Elliot.

“Right as always, my liege.”

Elliot grins from his spot up on the counter, tossing the little hammer from hand to hand. His lips curl, dimples forming in his chubby little cheeks—you know that look. He’s plotting something, isn’t he?

“Kneel, daddy.”

“Excuse me?”

The little boy bursts into a fit of giggles, chucking the foam hammer at Loki—who only gasps and scoops him off the counter with one great big “oh, how dare you,” lugging the mini-god of thunder off to the car amidst many laughing squirms and shrieked protests.

Once you’re at the tower, Loki’s reminded of just how much much he dislikes these social events.

Elliot left the moment you were through the door, zooming off with mjolnir in the air, cape fluttering, yelling for his uncle—leaving Loki a tiny bit sour, his hand still reaching for Elliot’s, who’s practically teleported away.

You take it instead.

“He’ll be back.” You give his hand a squeeze. “Must just be really excited about the prospect of flying.”

“I can fly,” Loki says under his breath, shoulders dropping. “Maybe not in the same way as Thor, but I can.”

Your soothing, reassuring response is cut off by a clinking of metal near your feet—you glance down.

Morgan’s waddled her way in front of you.

“What in all Hel—”

“Loki!”

The little girl waves up at the two of you, a great big toothless smile on her face.

Under the gold horned helmet on her head, that is.

“I’m you!”

She pokes Loki in the thigh. “See? Look it, look it, I’m you! Mr. Loki of Ath-gard!”

Either Loki is about to laugh, or the Stark legacy is about to end sooner than expected.

“That’s an amazing costume, Morgan!” You quickly smile and give the horns on her little helmet a playful tug, a hand on Loki’s arm, just in case. “Why’d you want to be Loki? Not your dad or…anything else?”

“I wanted to be somethin’ scary for Halloween,” she explains, reaching into the leather pouch around her waist. “Somethin’ scary ‘n ugly that’ll make people scream! So my dad said I should be Mr. Loki. I like it.”

Finding whatever she was looking for, she grins and pulls out a little blue cube.

“Tesseract,” Loki croaks. “C-clever.”

Keep it together, Lokes; she said she liked it, right?

It’s…adorable, actually, the beaming little brunette swishing the green cape around her, a banana hanging off her hip—

“Wait, what’s the banana for?”

“Mom wouldn’t let me have a knife,” she sighs, lifting the cape for a better look at the banana.

Loki looks like he might throw up.

“What’d’ya think, Mr. Loki?”

Silence, and you nudge him in the arm, praying he’ll focus on the endearing part of the costume.

“It’s…clearly the best costume of the night.”

Oh, thank god.

Morgan lights up and squeals, and you give Loki’s hand another squeeze, silently thanking him for not ruining her spirits.

“It’s better than Elliot’s, too,” she decides, adjusting her helmet before spinning on her heel and bolting away, cape fluttering. “I gotta go show ‘im!!”

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a little admirer,” you remark with a grin, tugging Loki over towards the drinks. “Wonder how much candy she’s had.”

“None, if you can believe that.”

“Tony! Hey, the place looks great!”

You hug the billionaire, much to the chagrin of your husband behind you, tiredly requesting two drinks and downing his in one gulp.

“Stark,” he then smiles, setting down the cup and offering his hand. “Happy…Halloween.”

Nailed it. Look at him go, all social ‘n stuff.

“I haven’t seen Elliot,” Tony says, ignoring Loki’s extended hand and wrapping him in a tight hug. “What’s the little bugger gone as, this year?”

“A complete—buffoon—” Loki grunts and squirms away from the hug.

“He wanted to dress up as Thor.” Smacking Loki in the arm, you sigh and try to find your son, lost amidst a crowd of friends. “It’s really cute, he’s got a little hammer and cape! There he is.”

They follow your point to find Elliot perched on the arm of a couch, eagerly listening to Morgan explain every detail of her costume, from the tip of her horned helmet down to the contents of her little pouch—

The mock-tesseract, spare banana, and a bit of green colour-powder—which she promptly takes a handful of and blows in Elliot’s face.

“Boom! Magic!”

Your little boy is mesmerised.

“Elliot’s pretty calm for already having eaten half a bag of candy,” you point out, nudging Loki with your hip. “Thanks to this bad boy, that is.”

“Uh oh…” Tony grins, giving Loki a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Been naughty, Lokester? Careful…tonight’s the one night mommy and daddy don’t need an excuse for the screams, ‘f y’know what I mean.”

You snort into your drink, but Loki just dryly replies with a monotone “I use a spell, thanks,” and takes another sip.

“Someone needs to get into the spooky spirit,” Tony laughs, nudging you in the arm. “You better chain him up or somethin’, celebrate.”

“Yes, Tony, thank you for the sex advice,” you groan, pushing him away. He just gives a loud whoop and hurries off to go talk to the kids—probably a terrible idea.

Loki’s still quietly leaning against the bar, watching the kids laugh and sipping his drink.

Well…maybe Tony had a point.

He could use a bit of a pick me up. And it’s been a couple days, given Elliot’s recent obsession with space—that’s been requiring you and your hubby to spend your nights cuddled up with your son, illusions upon illusions of the universe sparkling across the ceiling.

Not that you could ever complain.

“So…” you sidle up close to him again and laying a hand on his chest. “Are we going to be needing chains tonight, love?”

Loki quirks an eyebrow. “Maybe something to tie you down, but I don’t think chains will be necessary.”

“Oh. Expecting me to cooperate, hm?”

A smile slowly spreads across his face. “Go ahead,” he murmurs, taking a slow sip and pointedly licking his lips. “Don’t cooperate, see what happens.”

“Maybe I will,” you hum, a hand slipping up to take the drink from his hand and set it aside, turning his face to yours. “Hey.”

He looks at you, eyes tired but twinkling.

