Cozy, wholesome Marvel pieces. Exploring human moments through the lens of extraordinary characters. No smut. More to come. Hope you enjoy!
Loki
. ݁₊ ⊹ Cottage AU | Loki x Reader
Snippets of life with Loki in a little cottage tucked away in the hills of Norway.
Compiled here in chronological order.
Counting Her Breaths: Loki worries that he won't be able to be the father his newborn daughter deserves. All he needs is a little reassurance.
Clever Fox: A red fox named Miss Juniper visits your garden with babies in tow. It gets Loki to thinking...
. ݁₊ ⊹ One-shots | Loki x Reader
Dead Dad Jokes: Reader and Loki discuss dead fathers, grief, and learning to laugh about it.
Bucky Barnes
. ݁₊ ⊹ He Knows What He Likes | Ongoing Series | Bucky x Reader
When you join the Avengers on recommendation from your old friend Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes assumes you'll be a pain to deal with. He doesn't like the idea one bit.
As you gently chip away at his gruff exterior, he realizes what he does like. And it's you.
Part 1
Summary: When you join the Avengers on recommendation from your old friend Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes assumes you'll be a pain to deal with. He doesn't like the idea one bit.
As you gently chip away at his gruff exterior, he realizes what he does like. And it's you.
Characters: Bucky Barnes x new Avenger reader (plus a platonic friendship with Sam Wilson and other Avengers)
Trigger warnings/General tags: No use of Y/N, cursing (very minimal and playful), canon-typical mentions of Bucky's past with HYDRA (very brief), canon-typical mentions of violence, Bucky is awkward but we love him anyway
Word count: 2.6K
Author’s notes: This is the first installment in a little series I'm cooking up! I can't make any promises about future posting and timing, but know that I am working on it! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!
Taglist: @tinyshyteacup (please send me a message or leave a comment if you'd like to be tagged in future posts!)
Divider by @saradika-graphics
With new threats materializing around the world, the Avengers were looking for new recruits to help cover more ground.
Sam Wilson had vouched for you. “I’ve known her forever. I think she’ll be a great fit.”
Bucky Barnes had nearly rolled his eyes into the back of his head.
Great. He thought. Basically another Wilson. Just what I need.
When you arrived at the Avengers compound, Sam was there to welcome you in the parking garage.
“Sam!” You cried, jumping out of the driver’s seat to give him a hug.
“You made it!” He returned your embrace. “How was the drive?”
“Not too bad. I listened to audiobooks the whole way. Pretty much knocked out my to-be-read list.” You clicked your keyfob to unlock the trunk and began unloading your belongings.
“Let me help,” Sam offered, taking your suitcase from you. “Steve would whoop my ass if he knew I let a lady carry her own luggage up the stairs.”
“Oh, give it back then,” You yanked your suitcase back with a mischievous grin. “I want to see you get your ass whooped by Captain America.”
“Absolutely not!” Sam barked a laugh and shot his arms out to reclaim the suitcase.
Just then, Steve and Bucky rounded the corner. Steve laughed at the sight of you two playing tug-of-war. Bucky simply cocked an eyebrow.
“Is this our newest recruit?” Steve called, his voice echoing through the garage.
You snapped your head up and immediately let go of the suitcase, causing Sam to stumble back.
“Unfortunately, it is,” Sam jested, catching himself before he could eat the pavement. “Allow me to introduce you guys. This is Steve.”
Steve closed the distance first, with Bucky trailing reluctantly behind him. Admittedly starstruck, you thrust your hand forward, trying to make a strong first impression. “It’s great to meet you, Captain Rogers.”
“Likewise,” He grasped your hand and gave it a firm, respectful shake. “We’re excited to have you on the team. And please, just call me Steve.”
“And this,” Sam gestured unenthusiastically as Bucky approached. “Is Bucky.”
“Gee, thanks,” Bucky glanced sidelong at Sam, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He turned his gaze to you, stone-faced and serious. “Hi.”
Despite his prickly demeanor, your heart did a stupid little flip that you were not proud of.
Sam had described Bucky Barnes to you in great detail.
Grumpy.
Stubborn.
Kind of reclusive.
Painfully unreceptive to modern pop culture.
He had not mentioned anything about how handsome he was. And those eyes.
Maybe Sam was being dramatic. You thought hopefully. Maybe he’s just a little socially awkward? I can work with socially awkward.
Attempting to break the ice, you offered Bucky a smile. “Sam’s told me a lot about you. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” You reached out to shake his hand as well.
“All good things, I’m sure.” He said, his tone bone-dry. He gave you one quick shake with his flesh hand before drawing it back to safety. His metal arm shifted uncomfortably, causing his leather jacket to squeak.
“Terrible things, actually,” You quipped, attempting to chip away at the wall he put up. He blinked and furrowed his brow, deep ridges forming in his forehead like cracks in the earth. He almost looked ashamed.
“But anyone who gives Sam as much grief as you do is alright in my book.”
The ridges faded as he let out a stilted, awkward laugh. His shoulders dropped as the tension bled out of them. “Right. Yeah. I try.”
