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justasightseer · 16 days
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Apparently, I'm turning my sister into a Finan Girlie???? 😭
She commented this in reply to a Finan and Sihtric edit I sent her, she's obviously never seen the show lol
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justasightseer · 25 days
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Uhtred Ragnarsson / TLK S3
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justasightseer · 25 days
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Aelswith in 4x10 | Alfred in 3x07
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justasightseer · 25 days
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Sad wet cat with tears in his eyes--but he's dreaming
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justasightseer · 30 days
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"Alicent resents Rhaenyra having the freedom that she never did." This is a pretty common hotd take which is complicated by the fact that Rhaenyra doesn't actually really have that much more freedom (she also has to marry and have children, and also ends up in an abusive marriage). So I'm wondering what if Alicent knows that? What if her resentment isn't that Rhaenyra never has to pay the price for her transgressions/freedoms, but that Alicent and her family are the ones who pay for Rhaenyra's freedom. When Rhaenyra goes out with Daemon, putting her reputation and marriage prospects in jeopardy, it's Otto who loses his job (after he saves her from likely having to marry Daemon). When Rhaenyra has obvious bastards that will create multiple succession crisis's, it's Aemond who loses an eye and is threatened with torture, and Vaemond who gets murdered. Alicent spends most of the series under the assumption that if Rhaenyra has to choose between giving up being queen and murdering her half brothers she'll choose the latter, gaining her freedom by harming Alicent. In this context her resentment makes a lot of sense and is more than just spite and jealousy (though I'm not saying those aren't present).
This also has me thinking what if Alicent is the more self aware one of the two of them? I think she knows how shit her situation is in a way that Rhaenyra might not until episode 10 when Daemon chokes her. Alicent at least by episode 9 recognizes her father for what he is and in her own small way able to fight for what she wants (Rhaenyra's survival and peace). She at least knows she's in a prison and is able to build a window in it, as Rhaenys condescendingly described. Rhaenyra on the other hand might truly believe that she's the exception to all the sexism in Westeros. That her name, her dragon and her father mean that she isn't like all the other girls. And for a while that's true. She gets to do things that no other woman in Westeros could get away with. She either doesn't see the cost to Alicent and Criston and Otto and Aemond and Vaemond, or she see their fates as their own faults. That all collapses in episode ten when she sees how completely alone she is. The men who are supposed to be obeying her seem more inclined to listen to Daemon and Daemon will not place her needs above his own or at least won't without first assaulting her.
This then allows for an interesting thesis of the show if it was intentional. We're given two women who have very different responses to patriarchy, but neither approach can save them. Obedience won't save them, promiscuity won't save them, a dragon won't save them, the right husband won't save them, the right father won't save them. The only thing that could have maybe saved them is solidarity, something that we see Alicent give up on in episode 5 (whether Rhaenyra has ever considered using her position or privilege to help another woman is an open question).
Obviously there's no definitive proof of this idea, but I find it interesting and that it adds depth to the tension and bitterness between Rhaenyra and Alicent.
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justasightseer · 1 month
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A belated birthday gift for my best friend; the King 👑 
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justasightseer · 1 month
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watching the last kingdom and Uhtred better start drinking some respect women juice soon or I'm gonna drop it.
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justasightseer · 1 month
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Aldhelm’s s3 arc + text posts:
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+ bonus Aethelred:
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(x) (x) (x) 
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justasightseer · 1 month
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I audition for the role of Ophelia.
Ophelia might be 18. She might be 25. We don’t know. We know she’s young and pretty. I’m 27 and fairly pretty. I’m not young.
The director says he won’t cast someone who “looks” older than 25. I know this means he won’t cast someone who looks older than he thinks 25-year-olds look like.
The truth is, your face when you’re 27 is the same face as when you’re 25. The truth is, your face when you’re 25 is usually the same as when you’re 23. It changes sometime in the night when you’re 21.
Your face when you’re 20 is your face when you’re 18 is usually very close to your face when you’re 16. But when you audition for a 16-year-old when you’re 16, you lose the role to someone who’s 25.
You realize that all of those teenagers you watched in movies growing up were adults. They needed to be beautiful. They needed to be desired. Not awkward, growing, acne, baby fat cheeks.
That’s why you never looked like them. You wanted so badly to look like them.
Now 27 is too old for 25 and you spent your life waiting to look old enough to look young until you’re too old to look your age.
I lie. He can’t tell whether I’m 23-25-27 or whatever age at which a woman is disqualified.
I get the role. I meet the actor playing Hamlet. He’s 45. I meet the actress playing Hamlet’s mother, and she’s 30.
God forbid a woman looks like she was born before she gave birth.
Imagine if she looked like a mother.
Would Ophelia like to be a mother?
Would she have to look like one? With stretch marks and tired eyes from late nights nursing her baby?
Would she have to grow up?
Luckily for Ophelia, she drowns before she gets the chance.
Luckily for me, I still look young enough for the audience to care.
Ophelia and I leave behind a perfect corpse. And happily, because who leaves flowers at a grave with crows feet and smiles lines?