“Hey.”

“You okay?”

There’s an undeniable dimness to his eyes, but he gives you a small smile and tips his head down to brush his lips against yours.

“Thank you,” he whispers—you frown into his lips.

That’s not an answer.

“What’s on your mind?” You pry again, hands coming to rest on either side of his face.

“Currently…” his kiss deepens, tongue flitting out to flick over your lips. “You, a little…mm, tied up…”

“Save it,” you laugh, twining your arms about his neck and pulling him closer. “There’s children present.”

Breaking apart, your noses bump. “We could leave,” Loki whispers. “Thor has an eye on Elliot, no one would know we’re gone.”

“Ah, yes, there’s got to be a closet in this place that we haven’t already tainted…”

Casting a quick glance around to see if anyone would notice, Loki twines his fingers through yours and pushes off the bar into the small crowd, a tiny, eager grin on his face.

You’ve no choice but to follow, really…not that you wouldn’t.

*cue wii music in the background*

i’d like to take this pure moment to remind you. be a nice person. love people. let people live their own lives. you and Loki totally aren’t making out+ in a closet rn. am i avoiding it? yes. go be nice.

*end scene*

“You still haven’t—ugh, answered me,” you huff, grabbing Loki’s arm when he sets you back on your feet, snagging another kiss. “What’s wrong?”

The little mechanical closet is dark, air heavy and filled with the whirring of computer parts, and Loki tugs you closer, fingers still tight around your hip.

“Nothing.” His lips capture yours again. “Remember the first time I dragged you into a dark closet?”

“Of course, I don’t think I’d forget the knife to my throat. You really liked your death threats, didn’t you?”

“I’m so sorry,” he chuckles, face buried in the curve of your neck. “Thank you for being patient enough to teach me how to properly display my emotions.”

“I think you and closets matured nicely,” you murmur with a grin. “This is a much better option.”

Loki smiles, lips turned against your skin, and his breathless little sighs fall on your ear as he starts kissing you again—warm and open-mouthed along your jaw.

A hand finds its way to the nape of your neck, tugging you closer.

It slowly slips to your back, and the kisses slow to a stop.

His arms wrap around your waist and hold onto you tight.

“Loki?”

You can feel his heart thumping rapidly against your chest.

“Loki, what’s the matter?” Carding your fingers through his hair, you quickly hug him back just as tightly. “Talk to me, sweetheart, please.”

“Are you real?”

Muffled against your skin, his voice quivers.

“Yes,” you breathe, holding him closer. “Yes, of course I am—”

“And our son?”

You nod furiously and cradle the back of his head, keeping him tight in your embrace. “Yes, he is, he’s yours and mine and he’s real.”

“Alright.”

“Where’s this coming from, snowflake?”

He takes a shuddering breath—your heart drops. What happened?

“Stark,” he mumbles, and you sink to the floor, bringing him down with you in your arms.

“What about him?”

“He deserves this. A wife. A daughter. Family, happiness.”

“So do you,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair, over and over and over. “So do you, Loki, you deserve this, too.”

But as expected, Loki shakes his head and clutches at your back. “No, I don’t. Every day I wake, I think this is a dream. Just a fantasy.”

“But it’s not,” you argue, and you push him back by the shoulders to stare into his dim green eyes. “You are more deserving of happiness than anyone I know, and—”

“What have I done to deserve this?” He snaps, and you brush a lock of hair out of his face. “Stark has saved this planet time and time again, one of which was saving your world from my own reign of terror. I brought nothing but destruction to this realm, horror and death and destruction, yet here I am. Living here, with my family, happy.”

He spits the word out with such venom.

What a horrid paradox he lives in—loathing himself, finally finding happiness, only to despise himself so terribly that he won’t let himself enjoy it.

“You listen to me, Loki.” Your mouths meet once more, quick but firm. “So what, you’ve done some bad things. So have I, and so has Tony, so has Thor, and your father, and so has literally every single person in this entire universe.”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. You have to find a way to forgive yourself. You’re a good person, Loki. Someone I love, and someone our son loves.”

He doesn’t respond, just huddled in front of you staring back into your eyes, desperately trying to believe you.

Stroking a hand along his cheek, you give him a small smile. “I love you, Loki.”

Still nothing—just a quick, teary blink as he stares.

“I love you,” you whisper again, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Then you grab his face in your hands and drag him towards you, pressing quick little smooches across his cheeks and nose and lips and eyes and anywhere you can reach, down his jaw and over the hands he’s pushing you away with, wrought with laughter.

“Stop, stop,” he laughs, a hand on your face to keep your kisses at bay. “Gods, woman, I get it. I love you, too.”

You kiss the palm of his hand.

“I love you.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “I love you, too.”

“No, I love you.”

“I’m not doing this with you,” he laughs, lips puckering when you squish his cheeks in your hands and smush your lips to the corner of his mouth.

“But I loooove you, baby…” your hand slips under his shirt to lay against his heart, and you sling an arm around his neck to drag him into another kiss.

“I—mmf—love you,” Loki grunts—lips too squished and busy to get anything more out. “S-so much—”

His heart beats steadily under your palm.

Good.

Pushing him back with a loud smack, you take a deep breath and grin at him.

“Your kisses still knock the air right out of me, snowflake.”

“Well,” he huffs, swiping a hand across his mouth, “you don’t exactly pause for air, darling.”

Air comes second, when it comes to kissing Loki.

“C’mon,” you laugh, pulling yourself to your feet and holding out a hand to him. “Lets go find our baby-Thor before anyone gets suspicious.”

* * * * * * * *

The Halloween party blazes on as the two of you wind your way back to the bar, on the lookout for a hulking blond god and his dark haired mini-me.

But, the sight of the mini-Loki catches your eye first—Morgan’s cackling.

That’s the first bad sign.

