little mortal is the first name that loki gives you that isn't your own. you bristle at it in the beginning, because you think that it's a cruel way that loki wants to remind you about the differences between you.
as time goes on, you start to believe the fondness in his tone. you notice when he says itâwhen you're being stubborn, when you're feeling bad, when you're on the cusp of doing something just because you can.
dear heart is when he's being patientâeither with you, or with himself. when you're ranting, and he wants to pull you back to the point of the matterâ"dear heart, come back."
chaos bringer appears the day that you brought home a duck.
"it's hurt," you tell him.
"it's messy," he says.
"so are you. so am i. just until it's healed!"
he sighs, knowing the battle was lost. "very well, chaos bringer."
lovely one is for first thing in the morning. or last at night. when his guard is down and he thinks that he's gotten lucky in a way that has tricked the universe.
when you roll over in the morning, face still crumpled from sleep, and he reaches outâ"good morning, lovely one."
cleverness sounds like immense pride, even when he's not thinking about it. especially when he's not thinking about it.
or when he notices your restlessness in the evening, and you've paced a hole in the living room floor as he readsâ"come, cleverness," he says, shifting in his chair, "tell me what troubles you so that i may concentrate."
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Summary: A rainy night. A visit from Thor. A child?
Tags/warnings: talks about children, fostering(?) a child, i'm not an expert i just have ideas, established relationship between Reader and loki, no gendered pronouns for Reader or child, no use of y/n, he/him pronouns for Loki, anything else - just let me know!
wc: 1.6k | loki m.list | on ao3
đŚš× âËâšâ donât forget â a reblog is a writerâs best friend!Â
The idea of children was always met with a "not yet". Only once had it caused an argument between the two of youâone that ended in the both of you storming off for all of the day and half of the night.
Loki had his concerns. A flurry of spiraling thoughts that he hadn't conquered yet - could he be a good father? Would he know how to be a better person in such a profound way?
You had your wants. A baby to hold and keep. Little eyes that you could show the wonders of the world to.
Neither of you could settle on an ideal.
Soânot yet.
Which is fine.
Your life, both married and as an individual, is fulfilled. You have hobbies. Books to read. Land to travel.
You're not lacking.
Still, you picture what your house would look like with a little one running around. The possibility that they would inherit Loki's eyes and quick hands. Your laugh, and hair. A combined cleverness that would leave the nearby town cowering.
Not yet.
It's fine.
Until the most interesting thing happens.
Thor knocks on your front door, a little before suppertime. The places have already been set at the table, and company wasn't expected.
You answer before Loki can say no.
It's been raining all day, he would've said, given the chance, let me continue to enjoy my peace.
The door swings open.
You expect to see Thor, towering and boisterousâpossibly returning from a conquest of some sort or anotherâoffering ale and stories to pass the night.
What you do not expect is the small being underneath his arm.
"This is not normal," you say, hand still on the doorknob. Of course, you meant hello.
Thor is not deterred. He grins, tilting his head to the side in his boyish manner. "Extraordinary circumstances."
Your gaze drops down to the tiny human that is dwarfed next to Thor. A child, little older than a toddler, with hair that you think would be untamed even if the weather was dry and big, curious eyes.
Loki finally makes himself known, standing behind you. "Brother."
Thor's eyes soften, and something about the action makes him feel all the more serious. "Could we speak inside?"
Loki takes Thor into the kitchen. They sit at the table, the placemats temporarily forgotten, speaking with lowered voices that you couldn't quite hear.
You don't like being separated while they're clearly discussing something important. However, Thor had suggested that there were details he needed to share that he did not wish to repeat in front of his guest.
You knew how to handle children. You're not scared. You're just... not sure how to fill the silence.
The little one has on a cloak that is too big for them, the rain-speckled fabric dragging in places across the floor. They almost look like a ghost with it on, you think, as they stand in the middle of the floor awkwardly.
A little ghost.
"It's okay," you tell them, once it's obvious they aren't going to move from their spot. "If you want to look around? There's books. You can touch any of them."
The child looks but does not move.
Youâre careful to not move too quickly as you step towards the bookshelf. You pluck a hardback from its place, opening the pages. âThis one has nature in it, I think. If you like nature?â
Little Ghost hesitates. Then they come closer, standing on tiptoes to peer at the book.
A fire, a few towns over.
A house no longer standing.
A family reduced to its smallest member.
The details make Loki's stomach churn as he sits across from his brother.
"I would take the babe myself, if I were home long enough."
Loki's eyebrows furrow. Babe? "You speak as though you brought an infant into my home."
Thor waves his hand, dismissing Loki's tone. "You know what I mean."
Loki sighs, leaning back in his chair. "Unfortunately, I do," he replies. "Though it does not change the fact that Iâweâare not keeping the child."
"A temporary solution," Thor quickly corrects. "Until there is someone else."
Loki frowns. A temporary solution to be taken away. "No."
Thor scrubs a hand down his face. âYou havenât even askedââ
âExactly,â Loki interrupts, his voice firmer. âBecause they will get attached, and I will still have to say no, and you know that.â
A bad guy yet again, in another story.
âYou accuse me of seeing into the future.â Thor smiles. It feels patronizing to Loki. âVery well then, brother, if you are so setââ
âI am.â
ââthen I believe it would be best for me to venture elsewhere tonight.â
Loki stands first. âIâm sorry I do not have a more favorable answer.â
Thor shrugs. âIt will be what it will be, brother mine.â
They both walk into the living room, with Loki leading the way. He stops in the threshold, and Thor nearly knocks him over.
