#ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴋɪ ᴘᴏsᴛs

[hawthorne-bias]

fall into his orbit

Married to Loki, the god of mischief, Y/N is still in awe of her new life—as an Asgardian princess, a title she never dreamed would be hers. Her world, once confined and unremarkable, now sprawls out before her like an epic tale too vast for her to fully grasp. The splendour of it is intoxicating, each new discovery both a marvel and a mystery, and with every passing moment, she grows more eager to uncover the layers of a life she never imagined. But what of Loki? A riddle wrapped in shadows, whose every smile holds both a question and a command, whose every word is a carefully concealed truth. Y/N is left to navigate the labyrinth of him, drawn in yet uncertain, as though the man she married is a world unto himself—one she is not yet allowed to enter fully. With her quick wit and stubborn heart, however, she is ready for whatever challenges lie ahead—and maybe, just maybe, she will uncover the man behind the enigma… but only if he allows it, of course.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader Tags: Takes place before the movie 'Thor (2011)'; Arranged Marriage; Fluff; Some Humor; Slow Burn Romance; Developing Characters and Relationship; Awkward Tension; TW—sarcastic comment on death, hints of jealousy or insecurity, subtle power dynamics. Oneshot belonging to the series 'you were never a saint, and I’ve loved you all the same' // Read on AO3 // wc: 1674 A/N: I don't own MCU or its characters! The header is from Pinterest whilst the dividers are from @/adornedwithlight. :) Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! <3

The soft light of dawn spills across the golden spires and shimmering towers of Asgard, bathing the majestic city in warm, golden hues. Y/N stands at the balcony of the royal palace, leaning slightly over the edge, her eyes wandering over the sprawling vista below. The kingdom of Asgard stretches out before her, its shining white stone walls and towering structures bathed in early morning light. From here, she can see the vast expanse of the Bifrost Bridge, stretching far into the distance, the rainbow bridge gleaming like a thread of colour woven into the sky. The glittering rivers and pristine gardens of Asgard, flanked by golden statues, catch the light and shimmer like jewels scattered across the landscape.   

She has known this land all her life—walked its streets, trained in its courts, and now, here she is, in the heart of the royal palace, gazing down at it from a vantage she has never before had. 

She never thought she would see Asgard like this. From the high balcony of the palace, everything looks more magnificent than ever. The city, spread out beneath her, seems almost unreal—like a creation from the hands of gods themselves. I could stay here forever, she thinks, a fleeting thought that fills her with a quiet warmth.   

Asgard beneath her, still bathed in the soft, peaceful embrace of morning, seems almost otherworldly. The grand towers of the palace, the golden gleam of the Bifrost, and the distant mountain peaks all merge into one perfect scene. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of this view, she muses, a warmth blooming in her chest as she takes in the beauty.   

Her thoughts are so consumed by the scene that she doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching her from behind until a sharp voice splits the stillness.   

“ How wonderful it must be, ” the voice drawls, laced with sarcasm, “ to find one’s wife plummeting to her death first thing in the morning, hm? ”   

Y/N’s foot catches on the edge of the balcony as she spins around, startled by the sudden intrusion. Her balance falters, and before she can catch herself, her body tips backward. A startled yelp escapes her lips as her arms flail, desperately trying to find some purchase.   

She falls heavily to the marble floor, landing with a soft thud , her legs awkwardly entangled beneath her. Staring up at the sky in stunned silence, she can hardly believe the absurdity of the situation. Well, that was unexpected, she thinks, half-amused despite herself.   

For a moment, she remains there, dazed, simply gazing up at the pale sky as she tries to collect herself. It’s not so bad, she reassures herself. Nothing broken—only my pride. But then, as the seconds stretch on, the reality of what has just happened begins to settle in, and she realizes—   

Loki is already fully dressed in his royal finery, looking every bit the part of a prince, while she—still in her nightgown—lies sprawled awkwardly on the floor.  

He stands above her, his eyes flickering between glaring at her and looking away as if some deep discomfort has overtaken him.  