“Please do not form an alliance with Barnes.” Sam groaned as he pulled a box labeled FRAGILE out of your trunk haphazardly.
“No promises.” You shot Bucky another smile, then whipped your head over to Sam, who was stomping away with your precious cargo. “Hey, be careful with that!”
Huh. Bucky thought. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
As part of the onboarding procedures, you were given a basic overview of your teammates. Their abilities. Their strengths. Their pasts.
“Some of the details are… a little unsavory,” Steve explained solemnly, sliding several files across the conference room table to you. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. But we’re also trying to do better.”
“I get it,” You nodded. “It’s a matter of trust and respect.”
Steve flipped through photos and bullet points on a hologram projector, tactfully introducing you to reformed assassins, an unassuming scientist who could punch through a brick wall when provoked, and one former weapons manufacturer turned clean energy connoisseur.
Then Bucky’s photo materialized on screen. Steve seemed to hesitate for a moment, then cleared his throat.
“I’m sure you remember Buck from earlier,” He said, his tone carefully neutral. “He used to be known as the Winter Soldier.”
He hesitated again. It was clear this was a tender subject for him.
Enslaved by a terrorist organization called HYDRA.
Experimented on. No anesthesia. No pain relief.
Brainwashed. Abused. Coerced into gruesome murders.
Shoved into cryostasis when not on active duty.
All over the course of nearly 70 years.
By the end of the explanation, your head was swimming.
“He’s been reintegrating back into society for a while now,” Steve concluded. “Slowly but surely, anyway. Don’t take it personally if he seems standoffish. He really is a good guy.”
Steve’s protectiveness touched your heart. Despite your soul-weary exhaustion, you found yourself smiling softly.
“I believe you, Steve. Don't worry, I won’t terrorize him like Sam apparently does.” You joked, attempting to put him at ease. It seemed to work.
“Thank you,” He sighed, his posture relaxing. “I practically have to separate them sometimes. Might have to call you in for backup at some point.” He rolled his eyes, but his tone was fond and light again.
“Just give me a shout whenever you need me.”
The meeting concluded and Steve dismissed you with another handshake. As you trekked back to your floor, you made a mental note.
Show extra kindness to Bucky Barnes.
And keep this little crush under control.
Over the next few days, Sam insisted on showing you the ropes. He gave you a tour of the compound, formally introduced you to the other Avengers, and volunteered to spar and train with you.
While you quickly warmed up to your new teammates, you noticed that Bucky mostly kept to himself, existing in the perimeter of the group. Kind of reclusive, just as Sam had said.
However, his demeanor had improved since your first meeting.
You chalked that up to the fact that he often overheard you trading verbal jabs with Sam. On a few occasions, he snorted out a laugh before going silent again. Like he wasn’t sure he was allowed into your bubble.
You made a habit of giving him a smile and a small wave whenever you passed by each other. The first time you did it, he only nodded stiffly in acknowledgment. By interaction number three, he started waving back. On interaction number six, you got a lopsided grin in addition to the wave. It nearly knocked the air out of your chest.
Eventually, it became your shared ritual. You looked forward to these little exchanges more than you were willing to admit.
Be cool. He has enough to deal with. You reminded yourself.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Natasha drawled before taking a bite of her takeout during a team dinner. “You got any embarrassing Sam stories?”
“How much time you got?” You fired back with zero hesitation. That earned a laugh from the whole group, and a desperate plea from Sam to change the subject.
At the far end of the table, Bucky’s lips pulled into a smile. You tried to sneak a glance at him, but your eyes locked instantly. Your heart did another embarrassing little flip.
Feeling brave, he smirked playfully at you.
“Let’s hear one.” He called, then took a sip of his beer. Everyone turned to face him, expressions ranging from subtle encouragement to shock that he had spoken up at all. With all eyes suddenly on him, he shrunk back slightly in his chair and shot you a “help me” look.
Sensing his nerves, you quickly brought the attention back to yourself.
“Oh man, where to begin?” You tilted your head toward the ceiling, reaching into the well of memories you had with Sam. “One time he accidentally sent a girl into anaphylactic shock when he brought her tiger lilies on their first date. She was very allergic.”
“What?!” Everyone gasped, turning sharply toward Sam with accusatory glares.
“The florist said I needed to impress her! I trusted her professional judgement!” He cried, trying to defend himself. “How was I supposed to know her face would swell up?!”
“I take it there wasn’t a second date?” Tony quipped.
“No. There was, however, a trip to the ER.”
More laughter erupted, much to Sam’s chagrin.
But in the middle of the chaos, Bucky wasn’t piling on Sam. He wasn’t joining in the uproarious laughter. He was looking at you. And his heart was starting to do embarrassing little flips too.
The next morning was your first pre-mission meeting. You stepped into the elevator, pressed the glossy button labeled “5”, and began your descent. Your skin was practically buzzing with nerves.
On floor 9, the elevator came to a smooth stop and the doors parted with a hiss. Bucky Barnes stood there, stubble and surprise grazing his face.
