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iamanartichoke · 3 years

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I wasn't sure if I was going to post this, but I may as well.

I keep starting to reply to things and then stopping bc the words just aren't there, and I suppose I figured out the core of what bothers me so much (and is making me have such a rollercoaster of a fan experience) about the show.

(cut for length)

It's not well-written. My opinion is my opinion, so I'm saying this subjectively, take it or leave it, but ... I feel that it's not well-written. The overall story is fine, and the plot is fine, but I don't know if it's because of the limited number of episodes not being enough to house the story, or because of the relative inexperience of the writer/showrunner+director, or both, or something else, but -

In an earlier reaction post to episode 4, I mentioned really wanting to sink my teeth into all of the subtext I picked up on. That was what made me initially enjoy the episode so much - there were a lot of little moments that I initially felt revealed so much about the characters and about Loki, and I wanted to analyze them. But at some point, as I gathered more information, my perspective changed and now I no longer want to analyze the subtext bc ... subtext = good. Subtext w/out payoff = not as good.

I'll go into more detail in a moment, but I think the tl;dr of it is that I feel like the narrative requires the audience to work way too hard to put together all of the moving pieces here and, like, I kinda just don't want to do that work? Not so much of it, and not in vain. A lot of the enjoyment of Loki's characterization is coming from fans who are rationalizing why he's behaving as he is, but the narrative never actually confirms those rationalizations. It's asking us to figure it out and maybe our conclusions will be correct but maybe they won't, though. At some point, subtext isn't enough without explicit follow-through.

I thought my issue was with the lack of character development - that is, not having enough narrative space to really earn the big things that are happening now, like Loki/Sylvie or Mobius turning against the TVA. And that's still true, to an extent; I still feel like the pacing is all very off and it seems like most of these things kinda came out of nowhere (but are not unbelievable - just undeveloped).

But, yknow, it is what it is, it's a limited series, and I can excuse some things. Ultimately, my issue isn't a problem with what the narrative isn't doing, it's a problem with what the narrative already failed to do and probably cannot recover from at this point.

The narrative has left out significant details that should at least help us do some of the work here. If a person turned on Loki and started episode 1 and had no background knowledge of the character besides that he tried to take over New York - how would that person interpret Loki? Would that person say, oh, well, he's been through X, Y, and Z, and plus A happened, not to mention B, C, and D, so really, it makes sense that he seems off-the-rails, or that he'd want to get ridiculously drunk at the worst time ever.

Maybe we'd like to believe they would, but how would they be getting to that conclusion? The narrative hasn't led them in that direction so, no, they would not say well we have to consider this, this, and that. It would be impossible to really understand Loki as a character from just what we've gotten in the series. The general audience would probably interpret Loki as being out of his element and so it becomes, I wonder how this character is going to get the upper hand here. And, while that's not wrong, it's just so limited.

The narrative at face value does not address Loki's identity crisis from Thor 2011. It does not address his hurt and devastation at being lied to, nor does it address how complicated his self-image is (bc it sucked to begin with and that was before he found out he was part of a race of "monsters," as he'd been taught his entire life). It does not reference Loki being so broken at the end of Thor 2011 that he deliberately let himself fall into the void of space (aka tried to kill himself). It does not reference that he was tortured by Thanos or even that he went through a seriously dark time in between Thor and Avengers, and it absolutely does not reference or address any influence or control of the mind stone.

These are all things that we, the fan audience, know because we've already invested our time into this character's story. But tons of people, the general audience, wouldn't know these things. Or if they did, bc they saw Thor and Avengers, they wouldn't be thinking about them as deeply as we would, nor contextualizing them with how Loki is behaving now, or why it would make sense that he needed to get drunk, or why it's understandable that he needs to keep going-going-going in order to not have a spare second to think or feel.

They'd probably look at Loki, again, as a character who was a villain and is now getting his comeuppance in a place where he has no power or control, and no literal powers, and even when he manages to escape and catch up to the variant, he proceeds to fuck up their plan for seemingly no real reason except that he wanted to get drunk bc he's hedonistic. Which Sylvie even berates him for! I mean. This is not exactly a complex character breakdown, nor a very flattering one, but that's what the narrative has given us.

(If the narrative has addressed Loki's mind control, his torture, his mental breakdown, his suicide attempt, and his general shitty self-esteem as a result of his upbringing, please point it out to me. If the narrative has explicitly acknowledged and referenced these things anywhere and I am missing it, please show me where. Please explain to me how the casual viewer would know any of these things that they need to know in order to actually understand what's happening in this story.)

So I mean, okay, we have a narrative that doesn't paint a full, accurate picture of Loki. Fine, sure. But because the general audience starts out on the wrong footing, they're not going to get out of the overall story what the writers probably intended them to. For example, in episode 3, a lot of us theorized that Loki had some kind of plan - that he broke the timepad on purpose, for some reason, bc otherwise it wasn't believable that he'd be such a failure. But episode 4 revealed that no, there was no bigger plan, Loki just plain old messed up. Which is fine if, again, one is only considering the surface-level portrayal here, but it's not true to Loki's actual characterization.

I mean. Loki is not perfect and Loki actually fails a lot, this is true. He fails for a lot of reasons, but incompetence has never been one of them. Usually it's that either things grew beyond his control, or there ended up being too many moving parts, or he had to change his plan at the last minute due to some roadblock or another being thrown his way, or even that he got in his own way - whatever the case may be for his plans' failures, he was always at least shown to know what he was doing.

That wasn't the case here. The "plan" to fix the Timepad failed as a direct result of Loki's actions, which were careless and made him seem incompetent, like he couldn't even handle this mission. "You had one job," etc. And there were pretty big consequences for this; they were not able to get off-world in time and would have been killed had the TVA not shown up at the last second.

And maybe none of these things matter bc the writers never intended any of this to be a reflection on Loki's character, positive or negative. The situation exists solely because the writers needed to put Loki and Sylvie together in some kind of hopeless scenario so that they could get closer, and thus the narrative could set up their romance. I get that - but, there were other ways to do it that didn't require Loki to look foolish.

Furthermore, the whole reason they needed to set up the romance is to show Loki eventually learning to love himself (like, figuratively but also literally). The audience is supposed to gather that Loki and Sylvie fell for one another, possibly due to the high emotional aspect of, yknow, being about to die (in addition to the variant-bond). The intent is clear: Loki and Sylvie almost die but get rescued at the last minute, having now created an emotional bond --> Loki and Sylvie team up and the narrative further establishes that Loki, at least, has caught feelings --> Loki might confess them but is pruned before he gets the chance --> he somehow survives, he and Sylvie are reunited and don't want to lose one another again, and the combined power of their love is enough to break the sacred timeline and spawn the multiverse, and the reason that the power of their love is so, well, powerful is because it's about self-love and self-acceptance as much as it is about having the capacity to love someone else. The end.

I get all that. The writers more or less said all that. And, I mean, it's certainly not the way I would have chosen to go about it, but it's a fair enough arc to explore. I don't really have an issue with the intent - but my question, however, is this: if the narrative has so far not addressed Loki's background issues (as outlined above), and has furthermore kinda gone out of its way to portray Loki as hedonistic and narcissistic, among other things (like kinda incompetent), and the context the audience starts with is that Loki's this villain who deserves what he gets -

- my question is 1, why should the audience care whether or not Loki gets to a point of loving and accepting himself (thus to make the theme of self-love, via the romance, hold weight) if they don't know that he hates himself to begin with and 2, why should the audience root for Loki to reach that point when so far the perception of him is that he's "kind of an asshole"? if he's a hedonistic narcissist, he probably already has a pretty inflated sense of himself, right? A misplaced inflated sense of himself, at that, because, again, the narrative has made him out to be not that capable of much of anything. (And it didn't start out that way! It seemed to start out with Loki being capable and intelligent but it's like episode 3, in trying to set up the romance, just jumbled it all up somewhere. I think this is why I'm harping on the Loki/Sylvie aspect so much - it's frustrating bc it kinda messes up the whole story and can't even accomplish what it's supposed to anyway.)

Anyway, that's beside the point. What I'm ultimately getting at is, at what point is the audience supposed to get invested in Loki's personal growth journey?

They can't, not really. Without understanding and having the context of everything Loki has been through up until now, and why he hates himself, and why it's so important that he learn to love himself, then the "payoff" becomes kinda pointless bc the significance of it is lost in translation. So suddenly we're left with this romance that comes off as either "Loki loves Sylvie bc of Reasons" (best-case scenario) or "Loki loves Sylvie bc he's vain, narcissistic, and kinda twisted" (worst-case scenario). Neither of these conclusions are what the writers intended or were going for, I'm positive, but there we are, regardless.

In order for the writers' intent in these storylines to land, they need to address the context of what makes these particular stakes high for Loki. So far, they haven't done that. They're asking the audience to pick up on all of these things, and they're showing things that subtextually make sense and are relatively in-character - but only if you realize there's subtext in the first place.

But you can't expect the audience to do all of the work for you. If you don't want the audience to think that Loki is a narcissistic asshole and instead you are trying to convey that, worst-case scenario, he thinks he's a narcissist but is an unreliable narrator, then you have to address that. If you need the audience to understand why you're going the selfcest route and why it's important to explore Loki's capacity to love himself and others, you have to address where that exploration is starting from and why it matters. Etc etc etc.

The narrative isn't doing any of that. And it isn't like it'd be that hard to do it. They don't need to reinvent the wheel here; a lot of the pieces are already there. A few lines of dialogue for context, a brief scene here or there addressing the issues, a little more care and consistency in how Loki handles things - these are all little things that could go a long fucking way in making the narrative stronger.

I'm rambling. My basic point is that my rollercoaster of emotions with this show is because

- as a part of the fan audience, not the general one, I can contextualize and analyze the subtext and come to the conclusions the show wants me to, and thus find the story and the characters more or less enjoyable,

- but I am also going to be using the subtext to come to conclusions that aren't there but probably should be (I think it would be a better story, for example, for Loki to confuse platonic love with romantic love bc it would pave the way to explore just how fucked up Loki's understanding of love - whether of other people or of himself, and the different forms it can take - actually is)

- and when they're ultimately not there, then I think, okay why am I bothering doing all this work just to ultimately feel very unfulfilled? They don't even have to write it the way I would, I'm not saying that, but they do have to do something to make the story feel rewarding.

If we don't get some confirmation of what Loki's been through, and where his headspace is, and why it matters for him to love himself, then the story remains pretty shallow and, for me, it's not fulfilling enough. It's not engaging enough. There isn't actually anything to sink my teeth into, so it becomes kind of boring. Maybe it's rewarding to other people, and that's great for them, but like - I need more than whatever this is.

So I'm just like - well, I had a lot of worries about this show, but my being bored wasn't one of them and now there's only two episodes left and am I really not going to get anything out of this, in the long run? No new canons, no new depths or layers, no new information on Loki's experiences? This is it?

I don't dislike it. I didn't start out disliking it, and I probably wont end up disliking it. I mean, there are a lot of good moments, and good things, and fan service-y things that I appreciate. As far as inspiration for fic goes, it's a goldmine, both plot-wise as well as aesthetic-wise. All of that is great. I don't dislike this show.

But I am disappointed in it, and I feel like I'll be watching the next two episodes lacking the sense of anticipation that would make it exciting. I'll still enjoy them, probably, if for nothing else just the sheer Loki content, but whatever it was I felt watching episodes 1 and 2 is gone and I'm sad about that, too. Because I really wanted to feel fulfilled by this series; I wanted it to fill up the void that Loki's death in IW created three years ago. And I just ... don't feel it. Maybe, maybe that'll change over the course of episodes 5 and 6. I don't know.

Everything that I end up enjoying long-term, I think, will come about as a result of my own interpretations and analysis and while theoretically there's nothing wrong with that, if I had known all I'd get out of this series was more headcanons or support for my current headcanons then, well - that's fine, I suppose, but I'll definitely a little bit robbed.

#loki spoilers #loki series negativity #loki tv series spoilers #loki series spoilers #long post

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elius-learns-to-write · 3 years

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Beach Day

Hey Besties <3, I plan on getting 3 more posts like this out today as I know I haven't been the most active this week, then tomorrow there will be 2 more out so it means I have posted 7 written works this week. So keep your onions peeled. (the amazing writer @sapphireplums gave me so much inspiration to write with their kind words so you should give her a follow).

Summary: The avengers get their toes in the sand and their swimsuits on.