The second is the pile of empty candy wrappers her and Elliot are throwing in the air like confetti, littering the floor around them, and the third—the one flashing a neon sign saying I screwed up—is Thor’s guilty grin.

“What did you—”

“MOMMY!!”

Your little boy comes barrelling across the floor to crash into your knees, grinning and out of breath.

“Did you know you can make love??”

You all but choke on air. “What?!”

“Uncle Thor said you ‘n daddy made love!! I wanna make some, show me how!” Jumping up and down, Elliot’s screeching, turning heads across the entire room.

Your heart plummets.

“Elliot, shh, please!” You drop to your knees and clap a hand over his mouth, trying to stop the incessant bouncing. “Don’t say that so loudly, shush!!”

Elliot nods furiously, still giggling as he squirms it from under your hand. “I wanna make love!” He whisper-yells, hands in little fists pumping in the air. “I wanna make some love and give it to daddy, what’re the ingred-ents??”

“Thor.” You stand, shoving a finger in the burly god’s chest. “What the hell did you tell him?”

“Well, he asked where you went—”

Loki hits the floor, he’s laughing so hard.

“In all truthfulness, this is your fault,” Thor offers, pointing a finger at Loki. “You always tell me to never lie to your son!”

“Why—hah—why, by Odin’s beard, would you think to tell him that??”

“It’s the truth,” Thor grumbles, popping another chocolate bar in his mouth. “Clearly you two were off trick-or-treating each other, I merely put your thirst into child-friendly terms…”

“That’s enough, Thor, thank you.” You clap a hand over your eyes with a groan—Elliot’s still chanting—albeit quietly—“make! love! make! love! make! love!”

“On that note, we’re leaving.” You swoop Elliot’s giggly self into your arms, only to have him start screeching and practically roll out of your arms.

“I DON’T WANNA GO YET!”

“Norns, child.” Loki’s eyes go wide. “No yelling, Elliot. Try again.”

The kid’s pumped so full of sugar, he’s practically vibrating in your arms.

“I’m sorry,” he giggles, and you know he means it seriously, though the grinning, chocolate-covered face says otherwise. “Can we please stay a little longer? Please?”

“Fine…” you sigh, dropping him back to the floor—he bolts away, grabbing Morgan by the hand and uh, poof.

Gone.

You catch the two of them, mini-Loki and mini-Thor, hiding under the candy table a few minutes later.

“Are we going to talk about the fact that Morgan Stark dressed up as you—”

Loki grabs you with one arm around the waist, catching your lips with his and promptly shutting you right up.

“No. No, I don’t think we are.”

* * * * * * * *

Elliot’s still going by the time you do drag him to the car—him taking to whacking everyone around him in the shins with his little mjolnir had been the last straw—and the moment he’s been wrestled into his car seat, the singing begins.

Who knew such little lungs had so much power?

“AND HEIMDALL’S YELLOW ‘N IRON MAN’S RED, A CAPE FOR THE BIG FELLOW ‘N CAP’S NOT DEAD—”

“Did he come up with that one on his own?”

“I assume so,” Loki sighs, head slumped into his hand, watching you drive. “I tried to give him some other options, but he’s a bit too hyper now for another lesson in Norse, don’t you think?”

“Nah, I can do it in Norse, dad!”

There’s a deep breath from the backseat—you brace yourself—followed by a deafening bang and a puff of dark smoke that fills the car from window to window.

You slam on the brakes.

“Elliot! No magic while we’re driving!”

“Sorry!” He shrieks, hands shooting into the air in defence. “Tha’s an accident!!”

“Pull over,” Loki coughs, waving away some of the smoke so you can at least see out the windshield. “I’ll sit with him.”

You do, and Loki goes to sit in the back with Elliot, quickly snatching up his little shaking hands in his own.

“You alright, Elliot?”

“That was an accident,” he whispers again, eyes wide. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” You twist around to smile at the little boy—hands trembling out in front of him, lip starting to wobble, he looks terrified. “Don’t worry, okay? Dad’s right here, he’s going to help.”

“We just have to be careful,” Loki quietly tells him, smoothing his thumbs over Elliot’s knuckles. “You see how that could’ve been dangerous, yes?”

“Uh-huh. I understand, really.”

Loki gives him a soft smile, squeezing his hands. “Would you sing me more of your song? The lyrics were intriguing, I would love to hear more.”

Elliot sniffs, giving a small shake of his head. “I wroted it myself,” he mumbles. “That’s all the words. Can you sing?”

“O-of course, erm…sure.”

You smile to yourself, starting the car back up.

They’ll be okay.

Loki’s quiet singing certainly helps, sitting in the backseat as you drive, holding Elliot’s hands tight in his. He’s ten times calmer, the sugar high starting to crash, his head lolling back against the car seat as he stares at his father with drooping eyes.

Slow blinks and hushed voices fill the car by the time you’re home. Finishing the quiet song to keep Elliot in his almost-asleep daze, Loki continues singing while you carefully unbuckle the kid, hoisting him into your arms to carry inside, Loki close behind.

“That was a lot easier than I expected,” you whisper, setting Elliot on his bed and getting him some sleep clothes to change into.

“With how much candy he ate, I did expect much, much worse,” Loki agrees, kneeling in front of the half-asleep little boy. “Lift your arms for me, Elliot? Just for a second, then you can go to back sleep.”

The two of you slowly get him changed, holding his head up when it droops and promising to hang his cape by the door when he jerks awake and insists upon it. 

“I’ll hold him, you brush his teeth?” You ask, picking up your son and holding him close. 

Loki smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Of course.”

Elliot’s drooling toothpaste onto your shoulder then entire time, but to hear Loki quietly chuckling behind you as he tries to brush the sleeping kid’s teeth, it’s entirely worth every bit.