You blinked at each other for a single, stretching moment. Then, he presented his signature lopsided smile and wave. You returned the greeting and stepped aside, welcoming him in. You hoped he couldn’t hear your pulse picking up.
He entered and pressed himself against the opposite wall, shoulders slightly hunched, hands shoved in his pockets as usual.
“Uh… floor five,” He muttered. “Please.”
“You heading to the meeting too?” You asked, smiling expectantly at him.
The doors slid closed and the elevator resumed its descent.
“Yep.” He nodded mechanically, not quite meeting your eyes. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.
“So… how’s it going?”
That caught you off guard. You hadn’t pushed for more than passing glances since meeting Bucky. You now felt nervous for reasons that had nothing to do with the upcoming mission.
“Good,” You said, attempting to appear calm. “Everyone’s been really welcoming.”
“Good. That’s good,” He finally faced you, then grimaced. “You already said good. Sorry.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair.
Well, at least we’re both nervous. You thought.
“No need to apologize,” You laughed light-heartedly. “I appreciate you asking.”
“No problem,” His shoulders seemed to loosen up. “First mission, huh? You ready?”
“I’m feeling pretty nervous, not gonna lie,” You admitted. “Everyone here is so experienced. I just want to do a good job.”
“Don’t worry about it. You wouldn’t be here if Steve didn’t see something in you. You’ll do great.” Bucky’s gaze was steely and resolved, but his tone was certain and kind. It was a glimpse of the good man Steve Rogers believed he was.
Despite your nerves, you stood up a little straighter and offered him a watery smile. “Thank you, Bucky. Really. That means a lot.” You said, your voice warm and grateful.
His expression softened. He gave you a reassuring nod in response.
The doors whooshed open once more, breaking the spell. You had arrived at floor five.
“After you.” Bucky said, gesturing toward the exit. Once you stepped out, he followed and kept pace with you. You stared ahead, actively fighting the heat creeping up your neck.
When you approached the conference room, you reached for the door handle absentmindedly. Without a word, Bucky lurched forward, grabbed the handle himself, and held the door open for you.
It was a simple gesture. Polite. Gentlemanly. And it melted your heart into a puddle.
“Thanks.” You said softly and entered the room on shaky legs. Steve was already there, organizing intel on the holographic touchscreen, completely absorbed in his work.
You took the second-to-last seat at the end of the table, not-so-subtly leaving the one beside you open.
“This seat taken?” Bucky asked, his voice low and casual.
You’re killing me, Barnes. You thought.
“Yeah. By you.” You replied coyly.
The corners of his eyes crinkled in a way that could only be described as endearing. He lowered himself down beside you quietly, the chair creaking slightly under his weight. He kept a respectful gap between you, but it still didn’t help your racing heart.
The other Avengers began to spill in and take their spots, the room filling with a low hum of conversation. Sam sat across from you, grim and displeased, his eyes flicking between you and Bucky suspiciously. You shot him a single warning glare and looked ahead, shutting him down before he could call you out on your conspicuous seating arrangement.
Mercifully, Steve began the meeting at that exact moment.
“Alright,” He clapped his hands once to focus the group. “Let’s talk weapons trafficking.”
Later that afternoon, still mentally kicking your feet over your earlier interaction with Bucky, you walked in on Sam’s latest attempt to drag him into the modern age.
They sat at the kitchen table, plates with crumbs and half-eaten sandwiches long forgotten beside them. Clearly, this discussion warranted their undivided attention.
“Come on, man! You haven’t even given it a chance!” Sam’s arms flew up above his head dramatically.
“I gave it a chance. I liked it just fine.” Bucky grumbled back unconvincingly.
“Just fine? Just fine?! It’s a masterpiece!” Sam was wildly gesticulating at this point.
“What are you boys fighting about this time?” You chuckled as you poured yourself a cup of coffee at the counter.
“Bucky here listened to Trouble Man once and decided it was ‘just fine’.” Sam gestured disapprovingly to Bucky, who crossed his arms defensively.
“I didn’t say it ‘was just fine’. I said I liked it just fine. There’s a difference.” Bucky shot back.
“There really isn’t.” Sam muttered.
“Ah. The age-old debate.” You nodded sagely, stirring creamer into your mug.
“Please help me out here.” Sam rubbed his face in exasperation, his voice muffled by his palms.
You thought for a moment about how best to respond. You knew from Sam’s stories (well, really, your gossip sessions) that he had painstakingly tried to introduce Bucky to new music and media, to no avail.
It came from a good place. Despite his pushiness, Sam was just trying to help Bucky blend in with the world that had moved on without him.
But it had to be overwhelming.
Then, it occurred to you. When was the last time anyone had asked Bucky about what he liked? When had he last been allowed to gush about the things that mattered to him?
You decided to give him that chance.
“What kind of music do you like, Bucky?” You asked pointedly.
He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, though he began to fidget like he was being examined under a microscope.
“I like forties music.” He mumbled, his eyes averted.
“No shame in that,” You said matter-of-factly. “You know what you like and you stick to it. I respect that in a person.”
“Oh, for the—” Sam rolled his eyes aggressively. “What did I say about forming an alliance with Barnes?”