You had all been working for what felt like 200 years

With missions and paperwork none of you had seen each other properly

So an hour of brainstorming you came up with the genius idea of a beach day

You decided to put the idea to Fury so he could clear everyone's schedule

However it took a lot more convincing than you had expected

You shivered under the mans watchful gaze, you never really understood documentary presenters when they talked about the look of fear in some poor mouse's eyes as it was scooped up into the talons of some large bird, that was until you met Fury, you were sure you had the same look in your eyes right now. You shifted in your seat as he began to talk again, “So you want me to let the world's protectors go off duty for a whole day just so you can go running across some sand and take a swim in salty water? Even though if you wanted to get sand in your hair I would happily get you a bag of it?” he asked a hint of amusement in his voice, pausing his pacing to quirk his eyebrow at you. When he worded it like that it sounded stupid but you knew you all needed a break and you weren’t about to give up “I wouldn’t phrase it like that but yes sir that is in a way what I am asking, look we haven’t been together as a group since the last big team mission a month ago and I can’t remember the last time we spent a day together. Please?” If you can’t get someone to agree by simply asking them then tug at their heartstrings and beg. Those had been the wise words of your grandma Jo and it seems that they had been true “Fine you get 1 day then it’s all back to normal”

After convincing the terrifying director you had taken the idea to Tony as he was going to be the one paying for it

It’s not like he doesn’t have enough money to give some to his friends (and even more to charity but that was an idea for another day)

Of course the man more than happy to splash some cash to see everyone have fun together (and in a swimsuit)

The morning of the trip had been stressful and chaotic to say the least

“DOES EVERYONE HAVE SUN CREAM?” the captain's voice boomed over the noise of zippers shutting, the music from the beach day playlist Tony had made and the excited chattering of the team. “Yes Captain safety first I have enough bottles in the car to last at least 20 years because unlike Y/n I actually know how to take care of myself” the genius quipped laughing at the offended noise that fell from your mouth, “at least I’m not going grey old man” you muttered wandering around trying to find the bucket and spade you had brought down stairs. “Hey as anyone who has seen my Bucket and Spade I can’t seem to find it” you called out rummaging through the colossal pile of bags “No, are you sure you brought it down doll?” Bucky spoke, looking round in confusion not remembering seeing you bring it down. If you weren’t so caught up in looking for your sandcastle building tools you would have laughed at the ‘lost tourist’ look on his face. “Yes I’m sure,” shoving bags with more aggression eager to find it “is everyone sure they haven’t taken it” you stopped to look at the group, cheeks tinted pink from the force at which you were moving bags. “Yes , we’re sure now get downstairs and in the car I’ll get you one when we get there” rushed Natasha, her red hair a nice contrast to the dark denim shorts she had on, “if we get there” whispered Sam making Thor laugh as he attempted to pick up 3 bags at once.

Anyone would have thought you were going on a 5 day holiday with the amount you had all tried to shove in the back of the mini-van you all chipped in for one year at Christmas for this exact reason

The seniors of the group ( Iced Americano and The metal armed man with no plan) were confused on why you needed to take this much but you and Wanda were insistent that you had packed the essentials

(Okay maybe the hats, 5 bottles of sun cream and armbands and floats for the poor swimmers of the pack had been slightly unconventional for a day at the beach but it’s better safe than sorry right?)

The drive was also very chaotic

You hadn’t realised how uncomfortable the seats had been until you were forced to spend 2 hours stuck next to Loki in them. “I know this is the 10th time I have asked this but are we there yet?” the God was starting to seem more like a 5 year old than a stabbing machine and he wasn’t the only one ,“Can you please move your leg over a bit it’s on my side” Sam whined as he shoved Bucky’s shoulder “No for the last time I can’t so deal with it bird brain” the pair hadn’t stopped bickering since they stepped foot inside the vehicle. “Tony can you turn up the music and drown the noise of these kids out please” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose trying to soothe the oncoming headache (not that making the music even louder was going to help) “I thought you’d never ask kid” he replied lunging for the twisty thing no one actually knew the name of, that turned up the music (Bruce probably knew but no one had the energy to ask).

When you got there however the 2 hour drive felt like the needed sacrifice as your toes hit the sand.

As much as you loved being able to fight alongside your family there was nothing better than watching them relax, faces slowly morphing into ones of pure bliss.

“You alright there y/n? You looked like you were away with the fairies then” Steve chuckled, unfolding the deck chair he had brought and placing it next to yours. “Yeah I’m good I was just thinking about how lucky we are to have each other” the man smiled at you as your eyes glinted in the sunshine. “LAST ONE TO THE WATER SMELLS OF FISH” Peter screamed bolting towards the water, that bastard you thought jumping up and running after him “PETER YOU DICK I’M GONNA GET YOU!!!” you laughed. Once you got in the water you squeaked at how cold it was doing the ‘ohh ohh oh sihufbbe’ noise that came with the shock of cold water spinning around to splash water in bug boys face. Oh shit. That wasn’t Peter, you had forgotten that Bruce had gotten into the water straight after Tony and had been swimming beside you. The whole group froze half expecting the man to turn green however what you were met with wasn’t a green mean smashing machine and was in fact a laughing doctor and a splash of water to the face. After that a water fight started, screams of surprise and joy a comforting change to the screams of fear you usually heard in your line of work. You snuck off back to shore and looked at your found family from the warmth of your towel realising how lucky you were to be in a place of love and support, free of judgement. Because at the end of the day yes Loki would complain about the sand in his hair, Thor would be asking for a stop at the shops to add to his Pop tart stock pile, Nat would be silently filming Sam and Bucky bicker like an old married couple, Tony would make flirty remarks to Pepper about letting him rub sun cream on her back again some time, Peter and you would be talking shit to each other as he beat you at yet another game of Mario kart as Wanda and vision made sure to make an extra bowl of whatever they had made to take Bruce who had already made his way down to the lab but you were a family and there was no place you’d rather be.

You would say this was the best idea you ever had but the video of you painting Cap’s shield bright pink would beg to differ

It was a successful trip and you would 100% be posting the picture of Bucky and Peter looking depressed at the fact their ice-creams had fallen on the floor after a light game of ‘I’m gonna push you over’

Ahhhh the bliss of a beach day with the gang

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imhereforbvcky · 3 years

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Watch Me Run - Part 17

Masterlist - Series Masterpage - Part 18

Summary: You inherit a family relic that gives you the gift of foresight but there are others who are interested for more nefarious reasons. You turn to the Avengers for help. (Bucky x reader)

Chapter: You finally make contact with the Avengers again but everything is not as it seems. Or rather everyone.

Word Count: 1928

A/N: the next 2 chapters are more “Move the damn plot, Mee!” than “yes, brain! Deliver some flowing, symbolic prose!” I’m not thrilled about it either, but here we are.

The village was small. Hearty in the way towns are that have crawled out of the wilderness, just barely keeping the wild at bay. It was rugged and worn, and if you’d been there by yourself, you’d have passed right through without marking it.

Bucky pulled the creaking truck beside one of the larger single-story buildings. You’d have guessed the shutters hadn’t been painted since they were installed sometime in the late 1960s. The windows were probably last cleaned around the same time. The concrete wouldn’t need painting. No, eventually it would crumble into the dust whence it came.

For now, the entire side of the building had taken on a soft brown patina; decades of road dust streaked grey with the steady drip of melting snow and ice. Most couldn’t have picked it out of a line-up from the other buildings. Nothing distinguished this one as a government building except the sign in the filthy window of the door advertising its hours of operation. You doubted very much if their adherence was strictly enforced.

“Only library with wifi for the next hundred miles,” Bucky had told you as he gassed up the truck for the drive. You’d yawned and handed him a coffee in a white styrofoam cup. The liquid was black and cloudy as the sky overhead. Even the 3 creams you’d dumped into yours had done little to brighten the stale, hefty brew.

The library door groaned when Bucky drew it open for you. Not the gentle squeak of a place welcoming a new guest. No, this was the deep angry howl of a door stubborn and calloused in its disuse. The woman scowling at you from behind the counter stood as the physical embodiment of the very sound. Grey wisps of hair tumbled out of a hastily tied knot, a worn and grease-stained flannel hung on heavy shoulders over top of a fading wool knit. The collar had begun to fray long ago, as had this woman’s patience.

“Hi.” You offered as pleasant a smile as you could find, a customer service smile, though you were the customer.

The frown didn’t budge one millimeter. Her eyes though, turned to Bucky when he stomped heavy boots on the rug at the door. Muddy slush from the day-old snow dropped off his boots in clumps.

“Please wipe your boots outside,” she scolded.

“The snow’s right up to the door—“

Her head snapped and her eyes burned with the sort of anger only a stern teacher could conjure.

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded before cracking the door just enough to knock his boots on the brick wall.

“Do you need somethin’?” she asked you. Not, ‘Can I help you?’ Not, ‘Are you looking for something in particular?’ Not even a, ‘Are you lost?’ This was a terse, ‘Honey, I know you’re lost and I know trouble. I want nothin’ to do with either.’

“Yes,” you jumped forward, matching her eagerness to rush you out. “I’m um… I’m not from here and—“

“Well I can see that.”

Bucky stepped in then, a scowl as deep as her own. He turned it down on you though. If you could kick yourself, you would. One of his rules of being on the run – don’t give away unnecessary information. Not who you are, where you’re going, who’s coming for you, not even what you need. Be nondescript. This was a difficult rule to follow when you were a nervous talker, when your sympathy scale was off the charts and the best way you knew to communicate was to connect in a personal way.

“We need to use your computer,” Bucky said simply. “You have internet here?”

She pointed to a back corner of the building. “Yeah. We even have indoor plumbing,” she grumbled.

“Well, she hates us,” you fidgeted, leaning close to whisper at Bucky’s shoulder as he led the way toward the computers. “You remember people you hate. She’s going to report us or something.”

Bucky chuckled as he looked back at you. “To who?”

“I don’t know… a Mountie? Loki could be anywhere right? Anyone?”

“Loki is from another planet. He’s not Interpol. There’s no hotline running for us. Far as she knows we’re a couple on a fishing trip.”

“Really? You don’t think she’ll remember us?”

He shrugged, pulling a chair over beside the one he took in front of the computer. “She wouldn’t have remembered some idiot who forgot to wipe his boots. Probably gonna remember ‘I’m not from here, please like me,’” he teased, donning a high squeak of a voice.

You smacked his arm with the back of your hand. “That’s not what I sound like.” A glance over your shoulder at the woman unfurling a cough drop at the desk. “She just looks so unhappy. How many people smile at her in a day, you think?”

“Not enough,” Bucky agreed. Grim places made for grim people. Harsh living and meager needs made even the softest people harden at the edges. Necessity, he called it. Survival.

“See. I might be the weirdo that cowered at the library door, but she’ll have a story to tell her partner when she gets home. Bet she’ll laugh about it.”

Bucky chuckled, sparing a glance over to you as he booted up the software. The computer was ancient and it made a dissatisfied grinding noise at the request.

“You laughed at least,” she nudged his shoulder with her own.

“That wasn’t a laugh,” he argued, failing to stifle a grin. “That was a… a snort at best.”

“Oh come on. There was at least a chortle.”

“A what?”

“A chortle! Look it up, we’re in a library. Ma’am!” you hollered, turning over your shoulder and waving.

“Knock it off!” Bucky laughed, reaching for your arm and pinning it to your side.

“Ma’am, could you point my friend here toward the dictionaries, he needs to look up a word—Umpfh!”

He’d clapped a hand over your mouth, the other still firmly wrapped around your arm, enveloping you thoroughly.

“No, we’re fine with the computer. Internet, so helpful,” he hollered, over your muffled chuckle.

The soft tickle of breath on his hand, the gentle shake of your laughing shoulders set off that warm, brightness in his chest. He was smiling down at you as he let go.

“Well I definitely got a smile, at least,” you nudged when he did lift his hand away. “You don’t smile enough either.”

“I smile.” His brow crinkled, like he wanted to scowl, but then… he would be proving your point. So he kept a half a smirk on his lips.

“Well, yeah, everybody smiles sometimes. But you rarely, and you never laugh—“

“I do too. I laughed yesterday when you fell on the stairs.”

“That was rude. You didn’t warn me they ice up like that.”

“It was funny,” he shrugged. “You looked like a cartoon. You should’ve seen your face.”

“You should see your face, Sir Scowls-A-Lot.”

“Scowl?” His eyes went wide and the smile threatened to erupt into an astonished laugh.

“Yes. You have the worst case of RBF I’ve ever seen.”

“What the hell is RBF…?” he wondered. But by now you were talking over each other, arguing and laughing all at once.

“People say, ‘If looks could kill…’ but, really. When you’re grumpy it’s like… if looks could kill, gimme Captain America’s shield because, nothing could stop those silver bullets.”

“It’s not that bad,” he rolled his eyes, typing away on the keyboard.

“It is. I mean, it’s fine, it’s a good looking face, so it works. But it’s a definite scowl.”

“A good looking face?” His entire visage lit into a grin now. His grey eyes were sharp and glittering like the cat that got the canary.

You were suddenly, glaringly aware that you’d been carrying on about all the little looks you’d noticed about your indefinite bodyguard all while you were still pressed tight against him from shoulder to hip. Heat flooded your cheeks and nose and throat at a record pace as you scrambled for a proverbial ripcord.

“Oh, you know you’re handsome.” When had denial ever worked for anyone? Misdirection, was clearly the way out. “Don’t act like I’m the first person to tell you that.”

He was still as marble for a long moment while you picked at your nails. The grin had dimmed a little, no longer a beaming mischievous thing, it had settled to a gentle warmth. He was Bucky again, the one who carefully assuaged your fears, who listened, who made eggs when hot pockets wouldn’t do.

“No,” he agreed finally and you looked up at the sweet softness of his tone. “First time in a long time it’s mattered to me, though. For some damn reason… I care what you think.”