The play is a tragedy, so we don’t smile much, anyway. Luckily.
The people will cry because I’m worthy enough to die,
and happy Ophelia will never become too old to play herself.
Ophelia— a somewhat lazy poem I recently found buried in my notes app.
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justasightseer · 1 month
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happy valentine’s day, tlk!
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+ bonus:
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(thanks to @incorrect-last-kingdom-quotes​ for giving me the idea to do these)
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justasightseer · 1 month
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Cillian Murphy for GQ (2024)
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justasightseer · 1 month
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I've had a request in my inbox for another reader insert Finan smut fic, and the asker has not responded to my question about what type of scene, so I present...a poll!
Reblog for larger sample size please!
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Look at that face... my lady parts are weeping! I just want to run my fingers through that beard, then tug his head back by his hair! Unfgh!!
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justasightseer · 1 month
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For the Uhtred girlies 🥰💓
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justasightseer · 1 month
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FINAN!!!!!
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justasightseer · 1 month
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"No- honey, NO!" + Loki pleeaasee
hi, question: is “tired and horny parents” an acceptable kink?
maybe i should answer requests in the order i get them, theo u idiot. hmmm NO
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It’s been a hot minute since you and Loki had a night—hell, or a morning or afternoon, you aren’t picky—just to yourselves.
Kids are in every way as exhausting as everyone had warned you and complained about. Between getting Elliot to school every morning, going to work, picking him up on lunch breaks, taking him to ice hockey lessons, somehow feeding your family every night, getting all his homework done, and getting him to bed before 10pm, it’s pretty safe to say you and Loki are officially out of the honeymoon stage.
You couldn’t do it without him, obviously, he’s an amazing husband and father and definitely the only reason you still have a sliver of sanity left. He takes the lead when it comes to keeping the house running, always having steaming hot meals ready when you are able to haul yourself to the kitchen and is ready to drive whenever you’re willing to hand over your keys (and with them your life, so that hardly ever happens).
Yes, you love the hectic life you’ve created and neither of you would trade it for the world…but come on. Human beings have needs. Celestial beings do too, as Loki has made very clear to you.
“Thirteen days,” he whines, trudging behind you pushing the loaded grocery cart. “It’s been thirteen agonising days, darling, and I miss you.”
You jump up to reach a bag of tortilla chips on the top shelf, tossing them in the cart. “We are not having this conversation in a grocery store. And I should really be concerned by the fact that you’re counting…”
“Why not? It’s not like we get to discuss this at home,” he grumbles, sounding a little too much like your son—who is eight years old and actually has an excuse to whine sometimes. “Think about it. This is the first time all week we’ve been alone.”
Spinning on your heel, you raise a suspicious eyebrow at him. “Elliot’s just in the bathroom, babe. He’ll be back any second—wait, you’re not suggesting we get it on in a grocery store, are you?!”
He just flashes you a wolfish grin.
“Yeah…no. Keep it in your pants, snowflake.”
Elliot comes sprinting back down the dairy aisle and hops on the end of the cart just as you hear Loki mutter “it’s been in my pants for thirteen days. My pants hardly fit anymore.”
You smack him in the chest with a block of sharp cheddar.
The sink is filled with dirty dishes from dinner, but you’re certainly not going to be the one to do them and Loki’s knocked out on the couch right now, so there they stay. There’s a muffled humming coming from the bathroom as Elliot brushes his teeth, humming something that sounds scarily like a Drake song to himself as he gets ready for bed.
Keeping a wary eye on the bathroom door, you pour two glasses a little too full of whatever wine was in the pantry and take them over to the coffee table. Loki is snoring softly, hair fluttering with every breath, and holy shit, he looks fine as hell.
You set the glasses on the coffee table and sling a leg over Loki’s waist, settling yourself on his hips and dipping down to steal a deep kiss. He wakes with a startled grunt that quickly turns into a moan and you take the opportunity to deepen the kiss, exploring his mouth as though you’ve never tasted him before.
And oh my god, you’ve forgotten how good he does taste. How good of a kisser he is, even after just waking up. How soft his lips are, yet so demanding and dominating and—
“Ew, oh gosh, mom! Please stop!”
You fall off the couch and hit the floor with a solid thud.
“Elliot! Guess what, it’s bedtime!” You jump to your feet and fix your shirt, ushering him back down the hall with a quick glance at Loki: he’s flat on his back staring straight up at the ceiling with a murderous glare, breathing heavily. You’ve never seen more frustration on someone’s face before, and he’s holding a pillow to cover his groin.
…you’ll have to come back to that.
And you truly have every intention to, but Elliot insists you stay with him until he falls asleep. After a couple minutes of stroking your fingers through his curly black hair, your head hits the headboard and you’re out like a light.
Once he feels steady enough to walk again, Loki comes looking for you and stops in Elliot’s doorway at the sight laid before him. You’re fast asleep with Elliot’s head in your lap, fingers still lost in his mop of hair.