“That’s as good as I can do,” he murmurs, brushing a hand along Elliot’s round little cheek. “Let’s get him in bed before he latches onto you for good.”

You give a soft laugh, hugging the boy tighter. “I wouldn’t complain. His hugs rival yours, Lokes, watch out.”

Loki stretches out on the foot of Elliot’s bed, arms crossing behind his head with a content sigh. 

“I mean, personally, I wouldn’t.” He catches your eye with a smile as you lower Elliot to the pillows. “Let you out of my arms, that is.”

“Neither would Elliot, apparently,” you laugh, trying to no avail to pry the little arms from around your neck. “Help, Loki, he’s not…heh, he’s not letting go…”

He sits up with a dramatic huff. “Only one thing to do, then.”

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he gives you a tug and you let out a squeal, toppling onto the bed.

“Loki!” You hiss, hoping to god that didn’t wake Elliot up.

“Shh…I need a hug, too.” Arms winding about your waist and over Elliot, who’s still fast asleep on your chest, Loki nestles into your side with a happy little hum. “Here. Better?”

A hand runs up your thigh, changing you immediately into your sleep clothes without having to actually get up and change. He’s done the same for himself, and you fake a sigh.

“I guess we’re sleeping here again, hm?”

“I won’t complain,” Loki murmurs, a hand rubbing over Elliot’s back. “Want the stars?”

You nod with a small smile, settling back against the pillows, your son on your chest and husband by your side. This is pretty unreal, you decide. Loki was asking the right questions.

It only gets better when Loki waves a hand towards the ceiling, flipping off the lights and covering the room in dim, flickering illusions of the universe, colourful realms swirling in the air among the endless expanse of stars.

“Thanks,” you whisper, pressing a kiss on your fingertips and placing them on Loki’s cheek. “I’d kiss you right now, but I can’t reach you with Elliot on me.”

“Let’s fix that.” Starlight glinting off his cheekbones, he scoots up onto the pillows and cradles your head in his hands, thumb brushing over your bottom lip before melding his lips to yours.

Soft, slow, and Elliot shifts in his sleep, a quiet sigh leaving his lips as he reaches for Loki, tugging him closer for you while he sleeps. 

“That’s better.” A giddy laugh leaves your lips when Loki does, kissing the tip of your nose once for good measure before cuddling back into your side. 

“And what’s so funny, darling?”

“Are you real?” You whisper, grinning down at your two loves, a hand combing through Elliot’s curls. “Are either of you real?”

Loki smiles, the universe swimming in his eyes as he watches you play with Elliot’s hair. “Told you. We live in a dream. This is just a fantasy, isn’t it.”

“It’s not,” you assure him. “Just feels like it, and that’s a million times better.”

“I love you. Both of you.”

Eyes closed and a soft smile playing at his lips, Loki takes your other hand in his and lays it on the top of his head. 

“Real subtle, Loki. I love you.” 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, too.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

feel free to send me ideas!!

if you enjoyed…what if i linked my venmo…haha no i jest…no obligations….just in case….u don’t have to ha ha…….unless… ??

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys @highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo @tonakings @shinisenko @tinchentitri @nildespirandum @thefallenbibliophilequote @vodka-and-some-sass @highfunctioningfangirl19

#loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki imagine #loki requests #dad!loki #domestic!loki #loki x reader fluff #loki laufeyson #loki series #elliot lokason

[gingerwritess]

Hey, how are you? I just wanted to say that I have the image in my head that Teenage Elliot and Peter sit together and talk about their superpowers. Do you think they would be friends because both can't talk openly about their powers and I have the feeling that connects both of them.

let’s kick this off with some elliot and spiderman stuff, that’s something new! 

―   ―   ―   ― 

Hotdog in hand, Elliot kicks his dangling feet, the laces on his sneakers fluttering in the wind.

“Hey, uh, Peter?”

“What’s up?”

“You ever wish you didn’t get bit by that spider?”

Spider-Man takes another bite of his chili dog.

If anyone had told him that someday he’d be sitting atop a New York building, eating hot dogs and answering existential questions from a ten year old…he’d have assumed someone slipped him a pot brownie.

But here we are.

He chews slowly, thinking.

“Yeah, sometimes. Yeah. I used to, a lot.” A bit of chili drips onto the red and blue uniform. “But you know what? Sometimes I think about if someone else had gotten bit. Woken up with my, um, superpowers.”

“That probably would’ve been bad,” Elliot remarks, watching a couple on the sidewalk below struggling to walk their stubborn dog.

“Uh-huh. These abilities could’ve fallen into anyone else’s hands, and who knows what they would’ve chosen to do with them. So I’m glad that I get to know the choices that they…I made.”

Elliot nods and flicks a leaf off the roof.

Peter’s a good friend. He likes hanging out with him.

He feels like they’re on the same page, the way he talks to him. Always honest, safe, like he can tell him anything.

So he does.

“I wish I was normal.”

“What?!”

The demigod winces, avoiding looking Peter in the eye. “I, um, I wish I didn’t turn blue. I wish I could just eat ice cream like a normal person, go out in the cold like normal.”

“But you’re so cool!” He scoots closer, offering the young boy a small smile. “I’d trade you in a heartbeat. Blue’s my favorite color, and to be cold-resistant and magic?? Hell, you’re the neatest superhero I know.”

Elliot laughs, feet kicking at the wall as he sighs and glances at his knees. “But I’m not super. I’m just me. My dad’s super, and you’re super, and all my aunts and uncles are super, but I feel like I’m the mutant who’s gotta hide what I can do.”

“You’re not a mutant,” Peter assures him with a chuckle. “And yeah, secret identities suck, but you don’t necessarily have to keep yours a secret! I have to because I have enemies. You’ve still got a clean slate—right??”

At that, Elliot laughs, and a wave of relief washes over Peter at the comforting sound.

Elliot’s a complex little guy, he’s discovering.

