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Summary: Loki transforms into you while you have your back turned away. And he falls in love all over again. [WC 711][Ao3]
Request: @samanddeansannoyingsis Loki shifting to look like reader and just loving how soft and plush she is. Always wrapped up in her little sweaters and leggings. And suddenly he understands how beautiful she is.
Warnings: fluff, supportive loki
Loki had meant for it to be a joke. A harmless little trick. That was how it started, anyway.
You had wandered off to the kitchen in one of your usual cozy outfits—an oversized sweater that fell off one shoulder and soft leggings that hugged your legs. The Avengers Tower was quiet that afternoon, most of the team gone on missions or errands.
And Loki… well. Loki was bored. So naturally, mischief followed. A shimmer of green magic flickered around him in the hallway mirror as he altered his form. Not into Captain America. Not into Thor. Not into some intimidating warrior prince. No. Into you.
At first he grinned at his reflection. Your face stared back at him—your eyes, your mouth, the little crease between your brows when you were thinking too hard. “Hm,” he murmured, tilting his head. The voice was yours too. Softer than his. Warmer. Curious, Loki reached down and touched his—your—arm. And paused. “…Soft.”
His brows furrowed slightly as his hands wandered experimentally. The sweater sleeves hung over his hands. The knit was thick and warm, the sort of thing meant for curling up on a couch rather than ruling kingdoms. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers. Comfortable. Then he shifted again, touching his stomach. Your stomach. There was a softness there. Plush, warm, yielding beneath his palm in a way that startled him. He squeezed lightly. “…Oh.” Another squeeze.
Then a thoughtful hum. You had always described yourself with such cruel words. Too soft. Too much. Too plumpy. Yet standing there in your shape, Loki found himself… fascinated. His hands traced over the curve of your hips next. The softness of your thighs. The gentle weight of your body. It was warm. Real. Alive in a way sculpted warriors and statuesque Asgardians rarely were.
“You are built for comfort,” he murmured to the mirror, sounding almost reverent. He shifted his weight and the leggings stretched pleasantly as he moved. Flexible. Soft. Practical.
And suddenly— Suddenly he understood something that had puzzled him for months. Why he loved watching you curl up on the couch. Why your sweaters made him want to wrap his arms around you. Why the sight of you bundled in blankets made something strange and protective stir in his chest.
Because this body— Your body— Was made for warmth. For holding. For softness. His hands rested on the curve of your stomach again, thumbs rubbing lightly. “How have you convinced yourself this is anything but beautiful?” he murmured quietly.
Footsteps approached. Loki didn’t notice until you walked into the hallway and froze. Because standing in front of the mirror… Was you. Except the other you was poking thoughtfully at their stomach.
Your eyes widened. “…Loki?”
He turned. Your own face looked back at you with a slightly guilty expression. “Oh,” he said. Then he looked down at himself again, poked your stomach once more, and added thoughtfully, “I believe I owe you an apology.”
You blinked. “For what??”
“For not realizing sooner how lovely you are.”
You stared.
He gestured vaguely to himself. “This form is extraordinarily comfortable.”
“YOU ARE WEARING MY BODY LIKE A SWEATER.”
“And it is a very nice sweater.”
You marched forward, cheeks burning. “Turn back right now!”
Instead he tilted his head, examining you carefully. Then smiled. Slow. Fond. “Oh no,” Loki said softly. “I rather think I prefer you this way.”
Your brain short-circuited. “…What?”
His magic flickered, dissolving the illusion. Suddenly Loki stood in front of you again—tall, dark-haired, impossibly smug. But his hands moved immediately to your waist. Warm. Firm. Drawing you against him. Exactly where he’d just discovered he liked you most.
His arms wrapped around your soft middle like he had every right to be there. “You are warm,” he murmured against your temple. Your face felt like it might combust. “And soft.”
“…Loki.”
“And perfectly shaped for holding.” You tried to hide your face in his chest. He just hugged you tighter. “You should see yourself as I just did,” he added quietly. Because now he knew. Now he had felt it. Your warmth. Your softness. The way your body fit perfectly against someone who adored you. Loki pressed a kiss to your hair. “Magnificent.”
soulmate first words au where Simon grew up with the words “oh my god, please, don’t.” plastered across his arm in dark black ink. since the moment he could read, he’d been terrified of what that meant. he’d heard those words from him mother enough times when his dad came home drunk and swinging fists towards anything that moved, he’d heard them in back alleys while undercover, some poor woman being groped by a man twice her size, and he’d even heard it once or twice from the poor fucker he’d put a bullet in after interrogations gone wrong. Every time he flinches, wondering if that was his one shot at something good he’d just killed in cold blood. Fitting, for a bastard like him, or so he told himself.