“Hello?? Is this thing even working??” Tony’s voice thrummed angrily through the computer’s speakers. “Barnes, can you hear me?”

Bucky took a sharp breath, deep into his lungs, breathing in the last of the stillness between you and taking it with him when he turned to the monitor. “Yeah,” he said and then he was talking to Tony. Something about a Doctor and the big bang and some powerful stones. But you couldn’t take your eyes off of Bucky.

Tony was irritable. Fuming, actually. The “doot-doot blub-blub-ting doot-doot” of the videocall ringtone repeated again, fueling the inferno. Waiting on technology was not something he was accustomed to. Waiting for inelegant, vulnerable technology that was too old to exist to project an image of the inside of his offices out into the world, well that would have been an a resolute No before today. But his teammates are nothing if not stubborn. Barnes most of all.

“Finally!” he sighed, leaning forward and peering at the image. “Why is it so grainy. I can’t… That’s a terrible picture.”

“It’s good enough,” Dr. Strange deadpanned beside him.

“No that can’t be it. Connection’s bad or something. They can’t even hear us talking!” He began waving haphazardly at the screen, hoping to catch the eye of the soldier or the stone-keeper.

That’s when he noticed what was actually on the screen. Bucky’s arm around you, tightly. A laugh. The goddamn Winter Soldier, your guardian for this mission, looking down at you as though he…

“Holy shit,” Tony mumbled, leaning closer. “Are you seeing this?”

“Yeah, you have to allow the app to access your microphone,” Strange rolled his eyes, entirely missing the point.

“Hey, Rogers?” Tony called just as Steve strode into the room, slightly out of breath. “I think your bestie has compromised the mission.”

His eyes were glued to the screen as Steve leaned his shoulder with a hand on the desk to get a closer look.

“Indeed,” he hummed through a grin as he watched the screen.

“What?” Tony frowned up at him.

Steve shook his head minutely. “Bucky’s fine. He’s only ever failed one mission. And I’m not this mission.”

Tony’s frown never lifted as his eyes darted over Steve. Doubt clouded them for but a moment. He hammered a quick line of code into the digital projection of a keyboard and swiped the screen away.

“Hello?? Is this thing even working??” Tony asked after patching the room’s audio systems through to the rudimentary video conferencing software. “Barnes, can you hear me?”

Not a second later, Steve – or rather Loki projecting himself as Steve – noticed a slight shift in the cameras in the room. One after another, they made slow sweeping turns until he stood squarely within each and every frame.

Part 18 >>

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader angst #bodyguard bucky #bucky fanfiction

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mandowh0re · 3 years

Text

Remember Me

Chapter 3

Summary: While cleaning up the timelines that he broke, Loki meets and inevitably loses the one person that’s understood him in life. But he’s not losing you without a fight.

A/N: Beta’d by the ever beautiful @edgyvege. Go show her some love!

Warnings: Mention of suicide, attempted kidnapping

Word Count: 2892

Happy Reading!

When Loki is finally confident enough that he wouldn’t look like a fool, he settles down in his bed and grabs the book you had given him, and enters the number inside the cover.

He ignores the fact that his hands tremble as he taps ‘call’ with his index finger.

The phone rings a few times before you pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hello, darling.”

“Loki?”

“Is anyone else calling you ‘darling’? That would certainly be a shame,” he grins as he settles back into the pillows behind him.

He hears you giggle before you respond, “No. Just you. I think if anyone else called me that I’d punch them.”

“That would be intriguing.”

You giggle again, “I miss you.”

It’s a moment before he replies. Loki bites his lip, butterflies coming to life in his stomach, “It’s only been a few days, dear.”

“I know. I still miss you though,” you rub your finger across the wood grain of the counter.

“I miss you as well. Please know, this is not how I would court you if I had things my way.”

“Court me?”

“I-” he sits up, “Ah. I thought… Was I not-“

“I’m kidding,” You interrupt his sudden anxious rambling, “Calm down.”

He hears you chuckle and he takes a few careful deep breaths.

Joking.

Typical of you.

“You think you are funny, darling?” Loki pokes as he rests back into his pillow.

“I like to believe so,” You turn away from the counter and lean against it.

“You are lucky that I find you so endearing,” His voice is deep.

“Is that so?” You tongue your cheek.

“It is,” His voice is even and playful again.

The conversation flows from there, easily and freely. The two of you talk about nothing and everything for hours. When the conversation would die down, one of you would grasp for a new topic, neither one of you wanting to end the call.

It becomes a daily routine. Every evening, Loki would call and the two of you would often talk late into the night until you didn't have a choice but to go to bed for work the next morning.

It’s Thursday again, and you’re floating around your shop, hanging some new decor you had bought to brighten up the small space.

It’s been two months since Loki first showed up, and you can’t remember a time when you were happier.

There was no label between the two of you. You sometimes wished there was. But Loki, though confident and smooth talking, seemed to hold some reservations. He never shared them with you, but you could tell in the small changes of his expressions or body language when the flirting began to go too far, or how he expertly changed the subject if the conversation veered too far into relationship territory.

But even so, you were content. You finally had two good friends, after years of pushing away anyone who got too close. The fear of hurting those closest to you, or vise versa, always creeping in the back of your mind.

Your mind tried to make you do the same with Loki, and eventually Thor, but the rational part of you knew that they could protect themselves. At the same time, something deep inside of your soul somehow knew that you could trust the raven-haired god.

And it annoyed you to no end. You always did your best to follow reason. It was your way of ensuring your own and others’ safety. But it felt impossible to ignore the feeling of security you had around him.

The windchimes tinkle once again and you smile to yourself. You’re standing on a chair to reach the low ceiling, taping some colorful paper flowers to the dull off-white paint.

“Hey, Loki.” You greet happily, applying the last piece of tape and stepping down from the chair.

There’s a hand on your waist, and, thinking it’s Loki, you turn and go to place your hands on his chest only to see a tall, brooding man behind you. You jump, and take a step backwards.

He’s dressed in civilian clothes, but you know better. You see the edges of a tattoo peeking from just beneath his jacket collar. There’s an indent in his jeans, suggesting he’s concealing a knife. And his boots are almost military grade.

Your eyes flick towards the door, hoping to see Loki walk in.

He doesn’t.

“Can I help you with something?” You ask, taking a subtle step back.

His eyes scrape down your body and you’re suddenly sick to your stomach. Whether he’s sizing you up, searching for weapons, or just looking at you like a piece of meat, you’re unsure. But you don’t like it.

“Your presence is requested.”

You raise a brow and try to take another step back, but the bookshelf behind you keeps you from moving any further.

“You should leave,” You tell him, narrowing your eyes, “And tell Hayward to go to hell.”

He grabs your wrists and pulls you flush against him, his hot breath fanning across your face, “Listen here, little girl. You’re coming with me, quietly. I have never failed a mission, and I don’t plan on starting today.”

Realizing you have no other options, you brace yourself against the shelf behind you as you begin to call upon the energy around you, white light balling between your captive hands. It reflects against the various decorations you had just hung up, them swaying just slightly and the growing wind around you, and just before you blast the agent to hell, a different force rips him from you.

Because his hands are still connected to you, the force makes you tumble forwards, slamming into the ground with him. You lift your head from the carpet and look up, confused as hell, and your eyes immediately land on Loki. He must have come in right after you had been grabbed. You didn’t even hear the windchimes this time.

Loki’s eyes seem to glow just slightly, and he looks absolutely furious. He leans down to pick your attacker up by the throat and slams him against a wall, a knife materializing in Loki’s other hand. He raises it to the man’s throat in an instant, leans in, and sneers, “I should kill you where you stand for even gazing upon her,” Loki growls, pressing the knife further into his skin and drawing blood, “Touching her?” Another millimeter deeper, “That deserves a punishment worse than death.”

Your brain suddenly catches up to the situation and you run up to Loki, grabbing his arm, “Hey! Hey, I’m okay!” You tug at him gently, hoping to keep him from committing murder in the middle of your store.

“Brother!” A familiar voice booms behind you. You spin on your heels to see Thor, an annoyed expression on his face.

“He attacked me,” You blurt, knowing that Loki could get in a lot of trouble for this outburst, “Loki was just trying to help.”

Thor looks at you, his expression softening, before he looks back to the other two men and walks over to them. He places a large hand on Loki’s shoulder, “Brother, let me deal with him. We do not want to cause a spectacle.”

Loki’s hold on the man tightens, before he rips himself away, his knife disappearing allowing a trickle of blood to leave the cut on the man’s throat.

Thor made a call and the man was subsequently arrested and taken away.

After the cruiser drives off, Thor walks back into the shop where he had left you and Loki, and offers you a kind smile.

“Brother, what do you say we bring her back to the compound for the evening?”

Loki’s head snaps up, his eyes landing on his brother’s, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Thor shrugs, “I don’t see why not.”

Loki looks to you and intertwines his fingers with yours, “What do you think?”

You smile back at him, squeezing his hand, “Sounds good to me.”

***

After locking up the store, Thor and Loki guide you to the empty alleyway they usually use for Loki to transport them.

There’s a tingling sensation all over your body, and gold specks dot your vision before you’re suddenly on a grass lawn. You look up and your eyes blow wide, seeing the Avengers Compound right in front of you. The place is huge. You’d seen pictures before, but never imagined it to be as large and complex as what you’re currently seeing.

As Thor leads you both toward the silver and glimmering building in front of you, you feel Loki’s hand slip into yours again.

You look up to him and smile before your eyes are pulled away, meeting the glances of the compound staff as your presence momentarily distracts them from their current tasks.

You step into Loki’s space, pushing yourself closer to his side, making the others’ glances fade from your attention as his proximity makes you feel safer.

Once making your way past the main yard, and a long driveway, you arrive at what you assume is the main entrance of the building, though you do not stop there. Thor finally stops when you meet him in a back hallway near one of two elevators. Thor presses the call button, taking you gods know where.

You’re still pressed into Loki, though now you’re using him as a crutch, feeling a little faint. Whether from the dramatic turn of events or the teleportation, you have no idea. Either way, this wasn’t what you had expected for today and in all honesty, you’re incredibly overwhelmed.

“Is everything alright?” Loki asks, noticing the extra weight against him and your increasingly labored breaths.

You nod, but the movement makes you dizzy and you clutch onto Loki, eyes screwing shut, “I think I need to lie down.”

Thor and Loki exchange worried glances.

“Take her to your room. I shall speak with the others.”

Loki nods, carefully sweeping you into his arms. As soon as the metal doors slide open, he makes a beeline towards his own room. He unlocks his door with magic, a shimmering green momentarily covering the knob before disappearing. The door opens itself, allowing Loki to keep from jostling you too much.

He walks over to his bed, carefully depositing you on top. He grabs the soft green throw blanket that Peter had gotten him as a welcome gift some time ago and carefully places it over your form. He leans down and brushes the hair away from your face, nimble fingers softly caressing your face.

“You have had quite a day. Rest now.”

You smile at him, pulling the blanket farther over yourself.

“Stay?”

Loki smiles warmly, before climbing into bed with you, his back resting against the headboard. You turn to snuggle into him, and soon you’re fast asleep.

***

You wake a few hours later, feeling much better than you had earlier in the day. You notice that the space next to you is now empty, and you sit up to take in your surroundings.

The room is a generous size. The walls are painted grey, and the bed is larger than any bed you’ve slept on, adorned with a fluffy and extremely soft black comforter. There’s a dark stained heavy wooden dresser against one of the walls, a large gold mirror hanging above it. A large bookshelf lines the same wall, filled to the brim with books, and you notice that every book you recommended to him in the last two months were on a shelf of their own.

On another wall, a desk is tucked into the corner, neat and organized with a small black leather book sitting atop. To the left of the large bed is a closed door, and on the right is a door that’s slightly ajar, and you can see it’s an ensuite bathroom.

One of the walls is completely made up of floor to ceiling windows, and the room faces the west so you can see the colors of the sky morphing into an array of purples, oranges, and pinks as the sun sets. It’s a breathtaking sight.

You climb out of the bed, keeping the fluffy blanket around your shoulders. Curious as to where Loki had gone, you leave the room, looking both ways to try and remember which way you had come from earlier. Choosing at random, you begin your small journey, hoping to everything that you don’t run into an Avenger. How the hell were you supposed to explain that one?

Apparently, you chose correctly because the further you go, you begin to hear voices.

You peek around the corner to see a large open living area, and your jaw drops. Whenever you imagined the Avengers’ living space, you imagined sleek, modern decor, and expensive as shit furniture that would look as if nobody even used it.

And while you were mostly correct, you were also met with a bright room with floor to ceiling windows, picture frames on the walls and tables. The black leather chairs and couches looked well loved, and there were different colored throw blankets all over the place.

Loki was sat next to Thor on a loveseat, while several other members of the team were scattered throughout the room.

You hadn’t even been listening to what they were saying, but you hear your name and you immediately hone in on the conversation, hiding behind the wall once more.

“All I’m saying is that a little notice would have been nice.” You think the voice belongs to Tony Stark.

“If it was any other circumstance, it would have been planned ahead of time. But after she was attacked, I don’t believe any of us were comfortable with leaving her alone.” That was Thor.