“You told me not to. But, in my defense, I said no promises.” You smirked, then took a sip of your coffee.
Bucky blinked up at you from his seat, mildly stunned, processing your words. Then, a grateful smile bloomed, the lines in his face creasing like leather.
The noise around him—the hum of the kitchen appliances, Sam’s agitated rambling—all seemed to fade as if his head were underwater. His heart began to beat so forcefully behind his chest that he swore it rattled the plates in his arm. His vision narrowed to your laughing face.
Bucky Barnes knew what he liked.
Forties music.
Black coffee.
Cold beer.
His growing collection of early edition fantasy novels.
Summary: Loki worries that he won't be able to be the father his newborn daughter deserves. All he needs is a little reassurance.
Characters: Dad & husband Loki x mom & wife reader (plus infant daughter)
Trigger warnings/General tags: No use of Y/N, established relationship, some angst and a TON of comfort, pure, unadulterated fluff. I'm very new to this, please let me know if I missed anything!
Word count: 883
Author's notes: Part of my Cottage AU. See my masterlist here.
Taglist: @tinyshyteacup (please send me a message or leave a comment if you'd like to be tagged in future posts!)
Divider by @dividers-are-us
The cottage had settled into the evening. Crickets chirped softly outside. Cool, dusky moonlight filled the sacred space of your bedroom like mist.
Loki lay on your plush bed, cradling your infant daughter against his chest tenderly, the headboard creaking as he adjusted his position. She blinked up at her father slowly, her gaze locked on him. He stared back, counting the dark green flecks in her eyes, delicately brushing his index finger along the slope of her nose.
Only a few weeks old, she was still so small. Smaller still, when wrapped in his long arms. Yet somehow, her gentle weight pressed against his heart like a stone.
In his periphery, Loki heard a high-pitched squeak from the bathroom, the hushed patter of water against the porcelain tub coming to an abrupt stop.
A few moments later, you emerged in a cotton nightgown, humidity pouring out in your wake. You crawled lazily into bed bedside him, the mattress dipping under your weight.
“What are you still doing up, my dear?” You leaned in to kiss your daughter’s forehead, breathing in the sweet, musky scent that still clung to her skin. “Is papa keeping you awake with his stories?”
He laughed quietly, though it seemed like it required great effort. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready to put her to bed yet. I wanted to spend just a little more time with her.”
He fell silent then, his arms tightening slightly around her tiny frame. His mouth was downturned, his brow creased.
You knew that look. He didn’t speak, but it was loud in his mind.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” You whispered, brushing a dark curl away from his face.
Loki slowly turned to face you, his sharp features softened by vulnerability and the warm glow of your bedside lamps. “I fear I’m not… enough for her.”
You tilted your head, your chest clenching with worry. “What brought this on?”
“My father and I were always at odds with each other,” He said ruefully. “Truthfully, I worry that history will repeat itself. That I won’t be able to bond with her as she grows, to love her as she deserves. I’m scared that I’ll…” He grimaced, unable to push the words past the lump that formed in his throat.
“Become your father?” You supplied gently. He nodded then hung his head, ashamed.
“Oh, Loki,” You ran a soothing hand up and down his back. “Your father’s inability to provide the love you deserved is not a reflection on you.”
His head snapped up, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He stared at you, desperate to believe you, silently begging your words to be true.
“She danced inside me whenever you touched me. She looks for you when she hears your voice. She always settles when you hold her. She already loves you very, very much.” You pressed a kiss to his temple, sealing the words against him like a promise. “Because you have always loved her as she deserves.”
The dam finally broke, silver tears spilling over his cheekbones. He let out a shuddered breath as you brushed them away with the pad of your thumb.
“It’s hard enough for me to set her down for the night,” He whispered. “It makes me think of…” He trailed off, unable to speak again. He stared into the middle distance, searching for dark memories his mind couldn’t recall.
He didn’t need to say it. Laufey. He was thinking of Laufey.
“I can’t even begin to imagine abandoning her. Leaving her to perish alone. The mere thought of it makes me sick.”
“I hope that makes you realize that you never deserved that, either. You have always been worthy of the same kind of love you give our child, Loki.”
He inhaled sharply and nodded again, your words crashing against him like a wave. Your daughter cooed sleepily and nestled closer to him, as if she could burrow into his chest. Out like a light.
He gazed down at her with a watery smile, his heart cracking wide open.
“Are you trying to tell me it’s time for bed, little heart?” Loki chuckled, then wiped a stray tear away with his free hand.
He rose fluidly and carried her to the bassinet beside you. He moved soundlessly, the normally creaky floorboards hushed beneath him. He paused at the threshold and lifted her slowly to press one last kiss to her forehead.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” He whispered, his voice soft like a woven spell.
Then, he laid her down with all the reverence of laying flowers on an altar.
You held your arms out to him as he climbed back into bed. “She has you absolutely wrapped around her finger. How could you ever doubt your love for her?”
He returned your embrace and brushed his lips against your shoulder, causing you to shiver.
“I suppose I need the reassurance sometimes.”