He’s just happy the little blue demigod trusts him enough to talk to him.

“Yeah, I’m clean, so far.” Elliot’s laugh fades out with another sigh. “I just don’t know.”

Spider-Man wraps an arm around him, tugging him close into his side with a comforting squeeze.

“You don’t have to know.”

A passenger plane blinks through the clouds a while away, and the two of them watch it glide in the silence of the city below.

Elliot decides he feels a little better, being able to get some of that off his chest.

He can tell Peter’s worrying, though, worrying he said something wrong or handled the situation wrong…

“Thanks, Pete.”

Another squeeze on the arm.

“Anytime, kiddo.”

Elliot chews his lip for a moment, not wanting to have to get down quite yet.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s it like havin’ a girlfriend?”

―   ―   ―   ―

fuel the writer?

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

tags under the cut ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys @highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo @tonakings @shinisenko @tinchentitri @nildespirandum @thefallenbibliophilequote @vodka-and-some-sass @highfunctioningfangirl19 @sadwaywardkid @lokioneshot @brooksaza @wild-honey-piy @ellaenchanted91 @watermelon-lights19 @just-another-romantic @skinny-macncheese @lokisironthrone

#loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki imagine #peter parker fanfiction #dad!loki #elliot lokason #loki fluff

[gingerwritess]

So. This happened to me like, two days ago. I have a friend who has 3 little demons (but I love them). And the situation she was in made me wonder how would Loki react to coming home slightly later than he had intended, only to find his wife trying to do twenty things at a time, in the verge of tears, with a crying Frigg with soap in her eyes, and Elliot trying to console them both, and terribly failing. A dash of angst in there if you may. Love you!! 💕💕💕

ok let’s get some cONTENT up in this blog

here’s that screaming frigg fic y’all were so worried about heheh

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Loki’s out tonight, and the kitchen is flooding.

It figures that it’d happen tonight of all nights, a night when you have a six o’clock appointment the next morning and are trying to get everyone to sleep a little earlier, a night when everything already seems to be going wrong.

There’s a leak in Elliot’s room that just started up again, and in rummaging around under the sink for a pot to catch the water, he’d bumped a pipe with his elbow and the sink had promptly exploded.

Hands full of dirty clothes, you were on the phone with the landlord about the first leak when he sheepishly knocked on the laundry room door, dripping water with every step.

You thought that might’ve been the worst of it, trying to wrap the broken pipe in towels and stop the stream of water, but then a blood-curdling scream comes from the bathroom where you thought Frigg was brushing her teeth.

“Everything’s fine,” you’d assured the landlord, dropping the towels and rushing to the bathroom. “Just my little one, something—oh, god.”

“MY EYES, MOMMY MY EYES—”

Her eyes watery and bloodshot, she’s screaming and furiously rubbing her eyes with two little hands.

Two little bubbly hands.

“One second,” you say into the phone, handing it to Elliot and grabbing Frigg. “What happened?!”

“Soap,” she sobs, pointing at the handsoap, “soap, it ‘mells good, b-but it burns…”

“You rubbed soap in your eyes?”

She nods, a fresh wave of tears enveloping her in shaking screams, and through them you hear Elliot on the phone:

“It’s just my baby sister. Nah, she’s washing her eyes. You married? You got any kids? ”

You grab the phone from him and stick it under your ear, holding it between the side of your face and your shoulder as you swing Frigg under one arm and rush back out to the kitchen.

“Sorry, so the leak—yeah, sure, we can call someone about it.” Still trying to maintain a civil conversation, you grab the pot and run it to Elliot’s room, sticking it under the leak and hurrying back to the kitchen to get to work on the sink. “This falls under the covered maintenance charges, though, right?”

The front door opens just as the landlord gives you a slow “not exactly…” and Loki walks in.

You’re almost relieved to see him until you take in the sight of him, tuning out the landlord’s explanation of how much you’re going to have to pay and Frigg’s consistent screams of pain just to focus on the mess of a husband that just walked through the door.

His shirt hanging open and unbuttoned save the bottom three, hair a sloppy bun behind his head, wide, shocked eyes sweep the room until his mouth opens and—

“They’re supposed to be in bed!”

You choke back a sob and Loki knows he just fucked up.

“Let me call you back,” you croak into the phone, letting it slide off your shoulder onto the floor.

It cracks on the tile, but you couldn’t care less at this point.

“Are they supposed to be in bed, Loki?” You step towards him, wiping your nose on your sleeve as you drag a wailing Frigg along next to you. “Really, are our kids supposed to be asleep right now? I had no idea.”

“I-I didn’t mean—”

“You think I don’t know that?? You think I haven’t been trying for the past two hours—”

“Let me help,” he offers, rushing forward and grabbing Frigg. “What’s she going on about?”

“Soap in her eyes, go help her wash it out.” You gladly hand her over but she just screams louder, thrashing around in Loki’s arms as you run to the kitchen.

“It’s gettin’ worse, mom.” Elliot points at the overflowing sink, a nice puddle of water sloshing around at his feet. “I tried to stop it but it’s comin’ too fast for the towels—”

“LOKI!! Get in here!”

He hurries in, setting Frigg on the counter—still screaming bloody murder—and promptly slips in the puddle of water and falls flat on his back.

You shriek. He laughs.

“Aren’t I graceful,” he giggles, pulling himself back to his feet and flicking water in your face.

Wait.

Giggles??

“Fix the sink,” you groan, head dropping to your chest. “Please.”

“Gladly, m’lady.” He narrows his eyes and holds up his hands, and whoosh—all the water in the sink gathers into a giant wave and washes over the three of you.

At least now your tears will blend in.

“I said fix it,” you grit out, trying not to raise your voice at his stupid grin. “You’re not being funny, Loki, just fix it.”