“Speaking of, I called the police department to ask about her attacker. They said he committed suicide with cyanide.” Natasha states.

The entire room falls into silence, before Steve pipes up, “That sounds a bit too familiar.”

“Why would HYDRA be after her?” Clint asks, and everyone looks to Loki.

Loki shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Brother?” Thor pushes.

Loki sighs, “I promised her I would not tell a soul.”

“Look, Loki,” Steve moves closer to the edge of his seat, “I understand you want to protect her, but we can’t help you protect her without knowing why she’s being targeted.”

“I can protect her myself.” Loki growls, but Thor gently places his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“You can, but she would be safer with all of us protecting her. You have not dealt with HYDRA before, and therefore do not understand their capabilities. You trust me, and I trust my team. Tell us why Y/N is being hunted.” Thor tries to reason.

Loki sighs again, and you wonder what the hell they’re talking about. It wasn’t HYDRA who was after you. It was SWORD… Right? You feel nerves begin to take hold of you, and you clutch at the fabric around your shoulders.

And how the hell did Loki know why they wanted you? You hadn’t told him anything about that specific part of your past or of your abilities, much less making him promise anything.

So your heart falls to your stomach when you hear Loki’s next words.

“She has these… Abilities. She can manipulate the energy around her to do just about anything she wants. Back in timeline 656, she used her powers to help the resistance and destroy that timeline. But here, in this timeline, she has yet to mention these powers to me. I think she’s afraid. I know that her parents were SHIELD agents and were killed while on a mission when she was ten years of age.”

“If her parents were part of SHIELD, they may have been involved with HYDRA.” Tony offers.

“I think we have a visitor.” Wanda says, effectively ending the conversation.

You curse internally, but don’t move in hopes that maybe she was talking about someone else.

But suddenly Loki steps around the corner, a horrified look on his face, “Darling?”

You look up at him, and suddenly you’re angry. You’re unsure why. Maybe it’s because you worked so hard in life to stay off the radar of people like the Avengers. Maybe it’s because your efforts in keeping your secret to yourself were in vain because somehow Loki still knows. Maybe it’s because you’re suddenly terrified. Of yourself, of the Avengers, of HYDRA.

Your eyes flick over to the Avengers, who are now all looking at you in silence.

Loki moves to touch you, but suppressed survival instincts kick in and a blast of white energy bursts from your body, sending Loki flying into another wall. Your hands fly to your mouth.

“I- I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean-”

Thor steps closer to you, hands up in a placating gesture, “It’s alright. Take a breath. Nobody is going to hurt you.”

You take a step back, seeing all the horrified eyes on you.

Loki can see where this is going, so with a flick of his hand, he puts you to sleep, jumping to catch you before you hit the ground.

“This is what I wanted to avoid.” He spits, hoisting you up for the second time that day.

“Loki-” Thor tries, but he’s gone before the god can finish.

***

Remember Me taglist: @idunnomayn @savinasavers @stardust-walker @evelyn-4034 @dazedkrosupreme @sophlubbwriting @albinoclifford @nappinggecko

Permanent Taglist: @a-place-to-blog-marvel-stuff @yes-iamironman-blog @paradoxicalblueberry @the-regal-warrior @transparentparadiseglitterzombie @marvelgem @propertyofmarvel @avngrsinitiative @my-leg-is-not-a-chew-toy @lyricalstella-blog @just-the-daydreamer @hufflely-puffly

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dilfbane · 3 years

Text

Your Weeping(Your Need For His Touch)

Summary: When things go south on a mission, you have to confront more than just the sketchy town, cartoon villains, and one-bed hotel room you’re forced to share with Loki. You have to come to terms with not only the consequences of being captured, but also the God of Mischief’s feelings for you - Because for all that he might be an asshole, sometimes, he really does have a heart. Written for the Picture Is Worth A 1,000 Words 6k Follower Writing Challenge by @startrekkingaroundasgard

Pairing: Loki/(Female)Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries and medical treatment, as well as discussions of the inevitable mindset around sacrificing oneself for the mission that I feel like being part of the Avengers would entail. Also swearing, because at its core, this story started out as a bit of a crack! fic.

Word Count: 7.8k.

A/N: So apparently when I have mental breakdowns they result in me writing crack-fic that takes a 180 veer into angst and fluff for absolutely no reason. For the sake of the crack-fic, in this timeline Loki was forced to help the Avengers take down bad guys directly after the end of the first Avengers movie, so… Is that a confusing plot hole I didn’t know how to account for except by making this AU? Maybe. Did I do it anyway?…. Yeah. This really was meant to be a crack-fic about Loki and the reader confessing their feelings set in the bizarre world of meme culture, I didn’t realize there were going to be feels in it until it was three in the morning and all of a sudden this happened. That being said, your girl went there, so enjoy!

“Oh, shit,” You say, as you take in the grimy hotel room. The walls all smeared in what looks like dried blood, the putrid smell of rotten eggs, a crack-screened television with a fine dusting of some suspiciously white powder. And, of course, “There’s one bed.”

“Hmm?” Asks Loki, turning towards you, briefly, from unpacking. He had dumped his suitcase(Magically plucked out of a chaotic liminal space) unceremoniously on the bed’s scratching, pilling coverlet without so much as a second glance at the rest of the room. And why do you need a suitcase, anyways?? You wonder. It isn’t like we’re planning to be here that long. In fact, you hoped with every fiber of your being that you’d be here for as little time as possible, because this town might actually be the sketchiest place you’ve ever seen in your life; no small feat, for a bona-fide member of S.H.I.E.L.D.

You’ve kicked alien ass on a mutated purple Mongolian death-worm three thousand feet over New York City. You’ve run reconnaissance to rescue debatably-magical items sequestered away in an ancient cave labyrinth plastered in paintings and untranslatable runes, gunfire and what could only be described as the baying of hellhounds in the near distance. You’ve fist-fought a gigantic hive-mind robot in a field of artificially sentient feral steel suits - You’ve even survived Tony’s parties.

Yet none of those scenarios hold a candle to this fucking town.

And Loki, the asshat, seems utterly, competently - no, maniacally - unfazed.

“There’s one bed,” You repeat, into the air.

“Ah,” Says Loki, straightening.

“You don’t see that problem with that?!”

“Should I?” He asks you, walking across the room in long, graceful strides to stand in front of you. He wears the same expression he always wears, amused and indifferent, but this time with the addition of a single, elegantly-arched eyebrow. You drop your head, refusing to meet his somewhat-curious gaze. It physically hurts, how attractive Loki is. Not for the first time, you curse whatever god decided that you and him would once again be mission partners - in this case, you belatedly realize, and choke back a thick laugh, said god is, unsurprisingly, Thor.

If you survive this, you make a note to beat his head in with Mjolnir. As it is, you are here in this room with Loki, with perhaps twenty IPP agents and a reckless poisoner dogging your every move, and there’s a high chance that you won’t live long enough to navigate whatever the hell sleeping with your crush-who-has-murdered-men. Ok, so ‘murdered men’ isn’t entirely accurate. More like ‘caused the murder of men inadvertently through his schemes’. It doesn’t seem to make much of a difference, right now.

And what about Loki? He is still staring you down, like you’re some wind up toy moments away from going off. Funny, that, you think. If ever there were a time to not have a mental breakdown, it would be here, with him. You’ve crossed a lot of moral lines in your life, but you will be damned if you let Loki Laufeysson see you cry. Loki is graceful. Composed. Sarcastic. Lithe. Rolls his eyes at almost every statement that comes out of somebody’s mouth. But he is, also, beautiful. Shockingly comforting, in his own nihilistic way. You don’t know what it says about you that you find comfort in statements like, Try not to die, you know that I hate funerals. Part of you - most of you - doesn’t want to. But it gives you strength, somehow, to shrug off the day and ground your flailing mind in evading Loki’s calculated manipulation. I won’t show you my weakness, you think to yourself. It’s not enough, but it’s a start.

“No,” You tell him - too quickly, he’ll pick up on that - “You’re right, you shouldn’t. It’s fine. We have - a lot to deal with, is all.”

Loki nods, seemingly accepting your answer, but his eyes are still narrowed, watching you like he’s calling your bluff. You talk right past that look - have to, to keep yourself sane, to not think about the one bed that looms large over this entire conversation. It doesn’t even look like a comfortable bed.

“We have two days,” You say, to stop yourself thinking of it. And, also, to talk your way through your disarmingly disjointed thoughts. Loki nods. It would really help if you said something, you think. Swallow the thought, hot and thick, down your throat. What’s the point of a mission partner if you can’t even soundboard off them? “The Pink Cobra could strike anyone, anytime. The IPP is planning something in New York - “

“Isn’t everyone, these days, planning something in New York?”

He sounds regretful, and for half a second you want to offer him the reassurance that his very presence offers you. But you are sure he doesn’t know what he does to you - with his words, with the sidelong glances that you’ve felt linger on your form far too long in the heat of a fight. If you didn’t know any better, you would say Loki worries about you.

“We have to shut him down,” You say. Focus on the Pink Cobra, because honestly, that’s easier. “Find out where he manufactures. Not get poisoned,” You add, at the end.

“Yes,” Loki says, tone dripping with sarcasm, “We should certainly try not to get ourselves killed. Failing that, I suppose, we can at least request that no one in H.Y.D.R.A gets autopsy access.”

“Loki?” You ask. Rhetorically. “You’re not helping.”

He smirks at you, then. He knows.

“What do you propose that we do then?” He asks, taking a step towards you, getting so close that you can feel his hot breath. “About the Pink Cobra?”

“Find him.” You say, fumbling, blush rising high on your cheeks.

Tonight?

One bed?

You are screwed.

***

When you were a kid - think really little, Capri Sun pouches and still believing that true love wasn’t complicated - your father told you that every story needed a good supervillain. You aren’t sure if the Pink Cobra counts as a good supervillain, but he’s the least confusing one that you have to deal with - and, as far as villains go, a fine enough challenge to face. He’s like a madman out of some high fantasy novel, with dark eyes and a sable-sewn cloak and a penchant for poisoning. He is adept in all the arts of the woman’s murder; he has a keen grasp on the side-effects of arsenic and camphor and tansy and cyanide and strychnine. He’s been found to have dropped crystal phials filled with belladonna and ricin while fleeing a scene. If all else fails, he’s more than practiced with daggers.

In other words, he’s the kind of villain that none of you, with your flying suits and telekinesis and super-strength, are anywhere near prepared to waylay.

The plan, as far as team Avengers is concerned, is easy:

You and Loki. This town, where the webs of his manufacturing production and the few glimpses of information that Thor has totally legally excavated out of his captured minions has led to. Two days until some undefined grand attack bears down on the city you live in. Two days to find the Pink Cobra and kill him. The more time passes with no headway, the more you think that this is an impossible task, but you know what Tony would say. We have our best minds on it.

The thing is, you aren’t sure that that’s true. The minds that have been set to this task are you and the God of Lies. It’s hardly the best they could have come up with, considering your track records. Actually, you take that back - Loki was a good choice for this mission, because, not three hours after arriving in this hellhole of a city, he seems to have somehow developed the ability to read minds. More specifically, yours. And that could prove stunningly useful.

The scene, as it stands: Loki, sprawled across the lumpy bed, three pairs of crisp white shirts, a plaid scarf, and a full set of Asgardian battle armor neatly hung in the mothball-infested closet, flicking through channels on the grain, cracked television with an apathetic expression and one arm thrown haphazardly over bent leg. Propped up in such a way that he could jump or spin or parry at a moment’s notice, yet perfectly, devastatingly languid, leafing through Nick Fury’s dossier on the Pink Cobra. He looks at you like a god, you think, and then remember. He is one.

You, on the floor, because on top of all the other things this hotel doesn’t have, like two beds, there isn’t anything even resembling a desk, shifting through a glowing, holographed file archive from headquarters that barely runs on your severely outdated laptop. It’s a point of pride to you, keeping the laptop - not because it’s good, but because it’s survived five years of being an Avenger, which is something not even all the Avengers can claim to have done. You’re also fairly certain that Tony’s attempts to update the firmware had infested it with some sort of renegade virus. Elevated above your screen, the files are split into two groups, the sum total of everything that you know about both of the groups that are avidly trying to kill you.

There’s the wealth of information containing the Pink Cobra’s poisoning sprees, but those aren’t the files that interest you, and you know that Loki’s not much interested in them either. That honor falls to the fanatics at the IPP, the Imminently Predictable Psyops organization, which you know even less about than you do about the Pink Cobra, chief among which the fact that they need a new name. Imminently Predictable Psyops?, Tony had said, when you’d finally apprehended one of their proxies. What do they think this is? Some type of ARG?

What you’ve gleaned, from months worth of studying the network, is that they operate as a sort of cringe-oriented death cult intent on ‘reshaping the universe through meme agents’. They’d been on S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar for a long time - upwards of a year - before anyone at team base learned they existed - which, you can almost hear Loki saying, was a failure in the extreme. Currently, it was your job to obsessively worry over whether they were going to send ‘meme agents’ to bust through the door of your seedy hotel room and off you both. You hated - truly loathed - how casually Loki was taking it all.

