#yes this is about httyd I agree it looks fine but I don't get why?? why remake something that's already so good??

[kuwupikaa]

Can we stop with this live action trend please😭

[bloodiedrogue]

✒️ hello my dear! could i ask for a drabble inspired by this song where basically loki courts asgardian!reader with huge gifts and promises but they don't really need that, just his love? I just want something really sweet and happy. okay, love you, byeeee <3

first off, love you, hi <3

second, okay, i absolutely love httyd so when you requested this i only slightly screamed. that being said though, i really don't know if i did this justice??? ahhh i hope it's okay. i changed a couple of things to make it easier for my brain to write but hopefully you still like it???

also to anyone reading this, if you'd like your very own fic feel free to read this post and then send in a request!

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WHO TOLD YOU?

PAIRINGS: Loki Laufeyson & Asgardian Female Reader

SUMMARY: There's always rumors circulating throughout the kingdom of Asgard, but what happens when one turns out to be about you?

WORD COUNT: 2,165

WARNINGS: Literally none???

-

There’s talk amongst the kingdom, as per usual. A rumour of sorts running through the land’s highest families. Like always, you’re completely unaware of who starts it. As well as who it goes through as it ultimately falls onto the ears of your cousin Mads who tells you about it during archery practice. 

As you move to pull back your bow, you notice how low his voice is. How his eyes slightly narrow into tight slits as they survey the area, making sure none of the maids are within hearing distance. “Odin’s finally pawning off the frost giant,” he whispers, just before you take your shot, making you momentarily slip and send the arrow flying way too low. 

Angrily, you curse under your breath as it happens, hearing your cousin snort and proceed to take his own, landing it perfectly in the centre circle of the dummy just fifty yards away.

“Cheater.”

  Ignoring your claims, he knocks his next arrow with ease. “It’s not my fault you’re blinded by love.” 

“I’m not blinded by love,” you scoff, your eyes rolling practically to the back of your head as you watch him take another near-perfect shot. “I’m just… surprised.”

“Why?”

You shrug your shoulders and look around. So far none of the help has suddenly appeared like they usually do, leaving you thankful as you knock your next arrow. “That Loki would agree to it.”

“Agree to it?” Mads laughs.

“What?”

“You and I both know it’s not a matter of agreeance. It’s a matter of peace.”

“Ah yes, the Odinson’s, a family known for their abundance of peace,” you mock, instantly feeling a twang of anxiety build in your chest once you realize what you’ve just said. “I mean, I uh—“

“Relax. I’m not going to storm the castle and tattle on you for insulting our beloved king,” he assures, watching as you look at the target in front of you, honing in on the centre, before taking a deep breath and pulling back the bow in one tight motion. 

“You can just do it yourself once you move in.”

Your arrow shoots directly into the ground a couple of feet in front of you. Again, you curse, this time much louder, drawing in the attention of Tora -your lady in waiting- who’s suddenly scurrying up the path with worry in her eyes. 

“I swear to—“

“Is everything alright, m’lady?” Tora, the living embodiment of fear itself, runs to your aid without question, causing you to sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Yes Tora,” you drone.  

“Are you sure? You seem awfully distressed. Can I get y—��

You open your mouth to respond but Mads beats you to the punch. “She’s fine, Tora. Just a tad ticked that I keep upstaging her archery skills.” 

If it wasn’t for the shock of the informational bomb he’d just dropped, you would’ve pounced on him then and there, elegance be damned. Instead, though, you merely just glare and listen to Tora as she lets out a sigh of relief before apologizing and taking her leave. 

“If I wasn’t required to uphold a certain standard in public you’d be on your ass right now.”

“I highly doubt that, princess.” 

Princess. Norns, you want to kill him. Right here, right now you want to pull back your arrow and pierce it right through his thick skull. 

“You know false gossip is frowned upon.”

“Yes, but who are we to say what’s true or false?” Ever the annoyance, he nudges your elbow with his, wiggling his brows in such a mocking way you feel your chest start to ache with uncertainty because there’s no way this information is real. Sure, the prospect of Loki being married off could be probable. He’s at that age where people are starting to question his marital status but he’s… Loki. Your friend. There’s no way they would’ve chosen you. 

“Who told you?”

“Who do you think told me?” he scoffs. 

Immediately, you feel like a fool for asking, already well aware that it was his sister, Freydis. 

“Where is she?”

Before Mads can even shrug you’re dropping your bow and racing to her quarters, feeling your heart begin to race as you run up the path, motioning for Tora to stay put. Reluctantly she does, giving you a nervous look as you tell her you’ll be back soon even though you’re not entirely sure. Freydis is often selective when it comes to information. Being one of the biggest keepers of it, she can be quite fickle regarding trust, especially with something as serious as the future of the king’s son.

It makes you nervous about what’s to come —thinking about the possible results. 

For example, if it is true, what do you even do? How do you process? It’s not as if you can, really. Arranged marriages like these, as you’ve often witnessed, tend to go from zero to one hundred at the drop of a hat, leaving both parties too exhausted to deal with the consequences beforehand. Plus, knowing Loki it’s not as if he’d be willing to share his thoughts on the matter. 

Considering he’s always been closed off, even throughout your constant years of friendship, he’d most likely just grin and bear it for publicity's sake. Play the part of the loving husband. Hold your hand, kiss your cheek —make sure the world knows you’re his and no one else’s. 

To the people you’d be the perfect couple, but to you?

There’s an inkling of pain that resides throughout your chest once you think about the alternative. That instead of you it’s perhaps some other woman being thrown recklessly into his chambers. Somehow it fills you with dread as you round the corner of the path, your mind moving at such high speeds trying to figure out how you should react that you don’t even process the body that’s crashing into you. 