As you drifted off to sleep, Loki laid awake, his elbow propped up against his pillow, his head resting in his hand. From his vantage point, he could see the smooth, rhythmic rise and fall of your daughter’s chest.
For a long while, he stayed like that, still and peaceful.
You wake up in the golden halls of Asgard with impossible news: you're to marry Prince Loki, a sharp-tongued stranger whose emerald eyes hold secrets you can't begin to fathom. With no memory of how you arrived in this realm of gods and magic, you're thrust into a world where everything you thought you knew crumbles to dust.
Loki greets you with cutting remarks and barely concealed disdain, making it clear that this arrangement suits him as little as it does you. But beneath his sardonic exterior and silver tongue, you begin to glimpse something more—moments of unexpected kindness, fleeting looks of understanding, and a loneliness that mirrors your own displacement.
Just as an unlikely bond begins to form between you, Loki vanishes without a trace, leaving you with more questions than answers. When whispers of his dark deeds reach Asgard's halls, the man you thought you were beginning to know becomes a stranger once more. But you've seen past his masks, and when he falls from grace—broken and lost—you might be the only one who can reach the person hidden beneath the God of Mischief's facade.
LAST SONG aperture - harry styles
CURRENTLY WATCHING courage the cowardly dog show
CURRENT OBSESSION i fear i have started thinking about the pitt again
CURRENTLY READING still the second death of locke by v.l. bovalino
CURRENTLY WORKING ON several... several things.
CURRENTLY WEARING black jumpsuit with a white tee and a green sweater!
LAST GOOGLE SEARCH the correct spelling of the word contortionist
FAVOURITE FLOWER ilies!! specifically tiger lillies
NO PRESSURE TAGS: @snoopysupe @thceseus @tsivi @skymouth @heartharrington @cueloki @clarktologist @sir-lurkslot @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @iminyourceiling + whoever is reading this!!
She originally tagged my main account (@iminyourceiling), but I felt this was a better fit for my writing blog, so I'm sharing it here instead.
LAST SONG Forever On Your Side (Live from Bridgestone Arena) by NEEDTOBREATHE
CURRENTLY WATCHING Severance (technically a rewatch as I wait for season 3)
CURRENT OBSESSION Cracking dead dad jokes (Father's Day is upon us and I'm about to make it everyone's problem)
CURRENTLY READING Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (I listen to the audiobook while cooking)
CURRENTLY WORKING ON A Bucky Barnes fanfic that *may* turn into a short series. We'll see where it goes.
CURRENTLY WEARING Loose-fitting black and white striped tee and green linen pants. It's my go-to look lately.
LAST GOOGLE SEARCH Directions to my local piercing shop
FAVORITE FLOWER Hydrangeas
NO PRESSURE TAGS: @helaintoloki @theleavesofwesteros @cueloki @tinyshyteacup
I don't have a ton of mutuals, but hopefully that will change soon. :')
Summary: A red fox named Miss Juniper visits your garden with babies in tow. It gets Loki to thinking...
Characters: Dad & husband Loki x mom & wife reader (plus a young daughter)
Trigger warnings/General tags: No use of Y/N, established relationship, pure, unadulterated fluff, domestic bliss, a few very minor innuendos at the end
Word count: 1,097
Author's notes: Part of my Cottage AU. See my masterlist here.
Special thanks to @novatheory for the nickname inspiration! I played around with a few you suggested and came up with some of my own. I hope you enjoy! See her post here.
Divider by @olenvasynyt
The late afternoon sun melted through the window, filling your home with a warm, honey-colored glow. You stood in your kitchen, chopping vegetables from your garden to use in the soup you had planned for dinner.
In the living room, Loki sat with your daughter on his knee, reading to her to keep her occupied as you worked. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, hanging on every word her father said. She had insisted on holding the book herself, her small, chubby hands tightly gripping the edges. Loki was happy to oblige, always encouraging her to voice her desires and practice independence.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a slender figure slink into your garden, crouched low to the ground.
A red fox.
It jerked its head from side to side as it scented the air. Its fluffy tail swept the ground, restlessly combing over the grass. Once its threat assessment was complete, its posture relaxed and it curled up in the shade of a large flower pot.
Without a word, you tiptoed gingerly over to the couch, scared that even the smallest noise would spook the fox.
“And then, the—” Loki paused and they both lifted their gaze to you. “What is it, darling?”
“Sorry to interrupt,” You grinned at them conspiratorially. “But I think Miss Juniper is back.”
Over the past year, a red fox had frequented your garden, stopping by to smell the flowers and occasionally steal a bite of whatever fruits or vegetables it could sink its teeth into. Your daughter always squealed with delight as she watched the fox chew with frantic, choppy motions.
Its visits had quickly become the highlight of your day.
Your daughter had insisted on two things. The first was that the fox was a girl (or, more specifically, a lady). The second was that she needed a name. She recommended the name Miss Juniper when she caught her munching on your juniper berries in the middle of winter last year.
“Juniper! What a fine name.” Loki patted her head approvingly.
“Miss Juniper, papa,” Your daughter corrected him in a dignified tone. “She’s a lady, remember?”