He’s acting like nothing was wrong with this situation, when, in fact, you’re ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that this night will end up with one or both of you dead. It is, to say the least, disconcerting.

Kill switch, the holograph files read. Cross-referential Neil Cicierega acoustic weaponry. Your mind sees the words, but doesn’t comprehend them, and you run a hand up to rub at your bleary eyes with annoyance. You risk a glance upwards; on the bed, Loki scans page after page after page with disinterested nonchalance, punctuating the flipping over of each document with a noncommittal hum; as if to say, I understand you. As it to say, This could be worse. You try to slip into that mindset. Certainly, things could be worse.

Actually, though? Not really.

Because, for all the world, the holo-file in front of you just said ‘Pepe The Frog Chaos Banking Laser Initiative’.

“What the fuck does that even mean?!”

“Sorry?”

You whip your head around. Loki, raising an eyebrow. Damn that - perfect - eyebrow.

“Sorry,” You echo back at him, rubbing your eyes again, perversely glad for the break, even if it is this awkward. “I … said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Marginally,” He tells you. “Yes.”

“Sorry,” You - well, it’s not a whine, not exactly. You’re tired, and there’s no way you’re going to sleep tonight, so you feel like your tone’s justified. “I didn’t mean to do that. I think I’m just - this is. Completely nonsensical.”

“Show me?” He asks, and you snort. He could totally just look up, but -

“Do you have a P.h.d in memes?” You ask him, and, before he can answer, “Because unless you have a P.h.d in memes, I don’t think you’ll be able to help.”

“You’d be surprised,” Loki says. Vaults over the bed with the speed and grace of a panther, filling the air with a cringing wheeze as the rusty springs bend underneath him, and landing in front of the holo-file, pushing you aside slightly to get a better view. When his fingers brush against your side, cool and firm, you flinch.

“Tired,” You offer, when he shoots you a momentarily concerned look. “Just. Need to sleep, later, I think.”

But Loki is already scanning the file, and when he looks up, not five seconds later, you want to hit somebody. Preferably, you think, him.

“I would assume,” Loki says, “That they’re using time travel in order to obtain and store monetary value by way of a Pepe-the-frog inspired laser array.”

“Oh,” You say. You blink once. Blink twice. Still have no idea what that means. “Right.”

“Do you not know your memes, love?” He asks you, smirking. And oh, if you don’t feel things.

“I don’t go on the internet, much,” You tell him. “Too busy, you know, trying not to get killed.”

Loki shrugs. Sidles away from the file. The groan and squeak of those springs tells you he’s back on the bed, giving you some well-needed space, but you can’t bring yourself to look.

“You can sleep,” He says, “If you want.”

“Ha!” You yelp/choke/embarrassingly bleat out into the room’s stale silence. Underneath the rotten eggs, you catch a whiff of bong-water. “No.”

“There’s a bed,” Loki says, cocking his head pointedly and patting the lumpy covers.

“Yeah, that’s - kind of the problem.”

“Why?” He asks you.

“You - really?”

“I was only asking,” Says Loki, re-focusing his attention on whichever Pink Cobra document’s next in the folder. “If you aren’t comfortable telling me - I merely thought, seeing as you were tired, you might take this opportunity to rest.”

“Yeah,” You tell him, “Of course, that’s - nice of you.”

It comes out stilted. Patently off. If he notices, he doesn’t say.

“Are you going to - um. Do you need help, with the rest? The ones I have seem kind of hopeless. I mean,” You say, when he doesn’t look up, “I don’t think that we have to worry about getting demolished by trans-dimensional Agarthian wormholes.”

“Of course not,”” Loki says, scoffing and incredulous, gaze, you are sure, on his page. “If they wanted to kill us, they’d send someone with a gun.”

In reality, it’s several someones.

***

“You jinxed it,” Is the first thing you tell him, when the men leave you. They’ve thrown you into a one-room warehouse, rickety shelves stacked with cartoonish tubs of green goop and mildewing boxes filled with grenades and machine guns and what appears, at second-glance, to be twelve-fingered latex gloves. You’re tied wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle, and your throat feels uncharacteristically parched. Fear, you tell yourself. Apprehension. “Can’t you just - use your seidr to magic us out of this?”

If you could see him - which you can’t, because you’ve been tied back to back - you’d swear that Loki was glaring.

“Do you - do you have a plan?” You ask, after a moment.

“I’m working on it,” He says.

“That’s all?” You say. “We were dragged out of our drug-dealer’s hotel room by a bunch of robed men with guns and the only thing you have to say is ‘I’m working on it?’”

“I’d get it done faster,” Says Loki, “If you wouldn’t interrupt me.”

“Ok,” You tell him, “No interrupting you. Got it. That’s - Alright.”

Unfortunately, not interrupting him is easier said than done, because without the sound of your voice, you are left to your thoughts.

The men had broken in nearly immediately after Loki’s glib, sardonic retort to your worries, shooting the glass out of the room’s already half-smashed-in window and kicking the door in simultaneously. A bit much, isn’t it?, Loki’d asked, and you had wanted to smack yourself on the forehead. Really not the time, you had hissed, but Loki hadn’t seemed to hear you. Do you do this with everyone they send you to assassinate?, he had asked, instead. The men had been dressed in long, billowing cloaks of bright red, embroidered with orange snakes framing a picture of Beaker from the muppets with early 2000’s emo hair. Chaotic meme agents, you had thought to yourself. So that’s what they’re supposed to look like.

You hadn’t picked up, until now, on the snakes.

“They’re working together,” You say, when you can’t stand the playback of Loki being disarmed after spinning and tossing his silver daggers at the men, of the men kneeing him in the balls and twisting your arms behind your back, holding a gun to your head to stop you from trying to fight. Waking up in the back of a van that smelled like microwaved fish. Being tossed like garbage onto the floor of the warehouse, painted in bruises and cuts from the small pieces of glass that had dug their way into your skin. “The IPP and the Pink Cobra.”

“Obviously,” Loki says. Sharply.

“Did Tony not -“

“Stark,” Loki practically growls, and, ok, you’re not losing it but that did make you jump in your skin, “Is an idiot. He wouldn’t know how to connect the dots if they were presented to him in a Buzzfeed Unsolved episode.”

“That’s - You had that on Asgard?” You ask him, momentarily distracted. You wish that you could see Loki’s face, and are very glad that you can’t.

“That isn’t the point,” Loki says.

“I know,” You tell him. You’re scared that your voice is trembling. Scared that he can tell, even though he’s not facing you, how badly your fingers are shaking. Scared that he knows your worst, biggest secret -

That, despite being an Avenger, you are anxious. That, despite him being Loki, despite him being here, and wonderfully, infuriatingly himself, he cannot help you, this time.

You are going to die, covered in cuts and abrasions, on the floor of a meme network’s headquarters, at three a.m in the morning. They are going to come in with umbrellas that shoot poison darts or the ex-presidents Point Break masks and mow you down, and Loki has no fucking plan. You feel the ropes tighten where they’re knotted, itchy and fierce, and you have to fight to keep yourself from whining in terror and nerves. Whining isn’t what Loki needs right now. Whining’s not going to save you.

What is going to save you, you try and remind yourself, is Loki. If you can shut up. If you can let him decipher what needs to be done. If he can figure out some way to do it before the blowtorch-wielding robed vigilantes or some disincarnate meme god comes back and draws their electronically-sharpened fingernails across your throat hard enough to split skin and sinew, send waves of blood down the front of your shirt like a river of sweet, thick red honey and toss your corpse in a ditch by a highway and -

“Y/N?” It is foggy, barely-heard. Posh. “Y/N!” Louder, this time. There are fingers on your wrist, bent backwards to grip you. Squeezing, insistent and there. “Breathe.”

Fuck, you think. You’d started to hyperventilate. To shake, with a full-body tremor that forecasts a great, unstoppable wave of sobbing panic. And Loki had noticed. “I need you to trust me,” He says. “Trust me to get us out of this. Can you do that for me, darling?”

He has never called you darling before, but God how you’ve wanted him to. You feel like you’re being stabbed in the heart - because there is no way he means it, no way that this is anything other than a desperate and cruel attempt to get you to calm down. Something that belies how obvious you are. How needy you are. How pathetic. And yet -

And yet, he doesn’t say it meanly. He speaks like he cares about you, and in the face of your impending death, you want to think Loki cares. You’d let him say anything, do anything to you, right now. More than that, though, more than any of that - as you think back to meeting him, to your blossoming late-night friendship and twitchy banter and the quiet moments you’ve shared with him in-between battles -

“I trust you, Loki,” You tell him, and feel your breath quiet in you. Feel yourself growing still and calm with the certainty that Loki will do as he’s said.

That you will survive this.

That -

“Good,” Loki says. Not relieved, but determined. Leaving you no room to argue.

“So what do we do?” You ask him.

“Nothing,” Says Loki, and you can hear his wide grin.

“Nothing?” You ask him, gawking.

“Nothing,” Says Loki. He gives your hand a tight squeeze.

And then the Pink Cobra walks in.

***

This will end badly, you think. It’s about the only thing that you can think, preoccupied as you are with -

It might be easier not to -

Fuck.

The thing is - and you really do try not to move, not to groan, not to scream - the thing is, you thought that when Loki said he had a plan, that said plan wouldn’t involve you being collateral damage for a LARP-er who’d most likely broken out of an asylum. I wish that we could be back in that shitty one-bed hotel room, you think to yourself, and - alright, not the best timing, but it rips a laugh out of you, spiraling and unhinged, before you feel the Pink Cobra, resplendent in coral cloak and villainous swagger, slug you one in the jaw. It hurts worse than you’d thought it would - you’ve never really gotten injured on missions, you’re usually good at talking yourself out of things, which is why the Avengers keep you around. You can speak any language, as long as you’ve heard it once, and your customary daily awkwardness can shift into persuasion like flicking a light-switch on.

Usually, though, you had an opportunity to speak, and weren’t rendered speechless by -

Loki, if you’re being honest. How much you want to kiss him. How much of an asshole he is. Trust me, he’d asked you. Can you do that for me? The Pink Cobra’s grip is sharp and bruising on your side; he’s slipped his fingers up your shirt and is pressing the point on your side that threatens to make your knees buckle, making bile rise up in your throat, driving you wild with the aching need to flee. He has one hand clasped over your mouth, now that you’ve quieted, and you can feel something - pain, and a pill - pressed snugly into his palm. He will force it down you, you know, if Loki so much as sighs wrong.

You’ll never trust him again.

You wish that you knew what the time was. If you end up dying at 4:20, you’re going to throw fists with somebody in hell.

You wish, also, for aspirin. Avengers training has left you woefully unprepared for the reality of getting punched in the face. You can already feel your jaw starting to swell, taste an egregious amount of blood. You’re pretty sure that the force of the blow knocked a tooth out.

What strikes fear into you, though - a fear somehow deeper than the absolutely bone-chilling, blood-curdling knowledge of what the Pink Cobra might do to you - is the look you’d seen on Loki’s face in the seconds after he’d grabbed you, before it fell into practiced, amused apathy. He’d gone white, and his eyes had blown wide. His fingers had spasmed with anger.

He’d looked as scared as you feel.

And you have no idea why.

It isn’t like you’re anyone special. Not any more than the rest of the team. Less so than most of them. You aren’t a god, like Loki and Thor are. You don’t have stealth-assassin training, like Bucky, or super-strength like Steve. You can’t seamlessly pilot mechanical suits over the New York skyline like Tony, or use a crossbow like Clint, or beat thirty people in single-hand combat like Nat, or change into a nitro-fueled rage machine like Bruce.

You can’t do anything, much.

Except, apparently, die.

You squeeze your eyes shut, not letting yourself look at him. You won’t let Loki’s disinterested face be the last thing that you see. It makes the Pink Cobra’s words all the worse, when he speaks. His voice is dark and sick and timbered, and you feel maggots crawling over your skin as he slots you closer to his body, tightening his already painful grip on you so that you can’t move even an inch away from his tensed, coiled muscles.

“So,” He says, “You are superheroes? How long did it take me, to apprehend you? Ah - three and a half hours? Tell your boss-man, do better next time.”

“I’ll pass it along,” Loki says. His voice sounds different. You can’t place why. Still won’t look.

“You won’t,” The Pink Cobra says. You can feel his shoulders rise, then fall. Feel him smirk. You love Loki’s smirk - secretly delight in drawing it from him, sometimes - but the Pink Cobra’s only fills you with yet more terror. You’ve pursed your lips tightly shut against the intrusion of his hand, but when Loki speaks he forces your bruised, bleeding jaw open and shoves the pill into your mouth. The pain of your injury tears through you like white lightning and you thrash, trying to escape. A keening sound claws its way out of you, fevered and anguished, and you feel your hands, still bound up in ropes, trying in vain to push off and away. The man behind you sighs, and then aims a swift kick at the back of your knees, which sends you down before you can so much as yelp. Your knees hit the floor, and he’s holding you by your hair now, twisting it so hard that you’re almost sure he’ll scalp you. He’s pulled something - too big to be be a knife, some kind of shortsword?! - Out from beneath his cloak, and is pressing it up against the column of your throat. You feel the weight of the capsule between your teeth heavily now, and realize what it means in the split-second before the Pink Cobra bends and whispers, Your choice; stale and rancid into the shell of your ear.