Elliot looks about ready to cry, too, now in pajamas soaked to the bone with water dripping from his brow.

“Sorry,” Loki chuckles, reaching up to wring out his hair. “My magic doesn’t get along well with alcohol.”

You freeze and Elliot takes a step back—something about this tells him this won’t be pretty.

“Loki?”

He turns to you with a smile and brings a hand up to cradle your cheek. “Hmm?”

You smack his hand away. “You’re drunk, aren’t you.”

He bites his lip with a small grin. “I brought some home for you, too, for once the children are in bed.”

“MOMMY, IT HURTS—”

“Get out of here,” you hoarsely tell him, tears pooling in your eyes. “I can’t deal with you right now, Loki, get out.”

He just blinks, brow furrowing at your tears. “Why are you crying, my love?”

“Dad,” Elliot pipes up before you can explode at him, cautiously placing a hand on Loki’s arm. “You should go, um, take a shower.”

“Why—”

“GET OUT!!” You shout, pushing past him to scoop Frigg off the counter, abandoning the sink issue until the screeching daughter has been stopped.

Drunkenness aside, Loki seems to know what’s best for him, given how he nods and quickly retreats to your room, already shedding his soaked shirt before the door shuts behind him.

“Sorry, mom.” Elliot trails behind you as you take Frigg to the bathroom, helping her out of her pajamas and turning on the shower. “I don’t think dad means anything by it, I think he just came in at the wrong time.”

“Don’t worry,” you sigh, wiping off a mix of sink water and tears with your sleeve. “I’ll talk to him, there’s just too much going on right now. Frigg, sweetie, screaming isn’t going to help, just put your face under the water.”

She shakes her head, teary eyes squeezed shut.

“C’mon, Frigg, you have to get the soap out of your eyes.” You try to guide her under the stream of water, but she fights against you and shakes her head again.

“NO!”

“It’ll make your eyes feel better,” you promise, trying again to pull her into the water. “Elliot, take all the towels from in here and start drying up what you can in the kitchen, okay?”

He nods and gathers up all the towels, taking them out to the kitchen as you give up and climb in the shower with Frigg; you’re already soaked from Loki’s little sink display.

Picking her up, you carefully step under the water and hold her close when she tries to hide from the water, trying to let the gentle stream land on her face.

“See? It’s warm, it won’t hurt you.” You reach over and start gently rubbing her eyes, carefully trying to lift her eyelid to let the clean water rinse away the soap. “Mommy’s got you. It’s just gonna hurt for a little longer, I promise it’ll go away.”

Thankfully she falls slack in your grip and the screams reduce to quiet sniffles, her little arms tightly hugging your neck as you gently wash off her face.

“There we go! Doesn’t that feel better?” Shutting off the water, you step out of the shower and reach for a towel—oh.

Elliot took all the towels. That’s right.

“Now m’all cold, mommy,” Frigg mumbles, hugging your soaked shirt closer.

“Let’s go find dad.”

You really don’t want to have to see him yet, but if all the towels in the house are being used to block a broken pipe, he’ll have to do.

You carry Frigg to your bedroom, knuckles rapping on the door before you step inside. Loki’s wrapped his waist in a towel, digging around in a drawer for a change of clothes, and he looks up with a bright grin when you walk in with Frigg in your arms.

“There’s my girls!”

“We’re out of towels,” you say curtly, stopping before you reach him. “Dry us off?”

His face falls when you won’t round the edge of the bed, but he nods and gives you a sheepish grin as he comes over to place a hand on Frigg’s back.

“Can we talk?” He asks quietly, warm air surrounding you, Frigg nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck. “I know you’re mad.”

“Not right now,” you mutter, hoisting her higher on your hip. “I’ve got kids to put to bed. And a house to fix. And a drunk husband to take care of.”

“I’m not drunk anymore,” he promises, running his hands up and down your arms with a sad lift of his eyebrow. “I’ll explain everything.”

“Later.”

He doesn’t argue, just sending one more wave of warm air over the two of you and leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead before you can duck away.

“Thanks.”

Hugging Frigg a little tighter, you carry her back to the bathroom and help her into her pajamas. The sound of rushing water seems to have gone down, hopefully meaning that Elliot figured something out with the sink, so you tuck Frigg into bed and kiss her goodnight before going out to check on him.

“Fixed it,” Elliot proudly announces, spreading his arms towards the flooded sink.

Sure enough, by some miracle, the stream of water at least has stopped spraying.

“What’d you do?” You drop to your knees and help him finish drying off the floor, gathering armfuls of soaked towels into your arms and lugging them off to the laundry room wth Elliot trailing behind.

“The water was on,” he explains with a quick snort of laughter, helping you dump all the towels into the washer. “I just turned off the faucet ‘n tied up the pipe with a towel.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No,” he giggles, shaking his head at the smile starting to hint at your lips. “We’re just that dumb.”

You can’t help it—you laugh, reaching over to ruffle a hand through his wet hair. “Thanks for everything, Elliot. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Anytime, mom.” He wraps an arm around your waist for a wet hug, following you back out to the living room. “Is Frigg okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. “Had to rinse her eyes out, but she’s asleep now.”

“She told me she thought the soap smelled good,” he giggles, stopping in his bedroom doorway to look up at you. “So she wanted to see if it looked as pretty as it smelled.”

You shake your head with a grin as he doubles over with muffled laughter. “Okay, maybe she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed,” you laugh, running a hand through his curls. “Yet. She’s only three.”

He just cracks up again, leaning against the doorway to catch his breath. “Gosh, I love her,” he grins, a hand to his heart as a few stray laughs escape. “Oh, and mom? Don’t go too hard on dad, please? He’s really sorry, I can tell.”

You wrap your kid in a hug, pressing your lips to the top of his head. “I won’t,” you assure him. “And I’m not mad at him, it was just a whole lot of bad timing. I’m sorry I shouted at him.”