It is far too early for court matters to be stirring, yet here he is, impeccably groomed, which only adds to the strange urgency of the situation.

Y/N blinks, her mouth dry from the shock of the fall, but she quickly regains her composure, forcing a soft, sheepish smile. “Good morning, Your Highness,” she says, her voice breathless but light. Though I cannot imagine how this is a ‘good’ morning for either of us...    

Loki is silent for a moment, his eyes sweeping over her with that sharp, calculating gaze of his. He seems caught between irritation and some form of awkwardness. The corner of his mouth twitches ever so slightly before he speaks, his tone curt. “Need assistance?”   

Y/N blinks in surprise. Is he offering to help? Or is this merely another sarcastic remark? She quickly scrambles to sit up, the fabric of her nightgown shifting around her, and with a nervous laugh, she brushes herself off. “No, no, Your Highness. I’m quite fine, thank you,” she says hastily, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.   

She rises quickly to her feet, smoothing her nightgown as best as she can, and makes her way inside to grab her cloak. She can’t stand there before him, looking like a complete fool. I must have looked utterly ridiculous, she thinks with a quiet groan.   

Once she has draped the cloak around her shoulders and regained her posture, she turns back toward him. “But, if I may ask,” she says, trying to sound as composed as possible despite the lingering embarrassment, “why are you here so early?” It certainly isn’t the usual time for any formal court duties, and her curiosity gets the better of her.   

Loki’s gaze softens ever so briefly, though the change is fleeting. “Can’t a man visit his wife?” His voice is laced with an undercurrent of something Y/N cannot quite place—a tightness perhaps, one that seems almost out of character.   

Y/N’s thoughts flicker back to their wedding night, remembering how clearly Loki had made it known that their marriage was a mere formality, nothing more. The sharpness of his words had lingered in the air, and she has long since come to terms with that. Still, a small part of her wonders, Could it ever be different? But she quickly shakes that thought away, dismissing it as foolishness.   

A small smile plays at the edges of her lips. “Of course, Your Highness. It’s simply... unexpected. I wasn’t anticipating a visit so early, that’s all.”   

Loki lets out a dry, almost humourless laugh, his eyes briefly flashing with something unreadable. “I must be troubling you,” he mutters, his gaze drifting away, as though lost in his own thoughts. It is unclear whether his words are directed at her or himself.   

Y/N quickly shakes her head, her voice gentle. “Not at all, Your Highness. Please, do not worry.” She pauses, then adds, with a slight change in tone, “Have you had breakfast yet?”   

Loki raises an eyebrow at the question, clearly taken aback. “Isn’t it too early for breakfast?” His tone is incredulous, yet there is something else—an exhaustion she had not noticed before.   

Y/N offers a soft grin, her tone light. “Isn’t it also too early for court affairs?” she teases, unable to resist.   

Loki’s eyes narrow slightly, though his lips quirk upward for just a moment, a hint of amusement breaking through his usual reserve. “I’m not attending court,” he replies with a touch less sharpness. “I’m heading to my office. Thor’s coronation is only a year away, and there’s an endless list of things to do—guest lists, invitations, processions, security... I can hardly keep up with it all.”   

Y/N falls silent, observing him. There is something in his voice, a strain she hadn’t expected. It isn’t just the work; there is an undercurrent of something deeper. Perhaps frustration? Or even jealousy? She has heard the whispers around the palace regarding the upcoming coronation of Loki’s older brother, and it seems that burden is now weighing on him. Poor thing, she thinks. He may never be the one in the spotlight.    

After a moment, she speaks softly, trying to ease the tension that hangs in the air. “But a year is still quite some time. Surely there’s no need to rush.”   

Loki’s lips press into a thin line as he stares out over the horizon, his posture stiffening. “A year may seem like a long time,” he says, though the words sound almost forced, as if he is trying to convince himself more than anyone else. “But it’s not. There’s always more to be done. And then, of course, there’s Thor.”   