Next, he addresses Loki.

“You’ll be wanting to know what our plan is,” He says. Our, you think. We were right. “Hmm? I know how you people are. Always wanting to know. Tell me this, Mischief Man. What will I get, if I tell you? What price are you willing to pay?”

You know what this is. You know it like the ache in your heart when Loki brushes you off. Like the safety you feel in his arms. You open your eyes. Take in Loki’s face - he’s trying to hide, but you know, you know how he feels. You know what he’s going to choose.

And you know that you can’t let him choose it.

“You’ll let her go,” Loki asks, “If we let you leave here?”

“The thing could be managed.”

No, you think. No, Loki, don’t! Whatever the Pink Cobra’s going to do, whatever the IPP’s planning, knowing’s worth more than your life.

“One thing I want to know,” Loki says. He’s twirling a knife of his own, a slim silver number he keeps on him at all times, and you feel the blade on your own throat start to dig in - not enough to draw blood, but enough for you to feel it. The threat of it. The promise of it, and the coldness of the gleaming metal. “You and the IPP? How does it fit?”

“You want information from me?” The Pink Cobra asks. Lets his blade bite you, just barely, and the strength it takes for you not to scream is more strength then you’d known you possess.

“Yes,” Says Loki. “It’s not like I’m asking for much.”

He meets your gaze. You meet his. You hope that he cannot read it. His eyes are so worried, so desperate, you nearly break down.

“I suppose,” The Pink Cobra says, “That you’ve earned it. Getting here - getting this far - it must have been no easy task. Fine. There is no Imminently Predictable Psyops organization. They were a - what do you call it? Red herring? A scent of blood for the shark.”

“You fabricated them,” Loki says. “Why would you fabricate them?”

He is losing his composure, you can tell. You will never be ready for this. He will never be ready for this. You hope that he will forgive you, and you know that he never will, and you swallow the pill in your mouth.

“Because it was fun,” The Pink Cobra says.

And then your body knows pain.

***

“He didn’t think I would do it,” You say. Your mouth feels thick, clotted with blood and shock, and your body is one raw, gaping wound, but the giddy feeling of victory has begun to course through your veins. Pure, unfiltered adrenaline. You had waited for the moment of death to come, and it hadn’t. The pill is fake, your mind had screamed. But there’d been one thing left, that might work. You had breathed as slowly as you possibly could, forced every muscle of your scared, writhing body into single-minded limpness, rolled your eyes backwards into your head, drew one last breath in, and fallen. Twitched, for a few seconds, like a rag-doll. Then made yourself still.

Loki had slit the Pink Cobra ear to ear, beaten him within an inch of his life as he bled out, screaming like a man deranged. He’d left him a wet, bloody mess on the floor, and the blood had run down the not-quite-steady plane of it, pooling around you and mixing with the blood from your jaw, from the evening’s earlier glass cuts, from the deep, burning stab wound the Cobra had got on your arm.

You breathe, and your body knows pain.

You look at Loki, and your body knows pain.

He is shaking. Visibly shaking. His hands are clenched into fists at his side, and he looks as pale as bleached bones. His eyes are shot red - he had sobbed, when you fell, and a howl had torn through his body. You don’t know what to do, what it means, what the hell even to say to him. His cheeks are tear-stained, his breaths ragged.

You blink, and your body feels pain.

“We won,” You croak out. “Loki, we won.” It hurts worse than anything you’ve ever felt in your life. “I think he broke one of my ribs.”

You don’t mean to say that last part, but you do, and you are the one crying now, because it feels like he probably has, and you can barely even stay awake through this pain. It feels like the Hulk is pulling you limb from limb. Like all of those nightmares you’ve had where Loki decided to leave you - to go back to Asgard, and never speak to you again.

Stupid, you think. He won’t, again. Not after this.

Loki still hasn’t spoken. He’s looking at you, and his eyes are wild. Desperately, jaggedly roaming your body. His fists twitch with every new part of your body they land on.

“That bad, huh - Oh, fuck.”

And just like that, the tension leaves Loki’s body. The dam that had held him firmly in place is broken, and he’s running towards you with none of his usual grace. Dropping down by your side. He hoists you, and you hiss, and the tears won’t stop coming, so you bury your face in his shirt, nose pressed at the crisply ironed collar. Don’t care that it’s bleeding, because Loki’s here now. Holding you. Keeping you real. He’s got one hand stroking your hair and his touch feels right, nothing like the Pink Cobra’s, and he’s whispering: You brave, precious, idiot, how dare you, how dare you throw your life away like that?!

“It worked,” You exhale - it’s the most you can manage. You would laugh, if it wouldn’t shred you to pieces. Loki cradles you fiercely, hands grasping at the sweat-and-blood soaked fabric of your shirt, running over you as if he doesn’t believe you’re alive. “It - hurts,” You get out. Barely. “Loki, it - I can’t -“

“Don’t,” He tells you. His voice has gone brittle, choked with thorns. “Don’t talk. Don’t - Don’t ever do that again. Do you hear me? You will never do that again.”

If I need to, I will, you think. And you wonder if that’s why you’re here. Wonder if that’s why you’re strong. You wonder, and hurt, and believe. Feel the strength of him, clutching you like you’re the only thing in the world, taking in greedy lungfuls of your weeping, your need for his touch.

You can’t talk, anymore. It hurts too badly. But you surge, upwards, up into where he’s holding the back of your head, pressing your forehead into the dark, warm space under his jaw that smells like smoke and peppermint. Loki is taller than you are - you fit right into the curve of his neck, and his long curls curtain you in a bubble of warmth and content.

“Promise,” You say, but it comes out unintelligible, and Loki’s hands are running, so gently, over your skin.

“What was your plan?” You ask him, forcing it out of your body.

“Hush,” Loki says, “Later.”

There might not be any later, you think. Not like this.

***

In the hotel room, an ocean of scattered pages and ceiling mold and blessed privacy, you balance, cross-legged, on the bed. The wind blows wet and cold from an earlier rain through the busted out window. You have managed this out of sheer stubborn-ness, because it is the most that Loki allowed you to do. You’d passed out, twice, on the journey back - he had magicked you there, though it had taken a considerable amount of effort that you weren’t sure you really deserved - and had immediately propped you up on the pillows and stooped to ruffle through his suitcase, emerging not long after with binding tape, cat-gut thread, and a needle so sharp you could feel it slicing your flesh. You had opened your mouth to protest, but Loki had silenced you with a glare that could fell Director Fury. So you had gone quiet, and caved, letting him kneel over you on the distinctly lumpy mattress and begin inspecting your wounds. It had taken a few tries and a Please to convince him to let you sit on your own, and it hurt much more than the manner in which he’d arranged you. You were starting to, slightly, regret it.

“You don’t have to do this,” You say, pulling it from bleeding lips. He shushes you with a harsh, stern tut. “You’re not my mother,” You tell him.

“You could have died,” Loki says. There’s a snarling undercurrent to it that you can’t even start dissecting. “What were you thinking?” He asks. It is easier, though still painful, for you to answer him - he had used nearly half of his Thor-limited magic reserve to perform a basic stasis spell on your injuries, but the spell wouldn’t last forever. You’ll need stitches, he’d said, choking it out like he was the hurt one when he’d seen the number the Cobra’s blade had done to your arm.

“I’ve had worse,” You say, grinning weakly.

“Are you lying to me?” He asks you, with the tone of someone who’s distinctly not in the mood for joking.

“I thought,” You say. Steel yourself. “I thought you weren’t going to do what needed to be done. So I - Did it myself.”

“What needed to be done.” Loki says, enunciating every word.

“We couldn’t let him walk away,” You say, meeting his eyes. Emerald, clouded with fury. You don’t let yourself flinch from that anger. You don’t let yourself run from your choice. “You know what he would have done.”

“I don’t,” Loki says. “I know nothing. I know - I know that you think that your life means so little I wouldn’t care if you were gone. That I could - Live, without you.”

That’s… different.

“And I know,” Loki continues, “That I told you to trust me, and I meant it.”

“I do,” You say. There is no hesitation. “I trust you - Loki. Of course I trust you. It’s not - it wasn’t -“

“Stop talking,” He snaps. Gentles, when you jerk your head away, blink back a fresh wave of tears. “You need rest,” He says. “And - This is. This is going to hurt.”

You nod.

“Best get it over with, then.”

“You should keep your eyes closed,” He says.

“No! I want - I need to look.” You bring your eyes up to your arm, which he’s settled onto bed’s chewed, scratchy quilt without you realizing, but Loki tilts your head up with a barely-there graze of his fingers, achingly gentle to avoid aggravating your swollen jaw. He holds your gaze for a long time. Doesn’t look mad, anymore.

“Are you sure?” He asks you. Like all of this could be over with, if you wanted.

“How bad it could it be?” You ask back.

The injury is horrendous. You’d thought - honest-to-God, you’d thought the pain was terrible, but you weren’t ready for what your arm has become. The line of the wound runs in a craggy jigsaw from just under your shoulder to the tip of your elbow. Small wonder you can’t move it, can barely think through it at all.

“Y/N?” Loki asks, “Are you -“

“Fine,” You say. Blink, and your body knows pain. Try not to let how scared you are show, when you look back up at Loki. The Pink Cobra’s dead. You shouldn’t be scared, anymore. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?”

Loki sighs. Long and low and sad.

“Will I have to - “

“Bite,” Loki says, and shoves something - the sleeve of his shirt, crusted in blood which you realize, sickeningly, is yours - into your mouth. “It’ll help.”

It doesn’t, but he holds your hand through it, hushing you through the pain with furrowed eyebrows, thread and needle flying deftly through skin, air, skin again. His fingers move precisely, deliberate, quick, and when, on one stitch, you audibly whimper, he pauses to lean down and press a soft, utterly unexpected kiss to your hairline. You are unable to fully express how much it means to you, so you do the next best thing and kiss him yourself, pressing him back once he’s finished the last of his stitches and breathing all the the words you can’t say into him. You press every fear and gratitude and lingering nerve into the warmth of his lips, wending your fingers through his dark hair despite the pangs of agony still thrumming through every inch of your body. Your face hurts, but the kiss is all you’ve ever needed and more, and Loki is so, so gentle with you, pulling away with creased eyebrows and a look of genuine concern.

“I wanted to,” You tell him, mustering all of your strength. “It didn’t hurt.”

“Stop,” He tells you, voice cracking, “Stop lying.”

“I’m not,” You say. “I wanted to, Loki, I did.”

“And you wanted to -“

“No.” You are vehement about it, for a broken-ribbed, broken-jawed, freshly-stitched person coming off the high of his teeth and his tongue. “Not that, I swear, never that.”

“Why did you do it, then?” Loki asks. He has steepled his fingers under his chin, and his narrowed eyes pierce through you to the soul. You couldn’t lie to this man, you think, if your life depended on it.

You know that you have to tell him, this time. Really tell him. You don’t.

“”Why didn’t you use your magic?”

“You know why,” He says, and you do. You’d remembered it as the white pill turned to white powder in your gums, as the Pink Cobra’s knife had carved its way into your flesh. Thor had put a set limit on it, as condition of Loki’s release - Proof, he had said, We can trust you. Loki had thought to save it for later, that you wouldn’t need him right then. He had thought you’d talk them out, to safety.

You’d failed him.

“You didn’t,” He tells you, voice raw. He goes to grip your chin, to force you to listen to him, but with a glance and ill-concealed wince at your purpled jaw he thinks better of it. “You think that you failed me? You let yourself be - be beaten and stabbed - just so people you’ve never met in your life wouldn’t die, and you call that a failure?” He runs a hand through his hair. Bites back a snarl. Drops your arm. “I need you to listen to me,” Loki says, “Very, very carefully. You’re going to tell me why now, love. And then we’re going to fix it.”

You raise an eyebrow. Worse than he does, you’re aware.

“Sleep,” He amends, with a pointed look at the bed underneath you, “And then we’re going to fix it.”

“There’s only one bed,” You tell him, “And I feel like I just got run over by a truck.”

Loki huffs, a puff of warm air that you feel, from how close he still is. A grin twitches at the edge of his lips. It sets off sparks inside you.

“I thought -“ You say. Shake your head, and restart. “You would have let the Pink Cobra attack. You would have let him just walk away, and I couldn’t just - let that happen.”

“Enlightening.”

“No,” You tell him, “I mean it. I couldn’t - I’m not - I’m not worth more than anyone else. We’re the Avengers. It’s our job to save people, Loki.”

He’s regarding you carefully, eyes still narrowed, all vestiges of softness gone from his face. When he opens his mouth, it’s to close it. Form thoughts. Discard them. Exhale.

“My mother once told me,” He finally says, “That I would never know what it meant to be human until I found the person who made me want to bleed the world dry. Take all of its’ suffering, all of its’ cruelty, and leech it out of the very fabric of time, just to keep that person from anguish, from harm.”

“I don’t -“

He holds a hand up. You still.