A smile plays at Loki’s lips and his heart undeniably swells; that’s his. You and your son, all his. He silently steps to the bedside and switches off the last lamp, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, then on Elliot’s, bidding the two of you goodnight and quietly shutting the door behind him.
After an extremely cold shower and downing both glasses of wine that you never got around to, Loki crawls into bed and is fast asleep in an instant—hugging your pillow to his chest and wishing it was you.
Fourteen.
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“Is it sad to say that now I get turned on just by looking at your hands?”
Loki pauses his chopping and catches your eye, the smirk on his face perfectly devilish. “Certainly makes my job easier…”
Your arms are around his waist as you stare over his shoulder at his hands; he’s only cutting up carrots for Elliot’s lunch, but the way his long fingers wrap around the handle of the knife and manoeuvre the vegetables under the blade, veins rising across the back of his hand and oh fuck, it’s been far too long since you’ve felt his hands on you.
Wrapping your arms under his, you grab his shoulders and yank him down, biting a nasty hickey into the curve of his neck.
You’re on the counter before Loki’s movement even registers and he’s between your knees and his fingers are everywhere and it’s still not enough. You can’t even breathe with his tongue working wonders against yours and you think you whacked your head against the open cupboard door, but you really couldn’t care less right now.
Clawing at his shirt isn’t giving you the feeling of his skin that you’re craving and you’re about to actually rip it from his chest when a deafening CLANG echoes through the tiny kitchen.
“That was disgusting,” Elliot retches, setting the two metal pans on the table, “and I’m going to be late for school.”
Loki looks just about ready to murder something.
Wiping your mouth off, you quickly slide off the counter and apologise to your son, leaving Loki leaning against the counter top, his knuckles turning white from gripping the edge so tightly. You throw the rest of Elliot’s things in his lunch bag, shove it in his backpack, and grab your keys.
“Bye, snowflake,” you call from the doorway, peeking your head back in the kitchen. He hasn’t moved, still looking like he’s ready to rip the marble right off the countertop. “I’ll see you after work, okay?”
He grunts and waves a hand.
“Love you!” You’re out the door as Elliot yells his goodbye too, and another crazy day begins.
The whole day you’re distracted, only able to think of just how, erm, frustrated Loki was when you left. Maybe there’s some way that you and Loki could take a trip somewhere, just the two of you and then you can have each other all day, every day without any more interruptions?
You almost swoon just at the thought.
The day drags on and you just want to go home already. Paperwork piles up until you can leave for lunch and you pack your things, hurrying to go pick up Elliot from school. You sneak to the door with your arms full, trying not to be noticed by anyone; the last thing you want right now is to be stopped by some prying coworker named Karen who wants to hear if Elliot placed as high on the honour roll as her daughter did.
You almost make it to the door but someone calls out your name and brings you to a stop. “You’ve been a little off today, sweetie.” Your boss stops you on the way out the door, taking the stack of papers out of your arms. “Go get your kiddo and take the rest of the day. I can cover for you.”
Oh, praise everything holy.
You thank her profusely and sprint to the car before she can change her mind, yanking your phone from your pocket and dialling Loki.
“I’M COMING HOME,” you practically shout when he picks up the phone. “I got the rest of the day off! And guess what. Elliot has practice today until seven.”
You can hear the grin spreading across his face. “You’re joking.”
“Not in the slightest, babe. Prepare yourself. We’re about to get a whole three hours to ourselves.”
Boy, he’s already breathing heavily. You almost burst out laughing when he growls “get home. now,” and you hear a click as he hangs up.
You try, really, you do, to not pass the speed limit on the way to Elliot’s school, try not to seem distracted as he tells you about the new book he started, but you really just want to drop him at the ice rink and get. home.
There’s a bottle of wine and a smokin’ hot, extremely touch-starved god waiting for you…it’s any wife’s dream come true.
But you walk through the door to the ice rink and hand Elliot his skates, kissing the top of his head and wishing him a good practice, and the coach comes walking out to meet you.
“We’ve got to cancel practice today,” he sighs, gesturing at the crowded rink behind him. “They forgot to tell us that they booked a match today, so we’re moving practice to tomorrow till seven. Sorry kiddo.”
It’s still illegal to stab people, right?
Loki must be rubbing off on you.
Instead of screaming and ripping your hair out like you really feel like doing, you plaster on a smile and thank the coach, ushering Elliot back to the car. So much for three hours of bliss when you get back home.
You do honestly love your son, more than anything, let’s just keep that in mind. You’re not trying to get rid of him…you just want maybe an hour or two alone with the exhausted and painfully attractive god that you’ve recently neglected. None of this is Elliot’s fault! Well…maybe a little bit, but still.
The car ride home is thick with your disappointment, and Elliot can tell. He tries to lift your spirits, having no idea what’s running through your head, by telling you about a kid in class who doesn’t believe Thor is really his uncle, and it does actually help.
It’s actually a pretty funny story, and by the time you unload the car and carry Elliot’s backpack to the front door for him, there’s a smile on your face and a twinkle in Elliot’s eye, proud of himself for making you laugh.