“S’alright,” he replies softly, hugging you tighter. “Just make sure he knows that. It’s tearin’ him up inside.”

* * * * * * * *

You feel like you’re about to scold one of your kids, with the amount of guilt etched across Loki’s face.

He shoots to his feet when you open the door, lifting a halfhearted hand to you. “I am so, so sorry,” he blurts, “I never should’ve left you—”

“No, don’t be.” You wave away his apologies and trudge over to him, glancing anywhere but at his face. “You have a good time?”

“Don’t brush this off,” he frowns, gently placing a finger under your chin and tilting your head towards him. “Be mad at me. You’re too forgiving. I’ve done plenty tonight to constitute your being upset with me.”

“It was just bad timing,” you weakly argue, crossed arms falling to your sides. “Sorry I shouted at you.”

“I came home drunk, left you to care for our children, I insulted you as a mother and my wife. You should hate me.”

“I just want to sleep,” you whisper, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and pulling his hand away. “I’m so tired, Loki, let’s just go to bed.”

You shrug off his hands and crawl in bed, your back to Loki, reaching over to turn off the light before he can say anything else.

“G’night,” you mumble, blinking back tears.

Crap. You forgot about the leak in Elliot’s room. That’ll have to be tomorrow’s problem.

Loki doesn’t come to bed that night. You hear him get in the shower—again, you guess, he’d already showered once to sober up, but you’re not going to question it—and then he leaves the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

After about an hour of tossing and turning among the empty sheets, you give up and drag yourself out the door.

The carpet in the living room is still damp from all the water you, Elliot, and Frigg had dripped across the house, squishing under your toes when you see Loki curled up on the couch, eyes tightly shut.

Idiot.

You give his hips a good shove to make some room, lifting his arm and tucking yourself back against his body as he quietly grunts in his sleep.

“You could’ve stayed in bed with me,” you whisper, pulling his arm tight around your chest.

“Don’t deserve to.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

The arm around you tightens and he buries his face in the curve of your neck, placing one single soft kiss there. “Agreed.”

You’re asleep within minutes.

There’s a weight on your chest when you eventually wake up—and it’s definitely well past six in the morning.

Your eyes fly wide open.

You were supposed to be somewhere by now.

Immediately trying to worm your way out from under the dead weight on your chest, you realise it’s Loki and he just grips you tighter, his head on your chest and arms tight around your waist.

“I cancelled it,” he grunts, holding you down until you finally go slack under him, slightly breathless.

“That’s rude,” you huff, smacking weakly at his arm. “I needed to go to that, Tony was counting on me—”

“No, you needed to rest.” He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, eyes still closed. “I already took Elliot to school, Frigg’s still asleep.”

“…thanks.”

“Mm.” He nuzzles into your neck, thumb brushing along your wrist. “I also need to speak with you.”

“Nooo,” you groan, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t wanna talk about it, let’s just move on.”

“Don’t move.” He squeezes your waist with his arms, planting a kiss on your collarbone. “You don’t have to respond, but I want you to hear my apology.”

You don’t reply, but your fingers tangle in his hair, so Loki keeps talking.

“I’m so sorry for not being here for you,” he murmurs. “I have no excuse. The same responsibility you carry for our family should fall on me as well, yet I threw that away last night for a few drinks with my brother. I was careless and self consumed, and I am so, so sorry.”

“Thanks.” Picking up a chunk of his hair to braid, you focus on that to avoid his gaze. “I’m not mad at you for going out, y’know. It was really just a whole lot of craziness and bad timing.”

“That’s no excuse,” he quietly replies. “I’m so sorry. How can I make this up to you?”

“You don’t have to.” You smile down at him, poking a finger into his cheek. “Really, it was just bad timing. I mean, when have you not gone out with Thor and come back tipsy? Plus he said he needed to celebrate, so I really shouldn’t be surprised.”

He smiles, just the corners of his lips curling into your skin. “Fair point, but I think that just means you should be upset at the both of us.”

A content silence settles over the living room, the two of you huddled on top of each other to not fall off the couch. It’s a blissful moment of peace and quiet before Frigg wakes up, a moment of just the two of you that’s become increasingly rare.

Fingers lost in Loki’s hair, your mind wanders back to the leak in Elliot’s room and the broken pipe you’re going to have to pay for yourself.

“Loki?”

He opens one eye to glance up at you. “Hm?”

“I think we should move.”

At that, he shifts, practically laying on top of you to stare up at you playing with his hair. “Where to?”

“Anywhere.” Still focused on his braid, you don’t look him in the eye. “This place is too small for our family, and we shouldn’t be living in conditions like this. Plus you’re like, a king, so I feel bad for putting you in a dump like this.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Loki frowns, shaking his head at you—and messing up the braid.

“Hey!”

“Sorry.” He winces and quickly lowers his head again, letting you start braiding again. “Don’t you dare feel bad about me, I couldn’t have even begun to dream of having a life as wonderful as this.”

“But you always say that.”

“Because I mean it,” he mumbles into your neck, eyelashes brushing your skin as his eyes close again. “Would you like to move to Asgard?”

You fall silent, just crossing one little strand of hair over the other over and over and over.

It sounds great. In theory.

Moving a family of four to a different realm is a much more daunting task than it seems—there’s a bit more than just a time change involved.

“We’d all have to become immortal, right?”

“Only if we choose to become royalty again,” he replies.

“Is that even an option? After…y’know.” You swallow thickly, wishing you hadn’t brought it up in the first place.

“All I’ve done?”

You just nod, glad his face is in your neck, hidden from sight.

With the churning of his insides, Loki doesn’t want to answer you—and luckily, he doesn’t have to.

Little footsteps come clambering into the living room before either of you have a chance to say anything more.

Frigg’s crying. Again.