Y/N’s heart softens as she notices the faint bitterness in his voice. So, it is jealousy, she realizes. He feels overshadowed. She doesn’t say anything about it, though. He isn’t looking for sympathy—she can see that much.   

Instead, she smiles kindly. “I’m sure you will manage, Your Highness. You’re doing your best, and that is all anyone can ask.”   

For a brief moment, their eyes meet, and the usual hardness in his gaze softens just slightly. “Perhaps,” he mutters under his breath.   

Y/N seizes the moment to offer help. “Would you like me to assist with any of the preparations?” she asks, her eagerness slipping through her words. “I may not be able to do much, but if there’s anything I can—”   

Loki raises an eyebrow, scepticism written all over his face. “And how, precisely, do you propose to assist?”   

Y/N smiles gently, though her eyes sparkle with a playful glint. “Well, you won’t know unless you let me try,” she replies. “Give me ten minutes to freshen up, and I’ll be of use in whatever way I can.”   

He sighs, though his eyes soften ever so slightly. It is almost as if he is truly considering her offer. “I never agreed to this,” he mutters.   

“You did,” Y/N says teasingly, her eyes warm. “When you married me and promised to share all your joys and sorrows. The workload is a part of that, is it not?”   

Loki sighs again, but this time, there is the faintest crack in his usual composure. “Do as you please, Princess,” he says, his voice still curt but with less of the usual edge. “What’s the point of asking when you’ve already made up your mind?”   

Y/N grins, her heart lighter than it’s been all morning.   

“I’ll see you in ten minutes, then!” she says, the promise clear in her voice.   

With that, she hurries off, her footsteps echoing softly through the quiet palace halls. She can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, things might not be as distant between her and Loki as they once seemed. And with that thought, she smiles to herself, feeling a small sense of accomplishment that lingers longer than she expects. 

[hawthorne-bias]

echoes in the hall

Bound by duty, Y/N moves through the quiet complexities of a marriage that was never meant to be anything more than a formality. Yet, in the moments of stillness between her and Loki, amid the weight of unsaid words and lingering glances, something subtle begins to stir—something she can’t quite name, but feels deep within her.

When Odin dismisses Loki with his usual coldness, Y/N can feel the quiet tension in her husband, the frustration simmering just beneath the surface of his composed exterior. Then, unexpectedly, Loki asks if she ever wished she had married Thor—a rare crack in his usual armor, a flicker of vulnerability she wasn’t used to seeing.

What started as a union of convenience now unfolds into something deeper—fragile, yet full of promise. In the quiet spaces between them, in the words left unspoken, something new begins to bloom. And perhaps, just perhaps, it holds the hope of something more—if only she, and Loki, have the courage to let it grow.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader Tags: Takes place before the movie 'Thor (2011)'; Arranged Marriage; Slow Burn Romance; Emotional Tension; Unspoken Feelings; Fluff; Developing Relationship; Insecure Loki; Odin's "A+" Parenting (Bad Parent Odin); No Trigger Warnings! Oneshot belonging to the series 'you were never a saint, and I’ve loved you all the same' // Read on AO3 // wc: 1674 [How the heck does this oneshot have the same word count as the previous one? I swear I thought this was gonna be way longer... >:((] A/N: I don't own MCU or its characters! The header is from Pinterest whilst the dividers are from @/adornedwithlight. :) Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! <3

The grand halls of Asgard grow quieter by the minute as the evening wears on, the echoes of footsteps fading into the distance as courtiers and servants make their way home. Only a few remain in the royal palace, finishing up the last of the day's tasks. Y/N and her husband, Loki, are among them, walking in silence as they make their way down the long corridor toward their chambers.  

They had been summoned to Odin’s private audience, where the Allfather’s demeanor had been as gruff and dismissive as ever. His focus had been entirely consumed by the coronation preparations for Thor, and most specifically, by the grand reception he had been orchestrating for Thor’s guests from a distant realm—guests whose importance to Asgard’s reputation, Y/N could not quite fathom. What she did understand, however, was the complete disregard Odin had shown for Loki’s presence. His every word had been directed at the older prince, as if Loki were little more than a shadow in the room, his suggestions and concerns barely acknowledged, let alone considered. Even when Loki had spoken, his words seemed to be brushed aside without a second thought.  