You’ve barely shut the door behind you when two arms latch around your waist and you’re slammed against the wall. Oh god, it’s Loki, and he’s already got his shirt off and he’s ravaging your neck like a starved man, ripping at your clothes and lifting you right off the ground.
Elliot is so shocked, the poor kid looks like he’s about to scream.
“Loki!” You screech, pushing him away and yanking your shirt back down. Loki just snarls and lunges back at you, his eyes flashing in a way that would be so hot if it weren’t for your son kind of uh…standing right there.
Shit. He still hasn’t noticed Elliot (who’s at this point just clapped his hands over his eyes, trying to run out of the room and—whoops—just ran smack into a wall). Then Loki grabs your shirt and oh fuck—he’s conjured a knife, and he’s actually going to cut your shirt off of you.
“No, Loki stop—”
Elliot screams.
“—HONEY, NO!!”
Loki jumps with his own scream and straight up drops you.
“Why are you here?!” He shrieks at his son, the knife falling to the floor with a clatter.
“I live here!!” Elliot yells back, his voice a couple octaves higher than usual. “Why were you pointing a knife at mom?!”
“It’s—it’s uh…because I love her, of course!”
“DAD! I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to show your love!!”
“Oh my god, both of you shut up,” you groan, pulling yourself off the floor and handing Loki back his dagger. “Keep. it in. your pants,” you hiss under your breath.
Loki runs a tired hand over his face and slumps against the wall, his cheeks burning red. “I thought you had practice, Elliot.”
“Yeah, well, it got cancelled,” you sigh, heading to the laundry room and grabbing the first t-shirt you can find. “Looks like we’ve all got the rest of the day together, hm?”
Loki catches the shirt you throw at him with a scowl, tugging it over his head.
The whole ridiculous, awkward situation finally seems to settle around the room and Elliot claps a hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle. From his place slumped over on the floor, Loki raises a questioning eyebrow at his son.
“Sorry, sorry,” the kid giggles, scrunching up his face and shaking his head at the two of you. “That was so gross. You guys kiss each other way too much.”
Loki can’t help the tiny grin that tugs up the corners of his lips and he quickly conjures a handful of snow, throwing it right in his son’s face. “Careful. It’s incredibly disrespectful to laugh at your father, young man.”
That only makes Elliot laugh harder.
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By that night the whole situation appears to be thankfully forgotten by your son, and you tuck him in bed a little earlier than normal. Loki’s cleaning up, no doubt just trying to keep himself busy so that he doesn’t devour you right there in the kitchen.
Elliot is in bed, but you know he’s not asleep yet, so you have to remind yourself to stay quiet when you head back to the kitchen and wrap your arms around his waist, squishing your cheek up against your husband’s back. “I’m sorry…” you sigh, running your hands down the front of his chest. “I know you were looking forward to today.”
“Tell me, darling, what gave that away?”
You laugh, jumping up on tiptoe to press a kiss to the back of his neck. “I think for me, it was the knife,” you tease, giving his stomach an affectionate pat.
Loki laughs, a tired and defeated sound, and he turns around to lean back against the sink. “That was my last attempt. I believe I’ve lost myself, my dignity, my ability…and certainly my reputation.” He brings up a soapy hand to bop your nose. “And don’t even get me started on my self esteem. You’ve ruined me. I hope you’re happy.”
You give a halfhearted shrug and fall against his chest, closing your eyes and running a soothing hand up and down his stomach. “Hey, for the record, I miss you too, snowflake.”
His breathing stutters under your touch, even such a gentle, innocent touch, and you know that this has to stop. You’ve got to figure out a way to get some time to yourselves.
“Loki?” You tilt your head up for a slow kiss that he happily gives. “I’m calling Thor tomorrow morning. Let’s get him to watch Elliot for a week or something, so you and I can get out of here.”
He lets out a groan and melts into your arms, searching for your lips again. “And where might we go, my love?”
You think for a minute, the feel of his cool hands on your skin finally returning to memory. “Italy? France?”
He hums to let you know that any of those sound perfect, and a wonderful idea pops into your head.
“…Iceland?”
Loki throws his head back with a laugh, wrapping his arms tightly around you and walking you backwards towards the couch. “I couldn’t care less where we go, as long as I can have you the entire time.”
“Iceland it is.”
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hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!
loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @sciluvcatz @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak
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justasightseer · 2 months
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hopefully they never take away the way you can drag the little post icons around the screen on the android app
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justasightseer · 2 months
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Little Darling
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Pairing: Loki x Reader
Summary: Living with the God of Mischief in London comes with finding many surprises, and one of those surprises happens to be a four-year-old named Tom Hiddleston.