It wasn’t until a night off with the team in some sweaty, sticky bar that he runs into you. As much as he tries to ignore the girl on a shitty date who keeps pushing the man’s hands off her ass and fake laughing at his boring jokes, it grates at him for reasons he can quite grasp. Later, he’ll catch the tail end of a screaming match outside the bar. One that has your date storming off, and you sinking onto the grimy concrete in your nicest outfit. He’ll watch from the shadows, flicking the ash off a cigarette before finally saying, “Want me to kill him for ya?” and when your eyes shoot up to the stranger in disbelief he tacks on, “free of charge.”
He almost can’t make it out through your laughter, wet with lingering tears. “oh my god, please, don’t.” you chuckle, “i wouldn’t last a day in prison.” between the burning on his arm, exactly where those dreaded words are, and the way the air feels like it’s been punched straight from his lungs, simon can’t muster up a reply fast enough.
You, on the other hand, have a smile slowly forming as you rub your own burning mark. “Do you know how worried my parents were when they saw what this said? They put me in preemptive therapy and everything. Thought I’d end up in a gang or something.” The man reaches a hand out, offering to help you stand. “You’re not are you? In a gang I mean?”
Another puff of smoke leaves his lips in what you think might have been the beginning of a laugh. “No, military. Close enough, though.”
Dusting yourself off, you sneak a closer look at the shadowed stranger. your soulmate, a voice inside flutters with childish glee. “Well damn, there go all my mob wife aspirations.”
He sighs, and steps closer to you, just within the light of a flickering street lamp. Now, you can make out his features. Scars cover every inch of exposed skin, twisting and mangling what might have once been a fair face. Under your gaze, he waits cautiously, “Sorry to disappoint.” A double meaning you catch immediately.
You motion back to the bar the both of you had been in earlier, then close your fingers around his with a tug, “Make it up to me, then?”
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There's a crazy tradition at the coffee shop you work at. New employees get a bucket of coffee dumped on their heads before they come in the door. Most times it's taken in stride–you laughed hysterically when it happened to you–though some people have quit on the spot because not everyone likes being soaked in dark roast Arabica at six-thirty in the morning.
However, you've all made a terrible mistake. For the first time ever, a nonhuman has been hired to work at the shop. Not just any nonhuman, a moth hybrid! You realize the problem too late, and before you can even open your mouth, the poor hybrid has been doused with the bucket of coffee.
Everyone else realizes what has happened seconds later, and gasps rise as you all stare at the new employee. You saw him yesterday when he came out of your boss's office. He was so pretty, his white fur mottled with ochre and grey and edged with black spots and patterns. Now, he is completely soaked, leaving him looking awkward and gangly, his fluff all clumped up thanks to the coffee.
He looks up and sees all of you standing there, gaping at him. He pulls his coffee-speckled glasses off his face, blinking mournful liquid-black eyes.
"Um," he says slowly, looking confused.
"Oh my god!" You finally burst out. "Oh nooo... We're so sorry! It's a tradition, we do it with all the new employees. None of us realized–"
"Quick," a colleague whispers to you. "Take him to the backroom, maybe if he rinses off fast enough it won't stain."
You pretty much drag the moth hybrid with you, apologizing profusely each step of the way.
"I realized a second too late, or I would have stopped the whole thing," you say as you park him in the tiled section of the backroom where you clean bigger pieces of equipment.
"The water is warm," you tell him, before dashing off to get the handsoap from the bathroom.
When you return, you ask him if he's okay with using it, apologizing some more. He seems caught off guard by what just happened, simply standing there with his antennas twitching as you quickly lather him up and then rinse with warm water, frowning as brown water runs down the drain.
"I think it has stained your fur a little," you say. "Again I'm so sorry–"
"It's not a big deal, it's nothing a shower or two won't fix," he says gently. "But thank you for apologizing."
You sigh and lean back to look him over.
"Maybe one more pass?" You murmur to yourself, once again sinking your soapy fingers into his thick fur, scrubbing valiantly.
He doesn't protest. He stands there quietly, embarrassed and a little turned on. It's not your fault that you don't know grooming is a very intimate thing with his kind. He wanted to tell you before you started, but you were talking a mile a minute and then you touched him and he forgot how to speak...
*btw I stole this idea from Guardians of the Galaxy iykyk*
“You halted our departure for… this?” Loki’s eyebrow quirks up and he points to the iPod in your hand. It’s only about the size of a thumb and green with a metal clip on the back. It has one button and technically, it a toggle. You nod and put one earbud in your ear as Fooled Around and Fell in Love plays through the auxiliary earbuds.
