#been considering opening up a new kind of commission where i specifically draw peoples bathrooms

[codgod]

i’m so out of touch with mcyt at the moment that i didn’t even register wild life as the name of a new traffic season i was like oh cool they’re going on a safari <3 good for them

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 31: New Tastes

Chapters: 31/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Someday) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Reader, Thor(Marvel) Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Loki Is Still Up To His Tricks, Loki Just Wants To Help, It’s Not A Date, Only Two Beds, Loki Is Starting To Realize Summary:   On the night before the proceedings, Loki tries to take your mind off your nervousness with a nice meal, alone together. It's not a date though. Really.

Akureyri was the second largest human settlement in Iceland, and even to a small-town American woman, it didn't seem very big. Bigger than your hometown, but smaller by far than the nearest 'large' city in Iowa; a state famous for its large cornfields, not its population.

The group of you crossed a long bridge over the beautiful fjord, only to find even more protesters on the other side. At the first hint of a waving sign, you found yourself surrounded by horses, Asgardians on all sides. These protesters stayed beside the road, and made no moves to approach, being watched by bored-looking police officers, who also did not move from their spots.

Despite the much more peaceful appearance of these protesters, the Asgardians remained on high alert all the way to the nice hotel, and sent both Valkyries to lead the horses to their own reservations at the nearest stables. The rest of you stowed yourselves away in the restaurant area to await their return.

You were hearing a surprising amount of American English being spoken by the people around you. Either tourism was booming, or they were here for the trial. You never thought that the sound of your homeland's speech would awaken suspicion in you, but you found the Asgardian accents around you to be a barrier to the dread.

“Loki and I will be in one room, Brunnhilde and Borgliot in another, and _____ and Saldis will be in the last.” Thor said, and the chatter around you diminished. You noticed a young woman staring at you, though she looked away when you met her gaze. “Apparently, these were the last rooms available, as a large wave of tourists have arrived for the summer. The receptionist rather helpfully told me that this happens every year, but not quite to this degree.”

“No more mouth.” You tried to say in Asgardian.

“Pardon?” Loki asked, astonished.

“No mouth. No more mouth.” You didn't know how to say it, but when Thor had mentioned their sleeping arrangements, too much of that background English had abruptly stopped. People were obviously listening in, either out of pure curiosity, or for more suspect purposes. You couldn't tell them in English, because everyone would understand, but you didn't have the words in Asgardian yet.

“Mouth? Dear, I don't think...”

You flapped your hand like a puppets mouth, and his expression became understanding. He turned to Thor, speaking swiftly in a language you had never heard. All of the Asgardians seemed to understand, but all you could tell was that it was not Asgardian. They all seemed to agree with what he was saying, Saldis grabbing your luggage and leading you to your shared room.

“We really need to work on your Asgardian, my Seidkona.” She said blandly, as you entered the very nice room.

“Yeah, sorry, I haven't picked up nearly as much as I oughta. Andsvarr tried to teach me some basic stuff, but I don't have nearly his gift for language.”

“It is something he is very good at. It's a shame his father wouldn't let him pursue a scholar's life, but nothing would do for him but that all his sons be in the royal guard.”

“His father is that Alarr guy? He seems, uh....”

“He is a donkey.” Saldis sniffed, hanging your dresses. “Always braying and stepping on other people's feet.”

“Woah. Are you supposed to talk like that?”

“Who is going to tell?”

You started laughing, because it certainly wasn't going to be you, but the laughter turned into a short scream, as Saldis disappeared in a cloud of smoke, to be replaced by a larger figure.

You fumbled for your knife, drawing it just as Loki cleared the smoke.

“Oh dear.” He slowly moved the point of your knife aside with one finger. “Have I startled you?”

“W-what's going on now?” You demanded. “Where's Saldis?”

“With Borgliot.” He said. “We saw fit to reassign our sleeping arrangements. There is simply too much potential for danger, for you to be left with a non-combatant.”

“You understood. Thank goodness.” You sheathed your knife. “Everyone was listening in.”

“Fortunately, no one in that room had the possibility of understanding Vanas. Unfortunately, that included you as well. I regret that we could not tell you what we were about to do, but we had no way to do it without also informing potentially dangerous eavesdroppers.”

“Yeah, well. Okay.” You put your knife away, laying the sheath on an end table.

“You should keep that with you.” Loki suggested.

“I'm in my own hotel room, and it's close by. Besides, I really shouldn't be carrying it here. I'm pretty sure it's super illegal. We came here to see justice done for a crime, so we shouldn't be committing another crime at the same time. So...are you sleeping here now?”

“There's two beds my dear. You needn't fear anything nefarious from me. Well, not much, anyway. Or, do you prefer your servant's company to mine?”

“Well she was putting my dresses away. Looks like now you have to finish that for her.” You quipped.

That might have been a mistake. Loki locked eyes with you, lifting a dress from the luggage, and reverently hanging it next to the others. The next one caught his eye, being green and soft, and sleeveless. You noticed that it had a surprisingly low neckline. Who had put that in there? It was nowhere near warm enough outside to warrant revealing that much skin.