“Oh, pardon me. Miss Juniper, it is.”
Your daughter gasped, her green eyes beaming. Loki smoothed her dark curls gently with his fingertips. “Shall we go say hello to our friend?” She nodded eagerly in response, closed the book with a snap, and cast it aside.
Loki rose and positioned your daughter on his hip, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. The three of you moved to the kitchen window, your daughter’s arms looped around her father’s neck.
“There she is.” You whispered in a sing-song tone. Your daughter smiled dreamily, her gaze locked on Miss Juniper’s lounging figure.
Just then, Loki turned his head, sensing another presence. A second later, two fox cubs stumbled into view. “It seems Miss Juniper brought company.” He chuckled fondly.
“Oh,” You sighed, placing your hand over your heart. “Look at those sweet little—”
“BABIES!” Your daughter cried, gleefully pointing as the cubs tumbled over each other.
You both quickly shushed her, your index fingers pressed to your lips. “We must be quiet, little heart. We don’t want to scare them away.” Loki instructed her gently.
Her hands flew to cover her mouth. “Sorry.” She said, her voice muffled.
“That’s alright,” Loki gently pulled her hands away and kissed her dimpled knuckles. “Now, let’s observe.”
For several minutes, Miss Juniper kept a close watch over her cubs, her ears twitching at the slight breeze.
Loki lazily pulled you close until you were pressed against his side. He took the opportunity to plant a kiss at the crown of your head. You sighed contentedly and leaned into his touch. Your daughter giggled quietly as the cubs ran in clumsy circles and pounced on each other, yipping and barking.
“Do you remember the scientific name for red foxes, sweet girl?” You asked, looking up at your daughter.
“Vulpes vulpes!” She announced, her pronunciation perfect (Loki made sure of it, always expecting excellence from his children).
Loki smiled proudly. “Well done, my clever fox.”
Eventually, Miss Juniper stood and shook her body, her fur rippling all the way to the tip of her tail. She trilled softly and trotted back into the forest, the cubs trailing close behind her.
“Bye, bye, Miss Juniper.” Your daughter waved as the foxes disappeared from view. “Well now,” Loki said as he adjusted her on his hip. “Why don’t we return to your book? Perhaps we can discuss names for our new friends.”
“Okay, papa!” Your daughter chirped.
The house was hushed, the moon spilling silver across the wooden floorboards. You loved this time of night. The hum of magic always seemed strongest in the evening hours.
You and Loki sat at your daughter’s bedside, tucking her in.
“Papa, mama,” She whispered, pulling the covers up to her chin.
“Yes?” You both replied patiently.
“I thought of names for the babies.” Her eyelids grew heavier with every word.
“Tell us.” Loki brushed the hair from her face, coaxing her to close her eyes.
“Clover and Daffodil. Like the flowers in mama’s garden.”
Your heart burst with pride at her creativity and love for the garden you had cultivated together.
“Those are excellent names, little heart.” Loki cooed. “But, it begs the question. Are we to call them Miss Clover and Miss Daffodil?”
“No, Mister Daffodil. He’s a boy.”
“Understood. Miss Clover and Mister Daffodil, it is.”
With an elegant flick of his wrist, Loki cast an illusion against the ceiling. Three foxes bounded through a meadow with fluid, dreamlike grace. The soft, ethereal light reflected in her eyes before she finally drifted off to sleep.
He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “Good night, my clever fox.”
The door clicked softly behind you.
“You know, our clever fox has quite a knack for choosing names,” Loki turned to you with a tired, lazy smile that still somehow made your pulse rush. “Perhaps we should give her a brother or sister to name. Add more little cubs to our burrow.”
You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your face. You reached up and placed your hands on his chest, his heart beating just beneath your palm. “Maybe by next spring, we’ll have two more. We could give Miss Juniper a run for her money.”
His hands found your waist, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur as he pulled you into an embrace. “Our girl may be my clever fox. But you, dear heart, are my vixen.”
Summary: Reader and Loki discuss dead fathers, grief, and learning to laugh about it.
Characters: Loki x reader
Trigger warnings/General tags: No use of Y/N, Loki snaps at reader (only briefly), talk of grief and death (nothing graphic or detailed), reader is described as having a strained relationship with their father (again, nothing graphic or detailed). I'm very new to this, please let me know if I missed anything!
Word count: 2.1K
Author's notes: With Father's Day approaching, I thought it would be interesting to explore Loki’s grief around Odin's death. I imagine he has complicated, conflicting feelings about his father, but has never been given the freedom to explore or express them. I wondered what a conversation with him about grief and strained relationships might look like. If you’re a member of the Dead Dad Club™️ (like me), I hope this speaks to you.
After spending more a year reading fics here on tumblr dot com, I finally decided to write something of my own! It came out more platonic than I originally intended, but I'm very proud of myself for sticking to it. Maybe I’ll post more if the ideas keep flowing.
Divider by @dividers-are-us
You hadn’t meant to say it. You never did. Sometimes, the jokes bubbled out of you before you had a chance to think.
Steve entered the kitchen looking uncharacteristically perturbed.