“What does this device do?” He asks and you place it into his hand. “It plays music. Right now it’s holding around 250 songs,” you say and his eyebrows raise.
Slowly, you take the other earbud and put it up to his ear, hands almost moving without your own permission. You watch his face as you do and he makes no move to stop the motion.
You gently lodge it into his ear canal and watch his face as he listens to the song. “Ah, I see,” he says as you nod and smile.
“Music is very important to you?”
He tilts his head downwards, blue eyes meeting yours.
“Everything I do, I do with music playing somehow,” you say, unable to stop the smile that takes over your face.
“You like it?”
Loki nods very subtly, “it is not unpleasant.”
His tone is matter of fact but you have yet to see him so agreeable so you continue despite your own growing anxiety.
“Do you have music on Asgard?” You ask and he nods. “String quartets and symphonies, yes,” he says and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he probably thinks orchestral sounds are more refined.
“But this is very nice, I like this a great deal.”
You meet his eyes again and nod, feeling that tightening in your stomach intensifying at his gaze on you.
“What is the name of this song?”
“It’s called Fooled Around and Fell in Love,” he nods and flips the iPod around in his hand. “I quite like it.”
He leans in even closer and your lungs stutter, holding your breath as he brings his face into yours, eyes slowly fluttering closed. You can feel his warm breath on your lips.
Just before contact can be made, Thor pulls the sliding glass door open and stomps out. Loki backs away quickly, pulling out the earbud and looking to his brother.
“Brother! They have finished their work on the ship that can take us back home!” Thor says and you feel your chest nearly cramping.
Home.
Loki looks back to you, now with fondness in his eyes, lips parted before looking back to his brother as if not knowing quite what to say.
“I will be inside in a moment, brother.”
Thor nods with apprehension, looking between the two of you as if trying to decipher the nature of what is going on before he reluctantly walks back inside.
“Back to Asgard then?” You ask and he nods, looking down at the iPod now in your hand before looking back up at you.
You pause the song and wrap the earbuds around the the device before handing them to him. “Here, keep it,” you say and he shakes his head.
“You put yourself in danger for this device, I cannot possibly-“
You interrupt him before he can finish, shaking your head. “It’s okay, the music is also saved on another device. I can buy a new one, Loki. Keep it,” you push his hand back with the device and the earbuds in it.
Maybe if he listens to music from Earth he won’t think we’re so inferior.
“Are you certain?” He asks.
“Yeah of course. And if you ever come back, I can put new songs on it too,” you say with a shrug.
Stupid, he’s going to think you’re doing this so he will come back.
“Good, that will give me an excuse to return.” Your shoulders relax at that. “You have been much kinder to me than I deserve,” he says solemnly, looking between the iPod and your eyes.
“Everyone deserves kindness,” is all you can manage to say and his eyes soften. You watch as he struggles to respond. As if there is something he wants to say that he decides against at the last minute.
“Until we meet again,” he says with a nod and looks between you and the sliding glass door. You nod and watch him leave the balcony.
I have this habit with my boyfriend where I softly call him pet names, just because. Simply cause I love knowing he exists.
And I'm sure many people do that as well.
A soft "hey~", "baby~", "мило~", just to get their attention and say nothing.
So let's CoD-ify it.
How the CoD men respond when you softly call out to them... just because
Simon "Ghost" Riley
You go:
“Baby~”
His automatic response:
“Yeah?”
You:
“Nothing. I just like saying it.”
And you continue:
“Hey~” “Love~” “Baby~”
He doesn’t stop what he’s doing as you call him, but you’ll notice:
his shoulders loosen
his voice gets lower when he answers
his replies get shorter but warmer
Eventually he'll say:
“…You done?”
But he’s smiling.
He pretends to be mildly inconvenienced, but this absolutely grounds him.
It’s white noise affection, and Simon loves white noise.
Later, when you stop, he’ll be the one who suddenly says:
“Oi.”
Just to get you to answer.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Keegan P. Russ
Keegan folds immediately.
Every time you say:
“Baby~”
He answers with more enthusiasm than necessary:
“Yeah?” “What’s up?” “Mm?”
When you admit you just like saying it, he laughs:
“You’re killin’ me.”
And then he starts echoing you:
mimicking your tone
making it playful
throwing pet names back at you out of nowhere later
This turns into a feedback loop. He loves the attention, loves the affection, and loves that you’re keep calling out to him, even when nothing’s happening.