Word Count: 4,092
Warnings: a few swearing instances, established roommate relationship, but mostly fluff
No one had ever said that living with the God of Mischief would be easy, let alone boring. Sometimes, you'd come home to your shared two-bedroom flat in London and find the entire living room filled with stray cats, one of whom wore a name tag that said 'Hel'. One time, you woke up to hear neighing in the bedroom only to hear your Asgardian flatmate staunchly deny the existence of a horse within the premises. There was also the time when you found your Tupperware lids changed from red to green; that was one of the most tame incidents since you started living with Loki. Then there was the time when you found Loki sitting inside the kitchen shoveling spoonfuls of strawberry cheesecake Ben and Jerry's into his mouth while the radio played Elton John's version of "Can You Feel the Love Tonight". The morning after that, you found the flat perfectly immaculate - the floors sparkling clean, the sink clear of all dirty dishes, the carpet free of coffee stains, and a bouquet of freshly-cut flowers on the kitchen table. You swore he used some of his powers to do the job, but still thanked your flatmate while he smirked like he held the world in the palm of his hand. 
And in today's case, you woke up to find the strawberry jam completely empty after you had just bought a new jar two days ago. If it hadn't been for your roommate giving you the silent treatment until you agreed, you wouldn't bothered to set foot inside a Waitrose on a Thursday evening. It had already been a long day, too demanding. All you wanted to do was come home, eat some ice cream before Loki can finish it all, and then binge-watch one of your favorite shows. 
You placed your bags of groceries in front of your apartment, reaching for your keys. When you opened the door, the flat was completely silent even though the lights were on. "Loki?" You called his name a few more times, locking the door behind you. Maybe he was out with his brother, or indulging in some mischief that may or may not end with him being punished by the local magistrate or worse, Asgardian justice. With a sigh, you wandered towards a new book cast on the coffee table.
'Norse Mythology' by Neil Gaiman…what could Loki possibly be doing with this book? Fact-checking himself?You wouldn't have given it a second thought, but there was a black leather wallet next to the book. It couldn't have been Loki's because well, Loki's wallet would've been enchanted with some spell that caused it to self-destruct whenever you or anyone other than Loki himself picked it up. You knew it was wrong to snoop, but assuming that this was a stolen wallet, you figured that you might as well open it anyways. If you knew whom it belonged to, you could call them and return it.
Inside the wallet were a few debit and credit cards, a twenty-pound note, something small related to UNICEF, a supermarket membership, and…a business card with the telephone number of a London talent agency. You raised your eyebrow only to drop your jaw when a small photograph came between your fingers. It was a photograph of a familiar man with sky blue eyes, defined cheekbones, and short curls that were a mixture of ginger and Golden Retriever blond. He was sitting next to an elderly woman with white hair and a genuine smile - his mother perhaps? Never mind that, Loki really messed up this time.
You slammed the wallet onto the table and anxiously looked around the rest of the living room. The cushions were ripped into shreds, the sofa covered in feathers and cotton pieces. In the center of the carpet, there were strands of what could only be pet hair and a small pair of grey boots that Loki would never be caught dead wearing. "Loki? What the fu-"
"Mister Loki's not here!" The voice of a little boy could be heard from the kitchen.
You turned your head almost immediately. There's a child inside the house? Did Loki have a son you didn't know about or something? Is that child even Loki's? Tightly gripping the bags from Waitrose in one hand, you made your way into the kitchen.
At the center of the small, round dining table sat a small boy with blonde tufts of hair parted in the middle, almost giving a small curtain-like effect on his forehead. He wore a navy blue jumper and pinstripe pants, swinging his legs underneath the table. Lost in his own little world, the little boy played with a stuffed brown dog. 
"Hello…" You greeted the child and slowly opened the refrigerator door. 
He looked up. "Hello!" 
The first of the groceries that needed to be put away was the ice cream. Along with the jam that Loki asked for, you bought two pints of strawberry cheesecake ice cream, some French cheese, a loaf of bread, and a stash of Cadbury bars in various flavors. 
"Who're you, miss?" The boy chirped, still holding the stuffed dog.
You told him your name while putting the rest of the groceries in their proper place. "I live here." As proof, you reached into your pocket and showed him your key. "What's your name?"
"I'm Tom," he brightly introduced himself.
"It's very nice to meet you, Tom." You pointed to toy in his hands. "And who is that? Is that your little doggie?"
"Yeah, his name is Bobby!" Tom places the stuffed animal on the table. "You can pet him." 
"Does he like to be petted?" Sitting across from him at the table with one of the Cadbury bars while Tom enthusiastically nodded, you gently stroked the dog's tiny head. You bit the inside of your cheek before asking your next question. You just had to know, your gut instinct was telling you to. 
"Tom…" You folded your hands and leaned slightly forward. "What's your last name? You know, most people have a first name and a last name. Tom is your first name. What's your last name? Tom…"
"Tom Hiddleston."
You gulped, slowly unwrapping the Cadbury bar. Okay, now there might be a bigger problem than the stolen wallet. The real Tom Hiddleston had to be in his thirties or something, at least according to your knowledge. How did this kid have the same name? More importantly, how did he end up in yours and Loki's apartment and what is he doing here? 