“She never said they would infuriate me,” Loki says. “She never said they would make me laugh, or smile, or question my sanity on a regular basis. She never said that they’d try and get themselves killed, and that I’d have to watch, and that I would feel like my heart was being ripped from my body and torn to a bloody pulp; that I would make the sky rain blood and fire at the sight of it alone. But she was right about one thing - Many things, but also this. She told me that it wouldn’t matter. That I would - love you - anyway.”

“You don’t,” You say, not daring to hope. It’s an automatic retort.

“Foolish girl,” Loki chides, and you blink back fresh, stinging tears. How long have you wanted to hear Loki say that to you? How many sneaky looks have you stolen in the heat of your missions, just to see his smart mind and tricky magic at work? How many nights have you sat up together, sequestered from your insomnia in a bubble of hard-earned banter and peppermint tea, fighting the tight, coiling urge to push aside your steaming mugs and pull him into your needing?

He could not - he can’t - feel the same.

“Loki,” You say, stumbling over the words, “You can’t - This is - This is me we’re talking about.”

“Is there anyone else here,” Loki asks you, “That I could be talking about?” He seems nonchalant, now, as if this - this cruel fucking joke, when you already feel you’re on fire - is merely a fact of his life. “We’re going to leave this excuse of a town, and get you - proper care. Fix it. Because I will not, on my honor, watch you suffer in pain. But first, you’re going to sleep.”

“There’s only one bed,” You tell him, and feel your resolve as it shatters. You cling to the statement like it’s the last remnant of the girl you were and the woman that you’ll never be, “And the shower doesn’t work. And I’m covered in blood.”

But when you look at Loki, his eyes twinkle, mischievous.

“Will you stay with me?,” You ask him, biting your lip.

“You astound me,” He tells you, and rolls his eyes, and it feels - it feels normal. Good. A tender heat unfurls in your heart like orchid petals in the sun, numbing the persistent ache in your ribcage. “To even think that I would do anything else.”

Later, you will ask him why. Why do you love me?, you will ask, and Loki will hum, low in his throat, curled around you just like this first night; your back pressed into his chest, your legs tangled up hopelessly, his fingers tracing nonsense patterns onto your spine in the dawn-light’s syrupy gold. Because, he will tell you, trailing a line of soft kisses up the scar on your arm - an ugly thing, but it functions, mostly, and only ever seems to hurt on the days when he isn’t there - I was given no choice.

But if you’d had one?”, You will ask, and spin around, propping yourself on your elbow.

You tempt me, He’ll tell you, baring his sharp teeth. Shouldn’t you know better than that?

You will lie there, next to each other, not needing a single word. Because you will know. Because he will have told you, a thousand times, a thousand ways, exactly how he feels about you.

Tonight, though, isn’t that night. It takes a moment to get settled in his hold, and the rain spits and drums against what glass remains in your window, slicking the carpet with dark, greasy splotches. It figures, you think, that even the rain in this city has the smell and the texture of oil. You feel like a bag of bones, stretched too thin. But safe, in his arms, in a way that you’ve never felt, before now. Loki is with you, you realize. Wrapped around you like a traveler’s cloak, the comforting weight of a slim, balanced blade at your side in a fight. He is cool, around your afraid. Warm, where his clever fingers whine and needle their way through your skin to your heart.

“I hate you,” You tell him, “You know that?”

Loki laughs, a deep, rumbling purr.

“Go to sleep.”

#picture1000wordswc #pic 4 #loki/reader #female reader #crack #so much crack #just a lot of references to bad memes and cringe movies that turns into all the angst #because for some reason i’m like this #guess which character from another popular franchise i based my crack villain off #soundtrack to this was 800 percent mouth moods #in all seriousness though huge congrats to @startrekkingaroundasgard #you deserve all the love #unfortunately i showed my love by writing insane crack fic but HEY #loki is in it so hopefully that makes up for the c r i n g e

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kurtanaroyalty · 3 years

Note

ok your Halloween party episode tags has got me hyped up what do you think everyone’s costumes would be !!

Oooooh this is such a fun question!! But yes, it was a missed opportunity to not have a true Halloween episode..like in Blame It on the Alcohol, we deserved a big dumb New Directions Halloween party at Rachel’s! Now I’ll be honest, these answers are a mix of what I could see the glee kids actually wearing but some are definitely just wishful thinking on my part..(also some of these don’t fit time wise as in they didn’t exist when glee was airing but let’s ignore that!!)

-Quinn: I could see her being a big Game of Thrones fan and she would totally rock a Daenerys costume & look so gorgeous! Another option I’m feeling is Spinelli from the tv show Recess, especially skank Quinn (I’m gonna headcanon this as being a show she enjoyed watching as a child!)

-Brittana: I would love to see them dressed up as Catradora from She-Ra and the Princesses of Power!! Brittany would be Adora/She-Ra & Santana would be Catra. Their personalities & height difference fit so well for that! Another couples costume is Brittany as Harley Quinn & Santana as Poison Ivy😍

-Mercedes: I have no actual reasoning for this (other than I think she would look ridiculously hot) but I wanna see her dressed up as Maleficent! The other option I can think of for her is a very glamorous + classy angel. The only true criteria I have for Mercedes is that whatever costume she wears would be classified as stunning!✨

-Rachel: She would 100% be dressed as Fanny from Funny Girl.. and take it way too seriously and go full method.. until everyone else tells her to stop being a buzzkill and convince her that the only way that will happen is if she changes into a different costume. Some of the other girls go through her closet and are able to put together a look that resembles Minnie Mouse in a very impressive yet scary manner!

-Tike: I can see Tina & Mike wanting to go for pretty theatrical + creative costumes (something Tina could design!). I picture them going for characters from media they enjoy watching together so examples being something like Jack & Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas or Morticia & Gomez from The Addams Family! They would go the full nine yards with the costumes, makeup, & some role playing but clearly not take things too far like Rachel did (aka they are basically the most fun people there)!

-Klaine: Obviously canon gave us them as Snooki & The Situation from Jersey Shore! So if we wanna stay within that type of lane, I can totally picture them being ridiculous and going for Tiger King costumes or even Paris & Nicole from The Simple Life! I can also see something happening like Kurt losing a bet which allows Blaine to pick their costume theme. Blaine would choose something like superheroes and would go for a hero like Batman whereas Kurt being forced to choose would probably be drawn to someone like Loki (mainly for the drama he brings & cool costume - which being the Kurtcedes lover that I am would love to see them both rock costumes with horns👌)!

-Artie: Many months before Halloween..Artie, Sam, Puck & Finn were hanging out and watching Ghostbusters which got them to agree to a plan of wearing group costumes. Artie went full out and even made his own very elaborate proton pack. Of course when he shows up to the party, he is the only one out of the four to be wearing the agreed upon group costume.

-Sam: Obviously he forgot about the Ghostbusters costume.. so naturally he shows up to the party in super realistic blue face & full body paint resembling that of a creature from Avatar. Unfortunately, he didn’t set the paint properly (or make the smarter decision of wearing a blue bodysuit instead of paint) so anywhere he sits or leans against he ends up getting blue paint all over the surface.. by the end of the night most of the paint is no longer on his body...

-Puck: Days before the party, Puck & Finn decide to buy a two person horse costume because they find it absolutely hilarious (& again, they both forgot about the Ghostbusters group costume).

-Finn: Not only did Finn forget about the group Ghostbusters costume but he was also able to somehow misplace his half of the horse costume so he had to scramble to come up with something to wear. He shows up in a white fitted sheet that has jagged cut outs for his eyes, nose, mouth, & arms. It is BY FAR the worst costume of anyone there & that’s saying a lot since Puck is stuck just being half of a horse (the back end at that)!

~Even though Artie was a bit let down that no one else remembered the group costume, being able to pretend to capture Finn while everyone else roasts Finn about how awful his ghost costume is really makes up for his three friends being complete idiots!<33

#thanks for asking me this! this was super fun to come up with!!💕🥰#glee headcanons #new directions #text #ask #newrachels

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ancientwastedlores · 3 years

Text

Undone by “Darling”

REQUEST (from @november-solarstorms): Celebrating another year of this earth being braced by Tom Hiddleston's presence! Lol. Might I make a prompt request? I feel as though it would be interesting to read from Loki's POV to explore the dynamics between him and a human female who is just as intelligent as he. She has a sharp wit and even sharper tongue. Her sarcastic and clever nature enable her to out-banter Tony Stark, the king of snark himself (may he rest in peace). But she is also just as flirtatious and salacious. She never blushes, never falters, and is incredibly clever. You can decide the nature of their encounter. Really im just in it for a good game of cat and mouse.

A/N: Okay, I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!! And yeah, this will run a bit longer than my usual fics lol. Also, there IS a Loki POV, just keep reading thaaanks <3

WARNINGS: none.

WORD COUNT: 1,932

____________________________________________________________________

Undone by “Darling”

17 hours and 6 white chocolate mochas later, it was finally ready - an upgraded version of Corvus Glaive’s glaive, this one spec-ed out to your fancies and requirements. It was a beast, and definitely not something Nick Fury would ever let you play around with, even if you made it.

Satisfied with your work, you remove your safety goggles and grin at Stark, who is working on his own weapon he scavenged from the Black Order.

‘I’m done!’ you say triumphantly, causing him to look up and groan. ‘How did you finish before me!?’ he lowers his glasses and looks at your weapon. ‘I’m smarter’ you say. ‘I went to MIT’ ‘And I didn’t, yet here we are, both in the same lab’.

He shakes his head, not unlike a petulant child, causing you to laugh.

‘How far along are you?’ you ask. ‘Still running diagnostics’. ‘Still!?’ ‘Have you seen the size of his hammer?’ he gestures to Cull Obsidian’s chain hammer on his work table, but the innuendo doesn’t escape you and you grin at him. He facepalms. ‘Y/n, for god’s sake...’ ‘You’re just tired, or you’d appreciate the joke too’.

You stretch your weary body and let out a deep breath. You’d test the weapon out tomorrow, but for now, you need a nap.

‘Take a load off, Stark. Hammer’ll be there tomorrow’. ‘Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you...’ he puts his goggles back on and get to work.

Loki’s POV:

Humans are surprising, but I always knew that. I never thought them boring, even if my brother says I do. Humans are of so little power but such incredible resilience that it’s frankly astonishing. I am inclined to believe that sometimes resilience is just stupidity... in most cases, I am right. But that’s not to say I haven’t come across some truly brave people.

Take the Avengers Tower, for example.

Just in here, you have Y/n, a brave soldier with the mind of an intergalactic scavenger, and I do mean that as a compliment. She’s awfully clever, she can build better than Stark, and has a track record of finishing every mission to perfection and before time. And then you have the Super Soldier Steve Rogers, a big muscled, big hearted idiot who often mistakes challenging our enemies for bravery and morality.

The two couldn’t be more different, but they get along like siblings. Not siblings like Thor and I... better adjusted, perhaps.

They sit in front of me, talking about some mission while they play Chess. Her moves are quick but calculated, his take more time because he’s more interested in telling his story than playing the game.

‘...so there I am, no weapons, no shield, bang in the middle of the Serpent Citadel...’

He’s a good storyteller, I’ll give him that. But not as good as Y/n. She paints quite a picture, full of delicious gory details and horribly dark jokes.

‘Steve, you have to pay attention, you’re losing’ she says. ‘Yeah, I don’t actually know how to play chess, I just wanted you to listen to my story’.

She looks up at him, almost offended. ‘STEVE...’ ‘Cool, I’m gonna go wrap Stark into a game of Battleships and tell him about my fight with Copperhead’.

She laughs as he leaves the room, and she puts the chess pieces away.

‘We could play?’ I ask her. ‘Is the God in a mood to lose?’ ‘Over confidence isn’t attractive in anybody’. ‘Oh darling, neither is telling someone what is and isn’t attractive’.

She’s never called me that before, and in the context it should seem cutting, but it isn’t. ‘Darling?’ ‘Problem?’ ‘It’s quite a term of endearment to set someone straight’.

She says nothing.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ I tease her. She only smiles and continues putting the pieces away neatly. Stark’s chess set is gold and black, all individually carved pieces. The pawns are all Iron Man suits, but that’s to be expected. She handles them with the care Stark would.

‘I mean...’ I continue, ‘honestly, if someone heard, they’d never let you live it down’.

And she carries on, unbothered.

‘Y/n!’ ‘Oh dear, look at you come completely undone with just one term of endearment’ she comments, shutting the chess set. ‘Whatever would happen if I held your hand?’

The very thought of it seemed to drain my brain of blood. I unwillingly glanced at her hands, working the lock mechanism of the box, her blue veins prominent.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ she asked.

I stood up, the human emotion of embarrassment becoming too familiar for me. ‘I’ll have to see you at lunch’. ‘Sure, darling’.

Oh, I hate how she’s enjoying this.

----------

The next day, Y/n booked a training room to test out the Glaive, and Stark had a rusty but working chain hammer. Steve insists on trying it out anyway, and now our breakfast is being spent on discouraging him from doing that.

‘Guys... if nothing else, I’ll still have my shield. Let me test it out!’ ‘Y/n’s glaive cuts through Vibranium, you know that, right?’ Stark says. ‘Y/n wouldn’t do that’. ‘Oh yes she would’ Y/n says nonchalantly as she sinks her teeth into a bacon and egg sandwich.