He absolutely escalates this into physical affection eventually.
♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧
König
König's reaction is slower, but more aware.
Each time you say:
“Mausi~” “Hey~”
He answers calmly:
“Ja?” “Hm?”
When you say you just like saying it, he pauses, focus on you.
You’ll feel him start to watch you more closely. Curious. Fond.
After the third or fourth time, he’ll say something like:
“You don’t need a reason.”
And he’ll pull you closer without breaking whatever he was doing.
Eventually, he might quietly say your name back, just once, but in the same soft cadence.
That’s his version of reciprocation.
◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇
Non-traumatized Nikto
Nikto answers every time.
No irritation. No confusion. Just:
“Yes?” “Mm?” “Da?”
When you admit you just like saying it, he tilts his head slightly. Observes.
Then:
“Say it again.”
Direct. Because he likes hearing it. (He'll never admit this)
As this becomes a habit, you'll see he:
stays closer
he touches you more casually
he answers faster
Later, when you’re quiet for a while, he’ll test it:
Based off that TikTok trend of telling your partner you saw a bird
Steve:
As you come back from patrol, you sit down next to him on the couch.
"How'd it go?" he asks with a mix of his usual concern and curiosity.
"Nothing interesting," you smile, "Except I saw a bird."
"A bird?" he leans in with more interest, smiling softly. You always noticed the little things. It was one of his favorite things about you. "A pigeon or something more interesting?"
"A pigeon," you shrugged, "I gave it the rest of my fries."
"Of course you did," he smiled back at you, "Your heart's even too big even when it comes to pigeons."
A few days later, the two of you take a walk in Brooklyn, where he makes sure to buy some extra fries after.
Natasha:
"Anything important noted on patrol?" she asks, not even looking up from her paperwork.
"Yes," you nodded forcing yourself to keep the most serious tone you could muster, "I saw a bird."
Nat looks up with a face that says she's already had enough today, having to deal with all the others' shenanigans, "A bird? I don't see how that's of any importance to the mission."
"I thought it may be worth noting," you held back a laugh, "I even filled out a report."
Finally, she realizes you're messing with her, rolling her eyes to get back to work. "Next time, focus on the task at hand." Yet, you can't help but notice the small reluctant smile on her lips.
Thor:
"A bird?" he looks intrigued, leaning in more with enthusiasm. "Was it a raven? It could be a message from Asgard! Tell me, where was this bird?"
"A message from Asgard?" you asked, now confused.
"Yes! Ravens are what we use to send messages to each other," he explained, before growing more excited, "We should set up raven for each other! So we can send a quick message!"
"Uh...I think texting could work," you respond, but can't help but feel warm at the thought he was essentially, in Asgard terms, wanting your number. "Talk about tweeting. Literally."
Tony gives a half-hearted laugh at the pun from across the room as Thor bursts into hearty laughter before he leans in to whisper, "I don't get the joke."
Wanda:
"What kind of bird?" There's a soft smile on her lips as she pauses the I Love Lucy binge-watch she was on. Honestly, you weren't surprised. Wanda did always care for the little things.
"A finch," you responded, "At least I think it was."
"Is this bird...important?" she asked quizzically, "To you?" You gave a short nod.
A familiar buzz of magic filled the air with a red glow, which quickly turned into an illusion of a finch flying around the bedroom.
Bruce:
"A bird? What kind?" Bruce looks up from his notes, immediately curious as always.
"Uhhh...I think it was red," you said, feigning confusion, knowing he would spend the rest of the afternoon trying to figure it out.
"Sounds like a cardinalis cardinalis," he pondered out loud, "They're pretty common to northern regions, although with their nesting patterns..."
As expected, he went straight to research, and for the next week, you were getting texts full of research articles, nesting patterns, and even an invitation to a bird watching organization.
For Bruce, it was his way of saying he cared.
Tony:
"Why are you telling me this?" Tony was hours deep into fixing a few issues with the iron suit, "Unless the bird took a dump on Steve's head, I don't want to hear about it."
"I just thought you might be interested," you sat on the edge of the workbench before adding sarcastically, "Sorry for wasting my breath on you again."
Sure, you knew Tony wasn't exactly the warm and fuzzy type, but lately all this stress was making him into even more of a jerk.
Tony paused, ready to give another sarcastic remark, when he sighed, putting the tablet aside and taking a seat beside you.
"What kind of bird was this again?
Bucky:
"You saw a bird?" Bucky raised an eyebrow, equally amused and annoyed. You were always asking the most random questions. "Doll, why would I need to know about a bird?"