"Tom Hiddleston," you repeated to yourself before breaking a piece of the Cadbury bar and putting it inside your mouth. Then, you offered the bar to the boy. Letting the chocolate melt inside your mouth, you watched as he broke off a piece for himself and ate it. "Do you like chocolate?"
"Yeah!" 
"I love chocolate. Do you know who Mister Loki is?" You broke off another piece of the Cadbury bar. 
Tom nodded, "He's a god."
"Yes, what kind of god?"
"He's a funny god!" Tom giggles, "He likes playing pranks!"
You couldn't help but laugh too. "Yes, he does like to play pranks. What about you, do you like pranks, Tom?"
"They're funny."
"Yeah, I think so too." Only sometimes, you thought to yourself. Just then, your phone vibrated and you excused yourself to go answer it.
Loki's voice came through the other end. "Ah, it's you. Are you home, pet?"
Your smile disappeared in an instant. "Loki, you have a lot of explaining to do," you snapped, furrowing your eyebrows. "There is a four-year-old sitting in our kitchen, and he says his name is Tom Hiddleston. Also, why the hell did you steal someone's wallet?!" 
"Is he cute?"
"Loki, I swear to -"
"You adore him," Loki teased.
Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair. "Yes, but Loki… Look, I'm going to call the police as soon as this phone call is over, so they can return this wallet to the rightful owner."
"Or you could just give it to the boy. He won't know about half the things inside it."
"Loki!" 
"It's his wallet anyway."
"What?" You winced, needing to take another breath. "Loki, you're crazy."
"He deserved it," Loki nonchalantly retorted.
Slumping onto the sofa, which was still covered in pillow feathers, you held the mobile phone to your ear. "Explain," you demanded. From the corner of your eye, you could see little Tom feeding himself another piece of chocolate.
"I was having a morning stroll in the park after you'd left for the day, and I came across this man named Tom while he walking his dog.  He asked over and over again if I was the God of Mischief, and kept asking all these questions, including if I was familiar with some company called "Marvel"," Loki explained in an exasperated tone. "Then, his dog jumped on my leg and barked incessantly."
"And then?"
"Then he introduced himself to me, gave me a suffocating hug, apologized for the hug, and asked so many questions about where I was living and what I was doing in London. It was like talking to an exuberant child."
Your eyes widened like saucers. "So you turned him into one?!"
"More or less."
"And that was his wallet and his book on the table? Loki…" You groaned, rubbing your forehead. "Change him back. Please."
"Oh, how I love it when you beg, my pet," Loki snickered before sarcastically replying, "I'm totally convinced."
"Ugh! Could you at least give me Doctor Strange's number or something?!" You inquired, knowing the breaking news that would flood the internet if anyone found out that an internationally-renowned actor was transformed into an innocent four-year-old. "He needs to be changed back into an adult."
On the other side, Loki merely laughed. "No need - I assure you Doctor Strange has the appearance and the behavior of an adult."
"Fuck you!"
"Careful," Loki playfully reminded you. "No bad language in front of the children."
"You're taking care of dinner for three tonight. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal clear."
As soon as Loki ended the call, you put your phone aside and returned to the kitchen.
The little one looked so sweet, playing with the dog and singing to himself. Forgetting about the police and the wallet, you sat across from him and took a piece of chocolate.
"Tom?" You gently called, getting his attention. "Tom, Mister Loki will be coming home soon, alright? In the mean time…perhaps we can talk. Is that alright with you?"
"Sure." Tom nodded, looking up at you with a sweet smile. "You're really pretty."
"Thank you, Tom. You're very sweet." You tilted your head to the side ever-so-slightly. Since it was just the two of you in the kitchen, perhaps you could find a way to while away the time until Loki showed up. "Do you like to listen to music?"
"Yeah!"
"Yeah? Well, maybe I can turn on the radio and we can listen to some music. Would you like that?"
"Okay." Tom climbed out of the chair, following you as you approached the radio sitting on the kitchen counter.  You flicked a switch and turned a knob as it adjusted to a station playing 80's pop. Perhaps your darling little guest might know one of those tunes. 
"She's been living in her uptown world.," the voice of Billy Joel emanated from the little radio. "I bet she's never had a back-street guy. I bet her momma never told her why.
I'm gonna try for an uptown girl…"
"Oh! This is one of my favorites!" You gushed, shimmying your shoulders in time with the music and smiling. 
"She's been living in her white-bred world
as long as anyone with hot blood can. 
And now she's looking for a downtown man. 
That's what I am."
Tom called your name and tapped your wrist. Turning around, you found the little boy standing in the middle of the kitchen. "Watch this," Tom said before doing a pirouette, just like the dancer Wayne Sleep did when he performed this song with Princess Diana in December of 1985. The little boy spun around on one foot a second time before finishing with a dramatic bow. 
You laughed with appreciation and clapped. "Bravo!"
"Come dance with me, Miss. Please?" Tom looked up at you with puppy dog eyes.