Y/N can see the frustration in her husband’s posture. His eyes are fixed to the floor, his brows furrowed in concentration, his lips pulled into a frown that speaks volumes of his thoughts.  

She walks beside him, maintaining a respectful distance, but the silence between them feels somewhat strained. She wants to reach out, to say something that might ease the tension that lingers in the air. Watching him closely, she notices the weight that seems to cling to him tonight, and she genuinely wants to help, to offer him some small comfort.  

Though it’s true that their marriage is one of formality and duty, Y/N’s feelings for Loki have evolved beyond mere obligation. His sharp intelligence, his wit, his dry humor—it all pulls at her in ways she’s not sure how to explain. They may not have the closeness of a typical marriage, but she has come to realize how deeply she cares about him. Even if she never said it aloud, she hoped that maybe, just maybe, he could feel that too.  

She steals another glance at him, her gaze lingering just a moment longer than usual. His profile, sharp and angular, is a study in contrasts—exquisite and unreadable. He might not know it, but there’s a gentleness in him that Y/N finds herself drawn to. His frown, the way his brow furrows with thought, makes her want to understand him better, to know what’s truly on his mind.  

The silence stretches on, and Y/N begins to feel the weight of the day’s events pressing down on both of them. Then, as if something inside him has finally broken, Loki suddenly turns to her, his voice low, almost questioning.  

“Do you ever wish, Princess,” he asks, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of something she can’t quite place, “that you had married Thor, instead of me?”  

The question hangs in the air between them, and Y/N is so taken aback that her first response is little more than a confused, internal What?  

The next thing that comes out of her mouth is no better: “Huh?”  

Loki stops walking, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looks at her, clearly expecting some kind of reaction. “Forget it,” he says with a small shake of his head, turning away as though dismissing the whole thing.  

But Y/N isn’t ready to let him off so easily. She steps forward, her voice steady but insistent. “No, wait! Please don’t dismiss it. I would like to understand what you mean by that.”  

Loki’s steps falter for a moment, and he glances at her with an edge of frustration in his eyes. “I have urgent matters to attend to,” he says, his voice cold and dismissive, but Y/N won’t relent.  

She catches up with him again, her tone soft but persistent. “Please, Your Highness. Make yourself clear. What are you trying to say?”  

Loki lets out a sharp breath, his shoulders tightening in a way that betrays the fleeting anger he is struggling to suppress. “What I mean is… you must sometimes wish you’d married Thor, don’t you?” he snaps, his voice low but taut. His gaze is fixed on her now, a flicker of emotion breaking through his usual composure. “He’s the crown prince, the one set to be king. Not me. You could have been queen, Princess. You could have had everything.” He looks at her then, and for a brief moment, a flash of bitterness crosses his face. “Instead, you are the wife of the lesser prince.”  

Y/N freezes at his words, her heart sinking at the sharpness of his tone. She has always seen Loki as someone complex, someone who hides behind layers of self-possession, but she hadn’t realized just how much this frustration affected him. Her breath catches, and she feels a pang of sympathy for him, wishing she could say the right thing to ease his burden.  

She steps closer to him, her voice soft but steady. “Who ever told you that you were the lesser prince?” she asks, her tone gentle, but firm with conviction. “Your brother may be crowned king, but that doesn’t make him more capable than you. His birthright alone is what gives him the throne.”  

Loki scoffs, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Nothing has been done, yet they all reach that conclusion all the same, Princess.”  

Y/N shakes her head slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Then they are fools. Their judgment clouded by years of battle and far too much mead.”  

Loki huffs, a quiet laugh escaping him, though it’s brief, as if it’s caught in the back of his throat. Y/N is surprised by how it warms the atmosphere for a moment—something about that laugh feels like a crack in the fortress he’s built around himself.  