You stifled a laugh at his grumpy expression, carefully hiding your phone for the video.
"I just wanted to tell you I saw a bird on patrol today."
"Fine, I'll humor you," he looked over at you, trying keep cold instead of how weirdly endearing he found all this. Why did he feel this way around you lately even when you were acting strange again?
"What sort of bird was it?"
Then his eyes landed on the phone. It wasn't much use hiding it from a former assassin.
Burying his face in his hand, he groaned, "Is this one of those trend things again?"
"Yup," you smiled, "It's a TikTok trend!"
"What's TikTok?"
"Gosh, you're so old"
Sam:
"Ohhh, let me guess?" he nodded, grinning, "It was a falcon! I get the joke."
Of course, he would think it was a joke! Could he take anything seriously? You had been working with him for over a year now as a fellow winged air rescue Avenger, and not one day had passed without him making a joke of everything. Although not a day had passed that he hadn't at least tried to make you feel better, especially on the hard days.
"Unfortunately, it wasn't," you responded, "It was just a regular bird. Not everything's a joke, Sam."
"Wait, so it's not a joke?" he leaned in a bit, "Then what's this about?"
"I don't know," you shrugged, "I just wanted to tell you."
For a moment, he looked confused, then worried, before it morphed into something else.
"Good, I thought you were going to start using puns now," he laughed before turning more serious, "Although, you've got your eye on falcons instead of other birds, right?"
"Always got my eyes on the sky with you."
Loki: (fun bonus!)
"A bird?" he gave a dramatic sigh, "This is getting to be painfully dull."
Over the past few weeks, Loki was on probation here, and as the newest member of the team, you had to keep an eye on him. Lately, you enjoyed annoying him with online trends and silly pranks. Asking him this definitely had nothing to do with overhearing Thor mention he hadn't seen his brother happier in so long than after he spent time with you. Nope! Nothing at all.
"Although," Loki began, a wicked grin on his face as he stole a glance at you, "Unlike most mortals, you're interesting and not incompetent like the rest of this team. If you're interested in a tiny bird, I'm sure it's of some significance. Although if this is another one of your pranks, I'll have you know that getting on a god's bad side is never a good idea. So tell me, what does this bird look like?"
The next morning, a small bird appeared at your windowsill, before vanishing as if it had been only an illusion sent by a certain someone
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jan 4 “here’s another curse. may all your bacon burn.”
written for january jumble scribbles | masterlist here !
fandom: loki (marvel) | pairing: loki/gn!reader
tags: dramatic loki, patient reader | tw/cw: none - ask to tag | word count: 299!!!
"what was that?" you ask.
you had heard him just fine the first time, even over the quiet sizzle of the frying pan.
but you were generous, already two cups of coffee into the morning, and figured there was no harm in offering him a chance to rephrase what was already said.
"i said, here's another curse: may all your bacon burn."
you open your mouth. close it. furrow your brows as if to try to make sense at his doubling down.
"honey. the bacon is for you," you reply, taking your eyes off of the pan to cast a sidelong glance his way. "and the kitchen isn't cursed to begin with."
he sips his coffee, as if it's the perfect response.
"are you mad because some eggshells fell in?"
"no."
"loki."
"i was trying to help. i was betrayed by poultry."
you sniff, trying to hide the laughter at how genuinely he felt wronged after cracking eggs to scramble. "it was a valiant effort."
loki makes a pathetic sound. a whine, or a groan; it's hard to narrow down. he pushes himself off of the counter he was leaning against, stepping into your space in front of the stove top.
you don't mind meeting him in the middle. not when the morning was still so quiet.
placing the tongs to the side of the stove, and being careful to not disrupt the pan, you lean back, enough to brush against his chest. loki slides his arms around you, immediately swooping into the invitation.
a few moments pass, and you let loki's bruised ego soothe.
"take it back," you say, once you feel the tension ease out of his body.
loki hums, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.
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John "keep it professional, sergeant." Price who insists on keeping his work and personal life strictly separated. Nevermind the fact he's married to his job and refuses to acknowledge the matching bands on your hands while on base. You make the mistake of calling him 'babe' during a meeting and get lectured about professionalism and safety for two hours. He loves you immensely, but he refuses to let it affect your jobs.
Vs
Simon "your callsign should be mutt lol." Riley who is just as married to his job but knows there's no way to keep it separate....this does lead to him openly flirting with you over comms and making wildly in appropriate jokes or groping you in front of others. You don't mind, but you swear he'll get written up if he tries to fuck you in prices office again.
kianamaiart
turnnoffyourmind
annaxmalina
titsay