Loki held the dress up to the light to examine, fondling the cloth, taking in all the little details. He then slowly approached you, holding the dress up against your form, as if trying to imagine what it would look like if it were actually being worn.

“Put this on.” He said, voice a soft whisper.

“Wha-now?” You exclaimed. He nodded. “Why? We're not going anywhere.”

“Exactly.”

You sighed and took the dress into the bathroom.

It fit. It fit really well. It also made you look like you belonged on the cover of an old fantasy novel, where everyone was wearing very impractical things to be fighting dragons, but sure looked good. You weren't sure you had seen anyone else in Asgard who showed this much skin.

“I...I don't know if I want to come out.” You called through the door. “I'm kinda embarrassed.”

“I'm sure you've nothing to be embarrassed about.” He called back. “Besides, twice this day you have commanded me as if I were a servant, and I have acquiesced. Come out, and show me the dress.”

You should have known that would come back to haunt you. At least he didn't sound angry. You steeled yourself, and stepped out into the room.

You'd expected a bit of ridicule. Teasing about your figure, or comparison to the graceful and powerful Asgardian women, or even outright dismissal. What you did not expect was for his breath to catch, or for him to fail to hide it. For his eyes to rake over you, or his lips to curl upwards with smug satisfaction.

“Uh...Do you like it?” You asked shyly. The last time you had dressed up privately for a man, he had ended as your emotionally abusive ex.

“Very much.” He said. “I knew I had good taste.”

“You put this in here?”

“No, no. I ordered it made for you, but I did not know it was done yet. We have galas and feasting holidays in the wintertime, and I wanted you to have something appropriate to wear.”

“You call this appropriate?” You asked, gesturing to the distressing neckline, and immediately regretting drawing his eyes back to your chest like that.

“It is not inappropriate, and that is the most important part.” He pointed out. “You would hardly be wearing the most risque thing I've seen at one of these galas.”

“Well, you're a legendary prince, you've probably seen all kinds of things during your fancy dances. Or after...” You halted that train of thought right there. That was none of your business.

The levity left his face as you spoke. “Have I caused offense? You look a vision, my dear, I thought you would see that when you put on the dress. I am not angry about your demands; I found the audacity amusing.”

“No, no, I'm just on edge right now, it's not your fault. I'm probably gonna be all wound up like this until the trial is over. I'm scared of all the people out there, I'm even scared of hearing my own language!”

There was a knock at the door. You jumped, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well, in that case, it's probably a good thing I ordered dinner to be delivered to us.” Loki announced.

Green light flickered at his outlines, his appearance changing until the visage of Saldis stood before you. She wore Loki's expression, winked at you, then opened the door to accept the meal. Once that was done, he resumed his regular form.

“I didn't know you could do that!” You exclaimed. “Must come in handy!”

“You have no idea. Now, have a seat, let us have dinner.”

                                                                                                                                                *****

Loki had known that dress was going to make you into a work of art when he had commissioned it, but he had not counted on just how exquisite the combination of cloth and bashfulness would be. He couldn't wait to show you off at the Buridag gala, but even deeper down than that, he wanted to hide you away so that no one else could see you like this.

He felt that was rather silly of him, considering that everything he had done so far had been specifically so that you would be seen. Seen, and known, and respected.

But he still didn't want anyone else to see this. To see you shy and squirming in a perfect dress of his own devising. Perhaps he was just feeling protective. You had been projecting distress all day, after all, and he wanted to lighten your mood just a little. Make you smile a few times before he had to allow you back into the presence of that murderous human slime.

How he wished you had let him kill the man!

Instead, he set the food down on a little table, and pulled out the chair for you. Producing a gilded candelabra with green candles, he lit them with a spell, and placed it in the center of the table. You mumbled something about the candles being green, but of course they were green, always green, like the verdant living lands, like farms full of food, like forests full of timber. It would always be green, green and gold, the twin colors of prosperity, success, and wealth.

He drew the heavy curtains closed, plunging the room into candlelit darkness. The sun wouldn't set for another month, but here, he could at least create for you a kind of faux night. He even poured the wine for the both of you, having chosen a unique and less powerful variety specifically for you. He still caught you eying it suspiciously.

“I'm told this is a very special wine. Locally made by the only winemaker on the entire island. They called it Kvöldsól, and it is apparently made without any grapes at all, but with wild berries, herbs, and rhubarb instead. I assure you, it is safe for human consumption. In fact, I am told that it is touted as a potent brew for the preservation of youth, driving away the ravages of age with something called anti-oxygen. Which sounds absurd; humans need great quantities of oxygen to live. But perhaps there is something to it?”

Yes, defending you from mortal aging was a worthy cause. It would be nice to keep you around for as long as possible.

“First of all.” You said, a gentle mirth in your voice. “I'm pretty sure it's 'anti-oxidants'. Second, are you implying that you don't?”

​”Not as much as you, perhaps. Does it meet your approval?”

You took an experimental sip.

“Okay, yeah. It's good.”