“Why you not in bed??” She sobs, lifting her arms up to Loki, little fingers grabbing for him. “Daddy, you not in bed!”

Sitting up, he chuckles and lifts her into his lap, quickly wrapping her in a hug. “Your mother and I slept out here. See? Now we’re just closer to the kitchen for breakfast.”

“I looked for you,” she sniffs, nuzzling into his chest. “You weren’t there.”

“We’re right here,” you assure her, “we’ve been here the whole time. Are you hungry?”

The little girl nods, rubbing her face into Loki’s shirt. You bite back a laugh; he silently blanches, his look of feigned disgust morphing into a chuckle at the tear-stains and snot-stains now striping his shirt.

Never would’ve thought he could be so thrilled to have snot rubbed across his favourite cotton shirt, but if it’s coming from his little girl, he can’t complain.

“Come with me, Frigg.” He presses a kiss to her forehead, pulling himself off the couch to carry her towards the kitchen. “What would you like to eat?”

“Waffle,” she mumbles, one little hand mindlessly winding itself into Loki’s hair. “M’still sleepy, daddy.”

“You can go back to sleep, sæta,” he murmurs—you sit up, trying to keep an eye on them—and when she nuzzles closer into the curve of his neck with a sleepy nod, your heart melts at the soft smile on Loki’s face.

“I’ll wake you when your waffle is ready.”

Damn it.

Nothing works quite like a little kid to remind you just how much you love someone.

“And you, my love?” His daughter dozing off on one hip, he pokes his head out the doorway. “What would you like?”

“Didn’t you say last night that you brought something home for the two of us?” You yawn as you stretch, pulling yourself to your feet.

He laughs with a nod. “Shall we start our day off with a drink, then?”

“Please.”

The two of you work your ways around the kitchen, Loki holding Frigg in one arm as she naps and he cooks, you pouring the strange liquor out of the elegant Asgardian bottle into two glasses and carrying them back to the couch.

Loki joins you a few moments after, setting the plates on the coffee table and carefully lowering Frigg onto the couch as she stirs.

“Cheers, my love.” He smiles, situating himself next to you on the couch and picking up his glass.

You lean back onto him with your own glass, clinking it against his as he presses his lips to your temple, an arm winding it way around your chest. “Love you, Lokes.”

“HEY!”

Frigg jolts upright before the rim has even hit your lips, a chubby little finger pointed right at the two of you. “Can I haff some?”

Loki laughs, gently pushing you off of him to stand back up. “Give me just a moment, sæta.”

“Loki,” you call out after him, hurrying to set your glass down, “she’s three, she can’t have this—”

“Apple juice,” Loki replies with another laugh, reemerging from the kitchen with a green sippy-cup in hand. “It’s just apple juice. The best drink for when your three years of life are already adding up.”

Frigg reaches for the cup with a quiet whine, little fingers scrunching up as she bounces. “Thank you!”

Grabbing his wrist with a laugh, you pull Loki back over to sit behind you so you can lean against him again. “Well, it’s tough being a three year old, isn’t it?”

“Mm. The absolute worst.”

“What a life,” you chuckle as Frigg tears into her waffle, not bothering with syrup—or a plate, for that matter. “Think she would like it on Asgard?”

He takes a sip of his drink, wincing at the burn of it going down. “Oh, she would love it. Have you seen the way she looks at the world? I can’t take my eyes off of her for one second when we’re outside, she’ll go anywhere she hasn’t been and probably never come back.”

Frigg’s bright, green eyes flit up to look at the two of you watching her, gnawing absently on the straw of her sippy-cup.

“There’s no better place to feed a child’s curiosity,” Loki quietly continues as he looks at her, thumb rubbing slowly over your shoulder. “Though some of my worst memories are housed there, it does me no good to dwell on them. Asgard is not to blame.”

“What about Elliot?” You lean over to Frigg, helping her rip apart a particularly stubborn chunk of waffle. “Seems like it’d be good for him. He’s not the biggest fan of this planet, I don’t think.”

Loki laughs, drawing you back into his embrace. “Do you remember the first time he experienced Asgard—besides as an infant, of course? I’ve never seen him so excited.”

“Yeah,” you smile at the memory, the stars in his eyes and dimples like craters on the moon. “We should ask him how he’d feel about moving.”

“We should. There’s no rush, love, we can leave for Asgard whenever we see fit. If there is any hesitation, I say we wait and continue our lives here, and if it is meant to be part of our journey, it will be.”

Your phone buzzes then, shattering the peaceful air resting over the morning.

Ah. The landlord’s texted you the plumbing company he’d like you to hire—“for your water problem,” the text reads. Oh, so helpful.

“Tell you what,” you sigh, tossing your phone back onto the table and settling back against Loki’s chest. “We give Earth two more years to impress us. If no obvious signs have shown up, no clear reasons for us to stay, we move.”

“And if we do stay?” Loki plants another instinctive kiss to your temple, eyes still trained on your daughter eating.

“Then we just…stay.” You tilt your head up to steal a kiss, fingers running along his jaw. “I mean, it’s not like this isn’t the dream life, either. I love what we have. Let’s just…keep open minds, yeah?”

Loki smiles, raising his wine glass. “You have yourself a deal, my darling.”

You clink your glass against his with a grin, undeniable butterflies already fluttering around in the pit of your stomach about what may come. “Deal.”

“Wait, I wanna, too!” Tossing her waffle aside, Frigg grabs her apple juice and scrambles over to plop herself right in front of the two of you.

“And are you in agreement, Frigg?” Loki chuckles. “Any terms you’d care to add, or is this a deal?”

“Deal,” Frigg giggles, raising her little sippy-cup to bump into your wine glasses.

“Well.” Loki takes one last sip of his drink before pouring the rest into your glass with a soft smile. “There’s no going back now, is there.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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