âWhaââ Thorâs words are cut short when he sees what Loki is looking at.
The child is peering over the book, and you have crouched down to accommodate them. Occasionally, you turn a page, pointing at an illustration and explaining what was being shown.
Loki notices that the little one looks less undone, less likely to crumble on the spot, than when Thor brought them through the door. They peer over your shoulder with a curiosity that feels familiar to him.
He curses Thor in his mind. As if he could feel it, Thor quietly snorts.
You look up from the book, meeting Loki's eyes. You don't say it, but it's clear, the questionâWell?
Loki looks at you. Then at the book in your hands. Finally, at the child, and how they tap on the page. "What's that?" They ask. Their voice is small, but they are persistent in getting more information.
"A coyote." Your attention turns back to the book, to the tiny being next to you. "They howl."
"Howl?"
"Mmmhm." You point at the text next to the picture; Loki knows this animal encyclopedia well, can almost imagine what the next paragraph will say.
He turns to Thor, who looks like he has won a prize.
"And to think, I'm known as the tricky one."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." He does.
"How long?"
"I don't know."
A pause.
"And you truly believe it's the best option?"
"I believe they will be safe while they are here," Thor responds. "However long that may be."
It sounds so honest coming from Thor that Loki feels like he needs to take a walk. Instead, he casts another look at you and the child, and how neither one of you pay attention to him. Then he looks to his brother. "You owe me a child-sized bed," he says.
"That's all?" Thor asks, visibilly perking up.
"For now."
Thor claps a hand against Loki's shoulder, keeping it there. "I'll be back tomorrow morning."
By the time the sun has fully settled underneath the horizon, the rain has also slowed to a barely-there pitter-patter against the roof. The lights in the house are mostly off, save for the ones in the guest room where the three of you have gathered.
Loki had disappeared sometime after supper, tasked with making the spare room feel more comfortable for their small guest. Windows opened to clear the air. Blankets, shaken out and then remade on the bed.
Now as you sat on the edge of the bed with the small child tucked in towards the headboard, and Loki standing near to the side, you couldn't help but wonder if you were doing the correct thing. It felt right butâ
They picked at their food, eating timidly. When you offered new, clean clothes (an oversized tee), they only took it when you reasoned that you would run their current clothes through the wash.
How could you comfort someone who had gone through something so big? How could you help them understand it when they still had such a small view of the world?
The silence felt heavy. You had already ran through goodnights, and were prepared to offer bedtime stories when Loki speaks.
âDid you like the coyote?â
Itâs the first question heâs directly aimed at the child.
They nod their head.
âWould you like one in your room for protection?â
Your brows raise. You do not own a coyote, guardian or not.
Loki pays your expression no mind. He conjures a small orb, green and hazy. The child looks concerned.
âIt wonât have a name,â Loki says, so softly. âWill you be able to name it?â
The child thinks about it. Then slowly, they nod.
The orb grows, accepting the permission itâs been given. The form starts to appear, with a mouth, and legs, and then finally a fully formed animal. Loki keeps the apparition close to his palms.
Delighted, the child gasps. "Magic man!"
You feel entirely too pleased that Loki has conjured a solution from thin air. "Indeed," you muse, mostly to yourself.
"It'll stay here throughout the night, if that's okay?"
They nod their approval.
Loki lets the illusion grow until it looks like it wandered in from outside. It sniffs through the air, as if it were truly testing its surroundings, then settles on the floor next to the bed.
"Goodnight, then," Loki says. He looks at the child, his face impossibly soft with the glow of his magic illuminating off of his features. He steps towards the door, pausing to wait for you.
"We're right down the hall if you need something," you say, giving the bed a small pat.
do you think loki gets seasonal allergies? (in all seriousness i hope ur doing good novaâ¤ď¸âđŠš) đ
bless you! loki x reader
Tags/warnings: Loki is sneezy, no use of y/n, no gendered pronouns for Reader, he/him pronouns for Loki, anything else - let me know!
wc: 280
đŚš× âËâšâ donât forget â a reblog is a writerâs best friend!
He sneezes so loudly that the walls of the house shake.
No, literally, shakes.
You brace yourself after the third sneeze. By the fourth sneeze, you decide to follow the noise to the source.
Loki stands in the doorway, hand braced against the frame as his head hangs forward. He looks like heâs just returned to warâwhich is weird, because the last time you saw him, he said he was going out to pull weeds from the garden.
"Was that you?" You ask. You keep your distance, just in case he has another sneeze in him.
Loki sniffles, raising his head.
And, ohâthe red rimmed eyes and dirt smeared face. You don't know whether to cringe or to laugh at how human he looks.
"Yes." His reply is matter-of-a-fact, albeit stuffy. He steps into kitchen, moving towards the sink to wash his hands. He makes no comment how how he disturbed the architecture of your home.
"Darling." He turns off the sink, turning to face you.
You raise an eyebrowâno good has ever come from Loki using an endearment with that tone of voice. "Yes?"
"I'm afflicted."
Your head cocks to the side. You wait for him to elaborate.
He does not.
"Afflicted?" You repeat. "By what?"
Loki considers, glancing out the window. "I don't know," he replies. "But I believe it would help to run ice water over my eyes."
You can't help itâa bite of laughter escapes. "My people call that seasonal allergies," you tell him. "Do you have allergies?"
"I do not."
"Have you gardened before this season?"
"... no."
You tut, stepping forward. You thumb a streak of dirt that crosses his cheekbone. "Perhaps we try to treat that before we try anything extreme."
