Anonymous: I read a fic where instead of Loki, it is Thor who gets pregnant. I wonder what was your stance if the roles were reversed?
“You know it makes more sense,” says Loki in that calm, rational, reasonable tone he likes to use when he’s trying to get out of trouble. “Seriously, look at you. You’re a god. I mean, so am I, but I don’t have the”—he grins as his eyes wander up and down Thor’s massive 6’4” frame—“impressive physique that you do. The brawn, the muscles, the might.” He clenches his fist emphatically. “You’re big and hardy and more physically suited for it than I am, and since any child of ours is bound to be quite large—”
“—or twins, yes, that if I were the one carrying our gigantic, possibly multiple offspring, I’d be utterly miserable. I wouldn’t be able to stand the extra weight. I mean that literally, Thor. You know I have weak ankles. I’d be throwing my back out every other day—”
“I know,” says Thor, “which is why I volunteer.”
“—then there’s the morning sickness, and you know how much I hate throwing up, so it’s obv—what did you say?”
“I said I volunteer to carry our child.” Thor crosses his arms and shrugs, a little smile on his lips. “I think it’d be great.”
Loki stares at Thor blankly before narrowing his eyes. “I don’t know what’s more astounding, that you just agreed with me or that you’re actually willing to do this.”
“Oh, come now, Loki. It’s just as you said. My body can handle immense physical strain, so why shouldn’t it be me? What safer place for our baby to grow than in here”—he gestures to his muscular abdomen, the contours of which can be clearly seen through the fabric of his shirt—“defended by hammer and lightning and my own flesh?”
Loki taps his pursed lips. “That is a rather good point.”
Thor saunters over and gently places his hands on Loki’s arms. “I don’t mind at all,” he says with an encouraging smile. “If I can spare you from any pain and discomfort, I will. This should be a time of joy and excitement—for both of us. I wouldn’t want it to be overshadowed because you are in constant agony. I want you… I want us to be nothing but happy when that day arrives.”
He reaches up and slips his hand around the back of Loki’s neck, caressing him in a way that never fails to make Loki weak in the knees. “I will do this for you, Loki. For us and our child—or children. Because I love you.”
Loki’s face softens. “Well, then,” he says with a faint grin, “I suppose that settles everything.”
“Not quite.” Thor looks hilariously perturbed. “How exactly do you plan to impregnate me?”
Answer: MAGIC, because FICTION! Yay!
So with a little help from Loki’s powerful seidr, an artificial womb is forged in Thor’s body and, after a long, fun-filled night of romantic passion, a little Thorki seed is planted. (Of course Thor would conceive after the first try, being very fertile and all, but that doesn’t stop him and Loki from having sex multiple times a day for a solid month, just in case. Baby-making is serious business.)
Thor’s pregnancy is confirmed a few weeks later when he unexpectedly vomits at the breakfast table after getting a whiff of poached eggs. Loki conjures the mess away and helps Thor back to their room, telling him not to worry, he can handle the meeting with the consuls from Niflheim today, just rest now, darling. Thor smiles up at him weakly and Loki brushes the hair from his eyes and kisses his cheek.
Loki ends up being the best (and busiest) partner Thor could ask for. Like… picture a daddy weasel doting on his expectant mate (who just happens to be an otter), beady eyes gleaming as he scurries along the riverbank in search of vittles and nest materials, getting into fights with other weasels over the best shreds of moss, I don’t know, it just came to me and I thought it was funny, have mercy please.
Once Thor’s belly begins to show and his shawl-poncho thing is no longer capable of concealing his condition, Loki’s illusions and projections come in handy for diplomatic or military meetings with other realms. He spends a great deal of time in the kitchens, hassling the cooks—“No, he can’t eat that anymore, it makes him ill. A little less sugar, please, thank you. Add a half dozen pickles to that order, he can’t get enough of them”—and pampering Thor as he himself enjoys being pampered. We’re talking weekly trips to the spa, breakfast in bed, full-body massages, unexpected flower bouquets, supportive notes left on the pillow in the morning, Loki is just… the best.
And he isn’t turned off at all by the changes in Thor’s body. In fact, he finds him as handsome and desirable as ever. Thor is still wholly capable of breaking a bilgesnipe in half, even without Mjolnir, so to see him embracing his softer side—like the absent way he strokes his belly at any given time of the day, or how he seems to form a nest on any piece of furniture he sits on, his tender murmurs and low, under-the-breath songs that he hums to the baby when he thinks he’s alone, and the way he seems to radiate these rosy, golden shades of light—is incredibly attractive.
“You’re doing so well, Thor,” Loki says to him at night as they’re curled up in bed. “So much better than I could have done.”
“Nonsense. You would have been a fine mother.”
“Oh, please. You know I would have been moaning from the first month. I have yet to hear a single complaint from you.”
“It’s only temporary discomfort,” says Thor, smiling. “And it’s worth it.”
Loki lifts his head from Thor’s chest and gazes up at him, his eyes shining. “I am so proud of you.”
Thor leans down and kisses Loki’s forehead—such a tender, motherly gesture—and then they snuggle up and fall asleep.
Before they know it, the big day arrives and Thor, being Thor, laughs at the offers of anesthesia and insists that the healers just start slicing—what’s one little incision compared to centuries’ worth of perforations he got from Loki? Haha, nothing, that’s what—and Loki is certainly not a nervous wreck, thank you very much, he’s just very, very anxious to meet his child. And he does, a few minutes later, when the midwife places a complaining bundle of fresh kid into his arms.
Baby is healthy, Thor ends up being really proud of his cesarean scar, “the only wound he was happy to receive”, he calls it, and after a few wonderful, sometimes-aggravating-but totally-worth-it-years, Loki decides that maybe this pregnancy thing isn’t so bad after all and he’ll be the one to carry their next child.
Their next child ends up being a full-sized Frost Giant.