At first, it hits you —knocks the air right out of your lungs as you fall prone— but then it hits you. Like a freight train, your innermost thoughts rush out of you as you look up to see Loki’s wide eyes staring at you from above. 

“Is it true?” 

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just looks at you, settling on the vision of your dishevelled appearance before him. 

“Lo?” you ask again, feeling his hand extend to meet your own once he realizes you’re still on the ground. Without protest you take it, feeling the coolness of his skin mix with the heat of your own as he pulls up, asking if you’re alright. 

“I’m fine, thank you,” you say, watching him stand there, hands now at his sides. His fingers rub against each other nervously as he looks around the path, avoiding your gaze entirely. 

“Loki, is it—“

  “Yes.”

“Yes?”

He nods, finally making eye contact. “Who told you?”

You’re tempted to lie in case there are consequences but ultimately admit the truth. “Mads… but to be fair it was Freydis who was the first in our family to find out.” 

As expected, Loki shakes his head. “Course it was.”

“Obviously it’s a mystery as to how she found out,” you blurt out, your nerves suddenly becoming more apparent the longer you look at him. 

He’s wearing his nicest leathers today. The ones that hug his frame just right. Across his skin, he’s adorned himself in all his usual colours, dark greens with charcoal and hints of gold. Like usual his hair is pushed back behind his ears, dangling just beneath in a way that somehow seems different despite how standard it is for him. 

“You uh, you look nice today.” 

Your words throw him off for a moment, his face screwing up in confusion until he eventually looks down and realizes. “Oh, yes, right. Thank you. So do you.”

Like him, you look down to see your archery gear covered in dirt from the fall. “Only the best set of pants for my future, uh…”

“Husband?” he offers, a cautious grin plastered across his face. 

Just the sight fills you with a certain warmth you’re not entirely sure you’ve felt before. Your hands, already covered in sweat seem to double in perspiration the second you see the slight embarrassment in his eyes and the way he immediately searches your face for an approval you don’t know how to give. 

An approval you’re desperate to offer despite the circumstances. Despite you and him and this whole new arrangement, you have to navigate. It’s odd, really. Surreal. This idea that two people being forced to spend the rest of their lives together at the expense of someone else’s gain. 

It’s barbaric, isn’t it? 

You’ve always been the kind of person that agreed with the notion of freedom. That, regardless of an individual's nobility they should be able to choose the person they love over everything else. Things like shared resources and politics shouldn’t be a factor in one’s future marriage. 

And yet, the longer you stand there, thinking about it —this idea of you and him and everything that’s suddenly been thrust upon you— the less awful it sounds. Because despite everything, Loki as a whole is good. He’s kind and smart and albeit, a bit of a troublemaker but in your experience never at the expense of your happiness. In fact, he’s always treated you well. Respecting you in ways that other people hadn’t. Growing up, he never saw you as this woman being trained to wed a higher man to bring further respect to her family. He only saw you as you, a rarity nowadays. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You just did,” he jokes.

You give him a half-happy, half-annoyed look once you realize that despite the awkwardness, everything between you is still okay. Still normal, in a way.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean, obviously your father’s pretty strict about arrangements but if you’re not comfortable —if you’ve got your eyes set on someone else I’m sure we could—“

He doesn’t interrupt you. Instead, he merely shakes his head and smirks, causing your words to fall to the back of your throat as you nervously swallow, watching him motion toward your hand. 

Without protest you offer it up, feeling your fingers twitch in the air until they’re being steadied by his own. 

“Honestly, I’m a bit irritated I didn’t get to be the bearer of bad news,” he tells you, and before you can even think of a clever response, you end up snorting and averting your gaze, feeling a wave of embarrassment as his thumb runs lightly along the base of your fingers. “I got all dressed up to tell you and everything.” 

As he speaks he takes a small step closer, watching the way your gaze continues to shift around the path, focusing on the grass or the trees or really, anything other than him. 

“I even skipped out on training with Thor and the others.” 

“That’s, uh, very… nice of you.”

You can feel his eyes boring holes into the side of your face. His pupils are impenetrable, staring at you like two black holes just waiting to pull you in. Desperately, you want to look at them —to memorize the way they dilate and constrict with every action and reaction. 

“I came to ask you something, if I may?”

This time you give in, noticing the slight growth of his eyes once yours make contact. Suddenly, they look lighter, filling his face with a newfound warmth as he pokes out his tongue to nervously lick his lips before clearing his throat. 

“If it’s alright, I’d like to do this. Properly.”

“Properly?”

“Yes, properly. And not because Odin said so or because it’s the right thing do to politically. No, I—I want to do this because slowly I’ve come to realize that it’s what I want. Th—that you’re one I want.”

You open your mouth to speak but pause, noticing his other hand come up into the air between you. In it, his sedir flickers for a moment before pulsing brightly, prompting you to scrunch up your face in confusion when, barely a second later, a small wooden box appears before his palm. 

It’s made of ash, you notice, leaning it to scan the etchings that overtake the top. It’s simple in design but beautiful nonetheless, its presence leaving you almost breathless as you glance back up to Loki who’s suddenly smiling again. 

“It’s not much,” he says. “To be fair, I probably should’ve waited and got you something a bit better but I promise if you say yes I’ll get you everything. A horse, a castle, the finest gowns with the softest fabrics you’ve ever touched, the most delicious—”

Before he can even finish you’re closing the space between the two of you, ignoring the box in his hand in order to squeeze him tight and tell him you could care less about the gifts. 

-

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