"I would be delighted." Taking Tom's little hands in yours, you couldn't stop smiling as the two of you danced in the kitchen to the rest of the song, moving your shoulders and hips. Meanwhile, Tom couldn't stop giggling, looking up at you as if you were the only lady in the world and dancing with you was a dream come true. At one point, you lifted your arm up and twirled the little boy as gracefully as possible, causing him to blush.
"My uptown girl.
You know I'm in love
With an uptown girl"
"What's going on here?" Loki smirked, amused by finding the two of you dancing as the song came to an end. He placed six boxes of Chinese takeaway onto the dining table before helping himself to the Cadbury bar laying around. "Have you been missing me?"
"Mister Loki, you're here!" Tom promptly rushed to hug him, throwing his arms around Loki's legs. 
"Oh, get off, you exuberant little-" Loki was about to push the child away before he caught a glimpse of you giving him a little scowl. The God of mischief relented, patting the little boy on the back with a small smile. "Let's eat?"
You nodded. "Tom, wash your hands please?" You directed him to the bathroom, and watched him dawdle. The radio was now playing "What's Love Got to Do With It" by Tina Turner, a song you hadn't heard in years.
"You adore him," Loki teased you again while the two of you set the table with plates, forks, and cups.
You shook your head, warming the food in the microwave. "He's fun to be around, I'll admit it. By the way, thank you for choosing the fried rice and not getting the plain vegetables." 
He winked at you. "I also remembered to bring two extra fortune cookies, just in case you don't like the fortune inside the one you eat first."
"Thank you."
"I believe now would be a perfect time for you to apologize for telling me to…what was it, my pet?" Loki goaded you. "Fuck me?" 
"Huh?!" Right on cue, Tom pranced into the kitchen and sat down at the table. You snickered at Loki, and ruffled the little boy's hair. You and Loki sat on either side of Tom, and began to help yourselves to the egg rolls, fried rice, pan-fried broccoli with oyster sauce, and a kung pao dish. 
You pointed out each dish to Tom, and invited him to try some. "Thank you, Mister Loki." Tom said in a sing-song voice before putting his fork into a piece of sauce-covered broccoli. 
"You're very welcome, Tom." Loki almost beamed, unable to deny the joy he felt at the little boy's words. The two of you exchanged a smile while all of you continued eating. 
"Mister Loki?" Tom piped up after some time. "Do you dance?"
"Tom, I'm a god," he reminded the boy. "I don't indulge in such trivial things."
Tom proudly told Loki about how the two of you danced in the kitchen, how he showed off his ability to pirouette, and how he held your hands. "You should dance too, Mister Loki!"
"Do you like her?" Loki mischievously asked the boy about you. 
"Yeah!"
Loki and you chuckled. "So do I," he told the boy. 
Tom cheekily grinned, holding an egg roll in his fingers. "You fancy her?" 
The God of Mischief sharply denied, fighting the warmth flooding his cheeks. "Hang on just a second -" 
It was Tom's turn to laugh, his blue eyes sparkling with joy. His laughter rang through the kitchen, like a bird singing for all to hear.
"Tom," you ate a spoonful of fried rice, "what should a person do if they fancy someone? Let's say a man fancies a lady, what should he do?"
Tom shifted in his seat for a moment. "Uh…" He took a bite of his egg roll, chewed, and swallowed. "Uh…he should say 'you're…you're," Tom slowly answers, trying to find the right word, "you're beautiful, and…I fancy you."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
You turned to Loki and smiled before looking at Tom. "That's a very good answer, Tom. Good job."
"And do you fancy Mister Loki?"
Loki grinned mischievously as he waited for your answer.
You took a deep breath. "Well…I do like Mister Loki very much. He is funny…he is a smart god, as you probably know."
"And is he handsome?" Loki interjects.
Shaking your head, you scrunched your nose for a moment. "He can be, when he isn't being such a pain."
Tom laughed some more. "You fancy Mister Loki!"
"Tom, eat your food. Don't forget about the veggies."
"Don't forget about veggies," Tom mimicked you, earning a laugh from Loki. 
Once the three of you had finished eating, Tom asked if he could help you with the dishes. "Of course, Tom." You brought a chair close to the sink for the boy to use as a step stool. Nodding his head along with the music from the radio, Tom rinsed the soap from the dishes after you scrubbed the leftover food and grime off of them.
"You've been very helpful, Tom. Thank you." You ruffled his hair again when he put the last plate in the drying rack. "Would you like some ice cream as a reward?"
"Yes, please!"
You retrieved one of the pints from the freezer, and put three scoops into bowl for Tom. He gleefully thanked you with the same sing-song voice and strolled into the living room while eating. 
Following Tom into the living room, you were surprised to find the living room in perfect condition. The feathers from earlier today were gone, the carpet was free of hair, and the grey boots - presumably Tom's - were neatly tucked into a corner. 
Loki walked into the living room, carrying a stack of folded bedsheets. He knelt before the sofa and began to arrange them into a makeshift bed. "He can sleep on the couch tonight," the God of Mischief commented, placing Tom's stuffed dog Bobby onto the blankets. 