“What’s wrong?” You asked, peeping up at him from your coffee mug.
“Just found out I gotta get a new motorcycle battery,” He grumbled, reaching into the fridge for the orange juice. “Mine’s dead.”
“Yeah, well, so’s my dad. Suck it up.” You drawled before casually taking a sip of your coffee.
Then you realized what you said. Your eyes widened, the mug frozen in place.
For a moment, it felt like the air was sucked out of the room. Everyone turned to you with varying degrees of shock on their faces before bursting into uncomfortable laughter.
“Are you alright?” Steve asked with an awkward smile, his face flushed.
“You always this morbid first thing in the morning?” Natasha chuckled.
Thoroughly mortified, you covered your reddening face with both hands. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to do this,” Your voice was muffled as you joined in the laughter.
“Do what? Trauma dump on your coworkers over coffee and bagels?” Tony quipped.
“Sorry, guys,” You sighed, your hands dropping into your lap. “Sometimes the jokes just pop out of me before I can stop them.”
“And to answer your question, Steve, no, I’m not. But, the show must go on.”
More laughter erupted.
From a nearby hallway, Loki, who had watched his own father die mere months ago, stared in disbelief.
He couldn’t deny that he and Odin shared a contemptuous relationship. Yet he found himself quietly grieving in ways he hadn’t quite found the words for. Together, he and his brother watched their father fade into dust and glory. No warning. No burial. No time to mourn before the next crisis arose.
And here you were, making light of something so harrowing. Something that had wounded him so deeply, so recently. Your joke struck him in a vulnerable place (not that he would ever admit it).
Without a word, Loki turned sharply and walked away. You caught him out of the corner of your eye and felt a sharp pang of guilt.
It happened again a few days later during a sparring session in the compound gym. In between jabs, Sam was bemoaning a recent failed dating experience.
“I don’t get it,” You jabbed, he dodged.
“We were vibing,” He swung, you ducked.
“We talked for hours,” You circled each other, fists up, defending your faces.
“She was laughing at all my jokes! Even the bad ones! And then…”
You dove to tackle him, but he leapt out of the way. You tucked your shoulder and fluidly rolled into a crouched position to break the fall.
“She just ghosted!”
You popped your head up, a cheeky grin plastered on your face. “Sounds like she took a note from my dad.”
Sam stared incredulously for a moment then cocked his head. “Wha—” Then, understanding dawned on him. He rolled his eyes and laughed reluctantly. “That’s messed up!”
“I couldn’t resist.” You chuckled as you rose from your crouched position.
On the far side of the gym, Loki, who had been sparring with his brother, stared daggers at you. Sam noticed first, abruptly shutting his mouth. You slowly turned your head, following his gaze. Your smile faded and your heart fell into your stomach.
Thor had assured everyone that Loki was a changed person, now devoted to righting his wrongs and defending his new home.
But standing there, feeling like he was searing a hole into your head with his gaze, you weren’t sure how well that promise would hold up.
“Sorry… I didn’t mean to—” You started, but Loki held up a hand to cut you off.
“Kindly keep the jokes to a minimum, you irreverent little imp,” He snapped. “Some of us are actually trying to be productive today.”
Without another word, he stormed off. You turned to Thor, who looked equal parts embarrassed for you and worried for his brother. Feeling sheepish, you attempted some damage control. “I really didn’t mean to—”
Before you could continue, Thor apologetically shook his head. “I know. I’m very sorry.” He managed to say before chasing after his brother.
Thor knocked gently on the door of their shared floor.
“Come in.” He heard Loki respond, exasperation clear in his voice.
Thor slowly entered and walked to his brother’s side. “Do you think she’s making fun of you?” He asked without preamble.
Loki didn’t turn from his spot at the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “Of course not.”
“Then why did you snap at her?”
Loki scoffed. “I don’t understand how someone could joke about such a thing. Father and I had our… differences… but even I have some sense of decorum.”
Thor took a moment to absorb Loki’s words. For the past few months, he himself had been grappling with his love for his father, his newly disillusioned view of him, and the complicated grief that came along with it. He hadn’t yet considered how his brother might be feeling, and he felt a pang of guilt grip his heart.
Loki, whose relationship with Odin had only ever been distant and strained, was grieving too. Yet, he was still trying to maintain some level of respect, even now.
Thor cleared his throat.
“I’ve found that midgardians sometimes cope with the harsh realities of life with… irreverent humor. Even when they are truly hurting. Perhaps that’s what she’s doing. Maybe you should ask her yourself,” He patted Loki’s shoulder in a gesture of brotherly affection.
“You should, at the very least, apologize to her.”
A dark cloud had settled over you since Loki’s outburst in the gym.
You sat in the compound library, trying to focus on a debriefing report from a recent mission while simultaneously drafting an apology to Loki in your mind. The space was serene and quiet, save for the clicks of your keyboard.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a shadow fall across the floor. Your head snapped up to meet Loki’s gaze. He approached slowly, as though he wasn’t sure he was welcome.
Your fingers stilled and you blinked up at him. “Hi.” You managed to say awkwardly.