It wasn't, not by Asgardian standards, but it also was at least a little different from the jumped up peasant fare that was nearly every other Midgardian wine. They were all either so sweet they might as well be desserts, or so dry they were tasteless. This, at least, had the excuse of being made with wild things, and if it was good for your health, he could make sure you had a supply.

Dinner was a charcuterie platter that also boasted a variety of fruits, nuts, crackers, spreads, and local cheeses, as well as what appeared to be one small smoked bird each, and one strip of cooked meat each.

Loki didn't suppose you could identify half of these things, except perhaps, the fruits, considering that most of them came from within Iceland, which you hadn't yet had the chance to see much of yet. He would have to arrange a royal road trip before the summer ended. What a great bonding opportunity that would be; on the road, alone together, learning more and more about what made each other work. He knew you would enjoy exploring, you had proven to be adventurous; even now you were choosing a little bit of everything for your plate, especially the things you were unfamiliar with. He wondered if he should tell you what everything was?

Most of this was finger food, and you ate with relish; it appeared lunch had not stayed with you. The journey through the mountains especially must have been grueling, he'd been able to tell by looking at you, but you had nobly refused help and just urged everyone to continue on.

“You've been so brave through all of this.” He said. “We will be here for a week, but this trial should not last that long. We can use the rest of the time to take a little vacation. There is a lovely botanical garden here in the city; we can get you some plants here, if you like. There are bookstores and museums. There are also shops, and a place to watch the whales swimming, and just across the fjord there is a waterfall to observe. We might be able to visit everything, if you like.”

“That might be nice. I've never seen whales before.” You regarded the little smoked bird and strip of meat with curiosity. They were different from the other fare before them, but you took several experimental bites anyway, and seemed to like them.

“Is this a quail?” You wondered. “It's so little. Tastes kinda weird. Not bad, but a little strange for a bird.”

“I believe this is a puffin. A type of seabird.” He elaborated at your blank expression.

“Like a seagull?” You asked. “You can eat seagulls?”

“Probably. I assume you can eat any kind of bird, they are all made of bird-flesh.”

“Eew, don't say bird-flesh.”

Loki held out his phone to you, having brought up a photo of a puffin.

“Ohhh, it's so cute!” You exclaimed. “Those live here? I think I'd rather see them than eat them.”

“I believe they used to be common fare, but now they only serve them to tourists. And visiting dignitaries, of course.”

“Okay, well I'll eat this one, because I don't like food to go to waste, but I think I'll stick with chicken from now on.”

“At least they understood our status when they sent us the sheep cheeks.” Loki said cheerfully, pointing at the strip of cooked meat. He had been rather impressed by the level of respect their hosts had shown by including it.

A bite stopped in midair, halfway to your mouth. “Uhhh...”

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

“I've just, uh, never eaten the cheeks off something before.”

Loki laughed quietly. “Of course not! That's kings fare. You would never have even seen such a delicacy. Meat from the head of the animal is always the best part, so it goes to the royal table. Unless, of course, you hunted the animal down yourself. So I suppose that's one way in which a peasant and a king might experience the same thing.”

“Don't like to waste food...” You muttered.

It was rather baffling to Loki, modern humans conceptions of what was good to eat. Granted, it seemed to change from region to region, but it seemed like, no matter where one went, there was some form of food that the locals turned their noses up at.

Perhaps he shouldn't judge too harshly. Some people simply couldn't digest certain things. Loki himself had some trouble with root vegetables. They sat like lead on his stomach, and made his bowels twist. Most people chalked it up to the pronounced pickiness of the nobility, but Loki could put forth his own guesses. Namely, that there was no such thing as a 'root vegetable' on Jotunheim.

He could change his face, but he couldn't change everything.

He still couldn't bring himself to tell you. Not yet. Certainly not now, when you had other things looming large in your mind. Later. When you returned home in triumph, and peace was restored.

Maybe.

It occurred to Loki that he had never actually told anyone of his true heritage himself. Odin and Frigga had always known. Odin had told Thor, and Thor had then told Brunnhilde and his Midgardian companions. And Loki had indirectly told all of Asgard, through the commission of his play, although that was after he had supposedly died a hero, and become beyond reproach.

But he'd never had to look someone else in the face and say to them with his own mouth 'I am a Jotun'.

It felt like admitting to a crime.

But it was not his crimes that were important here. The courthouse called, bright and early tomorrow morning. With any luck, this would all be over quickly and easily.

The time came to sleep, and Loki was as good as his word; he kept his back turned until you were changed and under your blankets, before turning out the lights and settling into his own bed.

As your breathing slowed, Loki allowed himself the tiny illicit thrill of imagining himself lying next to you, peacefully cuddling. Nothing inappropriate, nothing questionable, just gently holding you.

Loki knew that he liked touching you. He didn't put much thought into it; it was obviously because of the magical bond between you. His touch healed your body, your touch soothed his spirit. It seemed obvious.

He was not going to question a good thing right now.

Loki snuggled his other pillow, but it wasn't nearly as soft and warm as he imagined you to be.