She offers him a soft smile, and he meets her gaze for a moment, his eyes not as guarded as they usually are. “I mean it, though,” she continues, her voice a little more playful now. “Your brother may be the golden prince, but he can be too loud, too boisterous for my taste. And besides...” She pauses for a moment, her tone turning a little more thoughtful. “If I were to become Queen after the Allmother…” She trails off for a beat, considering her words carefully. “I would have no time to myself, no personal space. I would be swarmed with court functions, always surrounded by people, expected to make small talk, to smile and speak graciously. The burden of it all would be… stifling.”  

She glances at him, her eyes warm. “I prefer the shadows.” She pauses, then adds with a faint smile, “It’s quiet there. Cool. Peaceful.”  

Loki’s gaze softens for just a moment, though he quickly schools his features. The flicker of something—appreciation, perhaps—passes through his eyes. “You’re not just trying to appease me, are you, Princess?” His voice is light, but there’s an underlying curiosity in it, as if he wants to believe her.  

Y/N gives him a small smile, her tone teasing but sincere. “You’re the God of Lies, Your Highness,” she replies with a small shrug. “I’m certain you’d be able to detect any dishonesty in my words. But I’m not lying. I’m telling you the truth.”  

Loki’s expression remains unreadable, but Y/N senses a subtle shift between them—something she can’t quite place. For once, she doesn’t mind the silence that follows her words. It feels easier now, more at ease than it had before.  

Finally, Loki exhales quietly, his voice softer, but still carrying his usual cool detachment. “Thank you, Princess,” he says, his tone measured, but there’s something else—perhaps a hint of gratitude. “I have matters to attend to with the head of the guards. Forgive me for not being able to escort you to your chambers tonight.”  

Y/N feels an odd sense of disappointment, but she pushes it aside, a small smile curling at the corners of her lips. It’s Loki. His moods shift like the wind, and there’s no reason to take it personally.  

But before he turns away, she can’t help herself. “You don’t mind being married to me, do you, Your Highness?” The question slips out before she can stop it, though she instantly wonders if it was the right thing to ask.  

Loki pauses, his eyes narrowing as he looks at her. There’s a moment of heavy silence before he answers, his voice quiet and somewhat distant. “I must be going, Princess,” he says with a curt nod, then turns and walks away.  

Y/N stands there for a moment, watching him leave, the sting of his sudden departure lingering in her chest. But she shakes her head, trying to push away the feeling. It’s Loki. His thoughts are always a mystery, and she can’t change that.  

That night, as Y/N prepares for bed, she discovers a delicate pair of emerald earrings resting on her vanity. They are unfamiliar to her, yet undeniably beautiful. She picks them up, her fingers brushing the cool surface, her mind spinning with questions. Where have they come from?  

As if on cue, one of the older maids passes by and, with a knowing glance, offers a quiet explanation. “It’s customary for royals to give gifts in their favored color, Princess… to those they hold in high regard.”  

Emerald. The color of Loki’s eyes.  

Her heart skips a beat. She smiles softly to herself.  

Without a word, she carefully returns the earrings to her vanity and goes about her evening. Over the next two weeks, she wears them daily, and Loki never mentions them once. Yet, each time his gaze lingers on them a fraction longer than necessary, something unspoken passes between them—something subtle, but deeply understood.  

And perhaps, just perhaps, that is enough.  

[hawthorne-bias]

loki: it’s terribly cold outside. would you like to hold hands, darling? we should stay close.

you, blushing: o-okay.

tony: it’s fucking summer.

[hawthorne-bias]

loki: i have a plan.

you: does it end in us not getting in trouble?

loki: i said i had a plan, mortal. not a bloody miracle.

[hawthorne-bias]

thor: so, who's the big spoon and who's the little spoon?

you: we're chopsticks!

thor: well... that's cute! does that mean both of you snuggle together perfectly?

loki: no, it means if you take one away, the only thing the other is good for is stabbing.