“Hello,” He responded coolly. “I wanted to apologize for snapping at you earlier. Admittedly, my anger was… misdirected.”
He wasn’t angry. Not at you, anyway. Still, you felt you owed him the apology you had been formulating. “I know you lost your father not too long ago. I’m really sorry about the jokes. I wasn’t thinking.”
For a moment, you both fell silent, your eyes averted. Then, his curiosity got the better of him, and he turned to face you again. “May I ask how you can be so… openly callous about the death of your father?”
You paused for a moment, taken aback by his question. All this time, he thought you were being cruel and crass at the expense of a deceased loved one.
“I don’t joke to be callous,” You replied. “I still grieve. The jokes don’t take the grief away, they just give me more power over it.”
That stopped him. He wasn’t expecting such an honest answer. Your vulnerability unnerved him more than he was willing to admit.
“I see.” Was all he could manage.
You gestured to the empty seat across from yours, extending an olive branch. “Would you like to talk?”
For a moment, you thought he would refuse. To your surprise, Loki quietly pulled the chair out and sat down.
His eyes were still averted, his arms crossed. You sensed he wanted to talk, but didn’t quite know where to start. You decided to take the first step, hoping to put him at ease.
“What was your father like?”
Loki took a breath in and exhaled slowly. “He was…”
Memories flashed through his mind.
Heated arguments. Moments when he reached out, only to be silenced, passed over, or rejected.
When he spoke, his voice was low and dignified.
“King of Asgard. Wise and powerful. But, he was also a rather… complicated man, to put it gently.” His throat bobbed as he looked away, struggling to balance diplomacy with his true feelings.
“Were you two close?”
“As close as father and son can be, I suppose.”
“So, not very close?” You asked pointedly.
He paused, disarmed.
“No,” He admitted ruefully and dropped his gaze. “Not very close.”
You nodded knowingly. “I wasn’t very close with my dad, either.”
“What—” He cleared his throat. “What was your father like?”
“Opinionated. Stubborn. Not very good at expressing his emotions. We got into a lot of arguments when I was growing up.”
“That sounds entirely too familiar.” Loki chuckled humorlessly.
“You know what the worst part is? I wanted a relationship with him. I just didn’t know how to reach him. I don’t think he knew how to reach me, either. I feel like—”
You stopped, feeling a lump form in your throat. Loki’s expression softened. He nodded, encouraging you to continue.
“I feel like… it makes the grieving process even more complicated. I’m not just mourning him, I’m mourning the relationship I wish I could have had with him.”
“I agree,” He said softly. “Even after everything, sometimes I still wish we could have… reached each other.”
You settled into a companionable, understanding silence.
After a while, Loki spoke again. “It’s strange. These past few months, I’ve grieved, certainly. But I also feel…” He paused, faltering under the gravity of what he was about to admit.
“Relieved?” You supplied gently.
“Yes.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping, as if a weight had been lifted off of him.
“I felt the same way when my dad passed,” You said simply. “Then I felt guilty for feeling relieved. It’s a vicious cycle.”
“Yes!” He blurted, then slapped the table victoriously. “That! Exactly that!” You saw his mind working, finally beginning to untangle his conflicting emotions. His face was bright with the simple joy of being understood.
“Of course, I could never say that in front of my brother. He loved father so dearly. I fear he would be furious with me if I told him I felt this way.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the way his face lit up, but his admission broke your heart. Loki hadn’t been able to confide in anyone, not even the one person he had left, about the muddled mess of grief, relief, and guilt he had been carrying for months now.
“I think multiple things can be true at once,” You said. “You can have a bad relationship with a parent. You can be glad that you never have to have another fight with them. And you can still wish things could have been different. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”
His mask finally cracked completely. He nodded sagely, but his lips turned downward into what could only be described as an endearing pout. He sat there silently, absorbing your words.
“I’ve found that when we’re free to talk about our grief, we stop drowning in it. Eventually, we’re able to stand in it.” You said, offering him some hope for his own journey.
“And that’s where the jokes come in, I presume?”
“Exactly.”
“Perhaps you’re not the irreverent little imp I thought you to be.” He chuckled, though his tone was sincere.
“Oh, I absolutely am,” You shot back with a mischievous grin. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t wax poetic about grief and complicated family dynamics.”
For the first time since you met him, you managed to make him laugh. “Thank you. For this. For allowing me to speak so freely.”
You smiled warmly, a sense of kinship blooming between you.
“Any time.”
The next morning, you woke early, intending to get a run in before the chaos of the day officially began. You walked into the kitchen to grab a water bottle, earbuds already in.
You found Loki there, a steaming cup of tea beside him, a book in front of him.
“Morning.” You greeted your new friend cheerfully.
“Good morning.” He offered you a smile and polite tip of his head.
As you reached to open the fridge, your earbuds chimed twice—the dreaded dead battery alert.
“Shoot.” You muttered. You closed the door and pulled the buds out as if to scold them for betraying you when you needed them most.
“What happened?” Loki asked, looking up from his book.
You turned to face him with a frown. “I must’ve forgotten to charge my earbuds last night. They just died.”