"Thank you, Mister Loki!" For the second time that night, Tom hugged Loki. But this time, Loki hugged him back, holding the boy in his arms for at least a minute. 
"You're welcome. Now go with her and get ready for sleep."
Giving Loki a "thank you", you led Tom away and gave him a spare toothbrush to use for the night. You stood next to him in front of the mirror, brushing your teeth while he brushed his. He even gargled a tiny cup of mouthwash and promptly spit it into the sink. 
Loki watched from a distance, unbeknownst to both of you. He admired the way you interacted with Tom, making the little boy feel welcome the same way that you made him feel welcome when he was assigned by Stark Industries to live with you for the first time. 
He reminisced about the first month that he was living with you. Loki thought about the way you helped him use the shower head, teaching him which way to turn the faucet for hot water versus hot water. He remembered how patient you were when he fumbled with the stove and nearly burned his fingers while boiling a kettle of water. Then there was the time when he tried to warm an aluminum packet of Pop-Tarts in the microwave…You were not pleased by the smell in the kitchen, but nevertheless silenced the smoke alarm before the landlord found out. And then, you showed him how to remove the wrappers and warm the Pop Tarts properly, not-so-gently chastising him all the while.
Loki snickered to himself. He really did deserve that, and the fact that you were willing to call him out when necessary was one of the reasons he liked living with you. Perhaps…perhaps Tom was right. He did fancy you, maybe even more than what he imagined.
You wiped your mouth after brushing your teeth and walked with Tom into the living room. The four-year-old boy climbed onto the couch and snuggled underneath the blankets. 
"Good night," Tom looked up at you and Loki. 
Kneeling before the boy, you gently kissed his hair. "Good night, Tom." Loki turned off the lights in the living room, and you left to change into your pajamas. 
After an hour, you meandered into the hallway to check on your little guest. While Tom peacefully slept and held his stuffed dog to his chest, you felt a pair of arms around your torso. 
"You are very beautiful…and I fancy you," Loki whispered into your ear.
"Stop it," you giggled under your breath. 
Loki held you closer. "Thank you for taking care of him."
"You need to change him back in the morning." You turned around and pointed a finger at him. "The paparazzi will find out about this."
"I've got everything under control," Loki assured you, placing his hands on your shoulders. "And when this is all over…maybe I'll bring another little one home?"
"Loki!" 
"Fine, I'll just make one."
You rolled your eyes in a playful manner and turned around. "Good night, Loki."
"Wait!" Loki grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his arms for a moment. Before you could say anything, his lips were on yours. You melted into the kiss almost immediately, clasping his arms as he held you close. "I don't think I thanked you properly for today." He smirked.
"I think you already have…" You looked up at Loki, not sure if he was being genuine or just making a joke.
Loki tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "I really fancy you," he confessed, murmuring your name with affection. "You're the kindest, most beautiful person that I've ever met on Midgard. You welcomed me into your life, you live with me even while knowing all of my history. Everyday you talk to me, indulge me in my games, and bring life into this place. Without you…living on Midgard would be like a prison. But with you, it feels close to paradise.
I know I don't make things easy for you, and sometimes I don't even know how you stand me. What I do know is…there's absolutely no one like you. And I fancy you more than anyone else. Do you…do you feel the same?"
"Loki…"
"Tell me," he softly insisted. All of the smugness from earlier had melted away, leaving nothing but a god who simply wanted to know if his affections were one-sided or not. "If you don't, then I'll forget everything I just told you, and we'll move on like nothing happened."
"And if I do?" You swallowed, your eyes meeting his. "What if I do fancy you, Loki Laufeyson of Asgard and Jotunheim?"
A warm smile spreads across Loki's face and he chuckles. "Do you…do you really?"
You replied matter-of-factly. "Sometimes that happens when you live with someone for six months, and catch them eating ice cream while crying to love songs."
"You tease," he snickered before kissing your lips again. Loki pressed his forehead against yours and held you, enjoying the moment to the fullest.
After what felt like several moments, you stroked Loki's cheekbone. "We should probably head to bed. It's late…and Tom might wake up."
Loki sighed, releasing you from his embrace. The two of you exchanged a "good night" filled with mutual affection and moved towards your separate bedrooms.
BONUS SCENE
A few hours later, you were awoken by fits of giggles and loud screaming. What could possibly be going on now? Climbing out of bed, you turned on the lights and sauntered into the living room.
"Thomas!" You chided, standing at the doorway while Loki and the little boy threw fistfuls of feathers at each other, surrounded by newly-destroyed pillows. "Thomas, for heaven's sake, it's the middle of the night! Will you go to bed?"
Tagging: @smolvenger @lokiismineforever @lokischambermaid @lokiprompts21 @lokisgoodgirl @lokisprettygirl22 @lady-rose-moon @holdmytesseract , @icytrickster17 , @thatdummy-girl , @cakesandtom , @turniptitaness , @winterfrostlovetriangle , @lady-rose-moon , @lokisninerealms , @muddyorbsblr , @123forgottherest
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