As she does, the yolk runs down her fingers. She makes a sound at the inconvenience and sets the sandwich down, then grabs a napkin. I’m hardly ever crude, but the energy it took not to take her hand and lick off the yolk myself could burn every star in the galaxy.

Captain America scrunches his nose at her remark, severely offended.

‘In any case, that shield barely covers your giant body. It will force Stark to make you a new one’. ‘What do you care about his giant body’ Stark says. ‘It’s America’s ass, Tony’ she takes a sip of her iced coffee. Steve blushes, and Tony rolls his eyes.

----------

The training facility is magic, of course, somewhere between a mirror dimension and Wanda’s reality powers creating a safe cocoon inside the building so no one can be harmed. Y/n hardly trusted anybody to fight with her except Thor, but given the nature of Corvus’ Glaive, she knew magic would be required.

And so she called me.

After getting into my battle armour, I stepped into the facility, equipped with my sceptre and the teachings of the witches of Asgard.

She whistles as I walk in. ‘Trying to distract me from killing you?’ ‘Are you?’ I ask. She’s dressed in a black bodysuit, details of purple in her belt and weapon harnesses. ‘Why yes, I am. Glad you noticed’.

The glaive is on the floor, and she stomps her foot on one part of it so it swivels up and neatly places itself in her hand. She smiles.

‘Try to keep up. I’m not just looking for eye candy in a training partner, darling’ she says, getting into battle stance.

With nothing left to say for the second time this week, I aim the sceptre at her and the stone at the end glows.

She charges and I shoot at her, but she spins the glaive and creates a shield which absorbs the energy.

She continues to charge at me. I shoot again, and again the glaive takes the hit. Not a scratch on her.

Once she comes closer, she simply places the flat end of the weapon against my chest, sending me hurtling back into a wall.

She spins the glaive and laughs.

‘Compliments of Wakanda. It absorbs any hits and charges up with kinetic energy’.

I get up on my feet. This is far from over. I create multiple illusions to surround her, all of them brandishing knives, Chitauri tech, and sceptres.

‘Damn, suddenly my whole evening has opened up’ she says, looking around.

Even my clones look around at each other puzzled.

‘Come on then, who’s up?’ she spins the glaive around. ‘One at a time or all at once, baby’.

They charge at her, and I expected her to fight them off at once... instead she plants the staff on the ground and ducks, and a semi-circle shell grows from the top of the staff, down to the floor... like a mini fortress, completely impenetrable. It could, no doubt, continue to take hits and build up kinetic energy, so I call off the clones.

She gets up and retracts the shell. ‘Nanotech’ she grins at me. ‘The whole shell sits in a disk. It can withstand bombs and even a moon’. ‘Is there any tech you haven’t adopted?’ ‘I’m an intergalactic scavenger, aren’t I?’

I stare at her, horrified. Can she read minds?

‘Maybe I can. Or maybe I heard you tell Stark when he was complaining about me finishing my weapon first’.

Silence.

‘Also, darling, you’re awfully predictable in your fighting’.

She picks up every trick and tech she sees, so beating her is less about weapons and more about cunning.

No problem. Cunning is my specialty.

‘Ready now?’ she asks. ‘Mhm’.

She takes a deep breath to ready herself, her eyes shutting slightly. Once they open back up, she stares in shock.

In my Jotun form, I give her my most menacing smile.

She cocks her head to the side, studying my icy blue skin.

The illusion I cast of myself approaches behind her, dagger in hand. Once it’s close enough and I can almost taste my victory, she raises the glaive and in one swift motion, sticks it into its abdomen.

The illusion disappears into green light.

‘Cute’ she remarks. She points the glaive at me. ‘What else you got for me?’ I shift back to my Asgardian form and sigh. ‘You win’.

Y/n laughs and lowers her weapon. ‘Oh darling, I won the second you walked in wearing all that leather’. She winks at me, then walks out of the facility. I feel a blush creep to my face, much against my will.

-------------

‘Maybe you should stick to your guns, Tony’ Y/n says, ‘Fancy suits is it for you, chain hammers may be overshooting it’. ‘Is that what they taught you in the back alley you learnt ironmongery from?’ ‘Yes! Do you want their number, I’m sure they’ll have a spot on the waiting list for you’.

Ah. Y/n’s relationship with Stark seemed more like mine with Thor. While they banter, Steve and Natasha tear up from laughing. I wouldn’t go so far as to call this domestic, but it certainly is comfortable.

‘Come on, the glaive can’t be that good, right Loki?’ Stark asks.

The company looks at me expectantly. ‘To say her weapon isn’t good enough means to insult your own tech, Stark. Everything about it is founded on your theories’.

‘So technically, it’s my brain that made the glaive so cool’ he tells Y/n. ‘Yeah, you could say that. The glaive comes from the same mind that manufactured Captain America’s dinner plate’.

Steve doesn’t find that one funny, but Natasha does, sending her into peals of laughter.

‘Oh whatever’ Tony huffs. ‘I’m going back to the lab’.

He stands up and Y/n grabs his arm. ‘Aww Tony, I’m just kidding!’ she pats his hand, ‘Look, you’re a brilliant inventor, we all have our slow days’.

He sighs and nods, and holds her hand. ‘Thanks... I guess I’m just not in my element, you know?’ ‘Yeah...’ she keeps patting his hand.

And the feeling of domesticity creeps in. We really are all a family. Y/n smiles encouragingly at Tony, and Tony seems more relaxed.

‘So, you want me to get you the number of that ironmongery, or...?’ ‘OH FOR...’ he snatches his arm away and storms out of the room, with Steve and Nat losing it all over again.

___________________________________________________________

Ah this was so fun!!!!!!!! I hope you guys liked it <3

MASTERLIST HERE

ASK BOX OPEN FOR FIC REQUESTS. Find GUIDELINES HERE.

#loki x you #loki pov #loki x reader #loki marvel #Marvel Avengers #avengers tower #avengers fluff #tony stark #loki fanfic #loki fluff #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston birthday #fic prompts

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blankdblank · 3 years

Text

Brother Dearest Pt 76

“There is nothing I support more than mothers caring for their children. Our Democracy is built on the combined efforts of our mothers. Baroness Bunny Pear Howlett swore before God and the world to joyously welcome every life she will be given the gift of bringing into this world and raise them in a God fearing home. I will never oppose her honoring that vow and raising more citizens of this fine country and our neighbor to the North, Canada. We have no right to lay our opinion higher in respect than that vow and her responsibility to love and cherish the precious gift those children are. That is all I have to say on the matter.” The words were a bullet to the head of any try to shoot down a try to erase your achievements for the simple stolen glimpse of your cleavage exposed to the world.

On the cusp of speechless Truman had called you and had wanted to see where you stood on the issue. All you had tried to do to mend the issue led to his argument in support of said efforts no matter what his personal thoughts of showing nursing mothers on the front page. In truth you were clearly as blown over by the story and after calls from the Brocks and even Father Thomas, who offered words of support agreeing that it was a beautiful intruded upon moment and any effort you could use to support any other struggling mothers should be acted upon.

It seemed that this would blow over and papers dug back to what they knew, it was a beautiful moment, because you didn’t have very many of those left and James was supportive to not blemish the legacy of his daughters’ mother for them to grow up aspiring to. Even Mr Yarbrough had to admit it was a bit amusing for how people had gone to such extremes in this matter and calmed after to at least a dull roar. And was all the more pleased as he sat grading your latest assignments while you sat for the exams in History, Geography and Religion to see that the issue had not thrown you off of your school work.

“Is that me?” Loki asked in his stroll into the sun lit room that had a few easels propped up and drying. From the easel you turned lowering your paint brush having painted a portrait of Loki lounged on one of your armchairs with a bouquet of fireworks hovering above his palm. “It is almost lifelike.”

“Took me a while to get the fingers right, I think I might have made Beau and Jeff’s arms go numb in letting me stare at their hands.”

Lowly he chuckled and stated, “It is masterfully done. I am flattered, thank you.” He stepped to the other easels noting the portrait of James and Victor both seated in armchairs in front of the fireplace with their children from their first marriages, Xander on the arm of his father’s chair and Victor’s children on his lap. A portrait now that they had their younger daughters would grant some proof of their elder siblings for them to grow up with that the men treasured and readied a nail in a special place to hang it when it was properly dried and framed. “This one is beautiful, more relatives?”

You caught his eye answering, “That is Xander, James’ son from his first marriage and Victor with his daughter and his son from his first marriage.” Loki’s eyes swept over your face taking in the hint of sadness in your expression. “They’re all buried in the family graveyard on these lands with their mothers. We talked about when Leanora was born having some sort of portrait for the girls to know what their older siblings looked like. The guys asked it just be the kids, didn’t want to have me and Jeanie having to peer up at our predecessors.”

“You have done them justice. Our grandfather does not have as skilled a portrait executed with such love in it.”

“They’re beautiful babies. Almost makes me wish there was easier access to cameras back then to have given them more to hold onto. Part of why they have taken trunks of pictures since we’ve met I bet. Deep down they’re making notes to hold onto for when they imagine they will have to bury me.” Loki chortled and you said, “They’re going to be so disappointed when we have to build a new house for the pictures we’ve accumulated by the time I hit a century and have still refused to die.”

“I doubt disappointment would cross their minds in reaching the first century mark on your second lifetime.” His eyes traveled to the third couple portrait that could be hung separately or together of a trio of people seated for tea, “And these?”

“Friends, Howard Stark and Ana and Edwin Jarvis. They chose some cribs for the girls for our Brooklyn home and I’m terrible at picking gifts for them. Howard is very rich and I believe Ana and Jarvis have all they could want already.”

“A gift of this caliber would be treasured.”

“What do you do for fun?” You asked making him grin at you as you finished a detail on the edges of his finely draped velvet cape down the front of the leg of his chair of a charming bit of speckled fur that he now dearly ached to have one just like it.

“I have taken up glass blowing recently. Quite agitating at first, however I am told that I am improving, perhaps a different view point of a Master Smith could see my efforts is helpful in such a discovery.”

“I could imagine burning myself rather frequently in that hobby.” You said making him chuckle again.

“The heat is rather a fickle aspect of the hobby. Remaining hydrated is key, a pitcher of water is always nearby in case of overheating.”

“Loki, welcome back,” James said carrying two of his girls with the third in a sling he fashioned across his chest. “I’ve found a way to grow another arm.” He said making the Prince chuckle again. “You are just in time for lunch, Sarah made some lemon squares, don’t know what’s in them but you look up for an adventure.”

“That I am.” He said smiling in the excited coo of the girls who saw him when he came closer. “Their curls are coming in nicely. A very good sign for healthy childhoods for my people full head of hair early on.”

“Yes, dad said I had a full head of curls by my first month too.” Drying the brush you rinsed off with a half damp and paint stained rag you left on the table to say, “Should be time to pump again, before they get fussy on you.”

“They would never,” James teased as you came closer kissing the trio on their heads and raised palms to lead the duo to the sitting room in your wing.

As the pump worked underneath your bra and t shirt against your bent legs you gave each of the girls some personal time while Victor lounged with his Petal reading her a story to Teddy and Loki’s artistic battle in making their own castles out of the hoard of colorful blocks while Marigold stretched for a nap across the Prince’s lap. The phone ringing turned your head and with a stretch of your fingers the phone floated closer so you could lift the receiver, “Hello, Howlett Pear, Creed residence.”

“Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth is calling for the Baroness,” an aid spoke through the line in a cool crisp tone.

“Oh, of course, I’ll hold for her Majesty.”

“Just a moment, Baroness.”

The line switched and her voice came through the line, “Bunny, how are you this morning? We have gotten a copy of Mother magazine it was quite a masterful spin on the hassle at hand.”

“Thank you, and we’re all doing well here.”

“And your classes are going well, the papers have all stated that your grades are pristine top marks.”

“Classes are going well, still tutors at home twice a week until next Tuesday when I start on campus.”

“We all certainly hope that you will be treated with ample respect.”

“I will be, everyone is very respectful up here. If I can how is Princess Elizabeth’s pregnancy going?”

“Swimmingly, the first trimester was rough but on her way to the third she is very strong. Thank you for asking. She has been very happy to hear that things are lightening up for you. Have your girls gained any more weight?”

Questions continued as more information was shared and eventually she had to hang up and see to other matters leaving you to return to focus on your family and keeping Teddy and Marigold from Lording over the Prince more than he could handle for as long as he could.

“We finished another bundle of the Spain trunk, did you want to give it a look?” Jeff asked and after a moment to register what he meant from the mindset of playing you gave him a nod.

“Sure, where would we have to go?”

Beau smiled saying, “The directory is in the sitting room by our room. Not far of a walk.”

Once on your feet with the whole group including the children, the elder three watched the brothers guide you to the sitting room with a bronze fountain shaped like a tree with layered branches topped with groupings of bronze leaves layered with crystal leaves settled inside of a bronze basin filled with pebbles shaped from crystals. “I’ve seen this before,”

Beau stated with a smile, “Not uncommon a reaction for the first return to using it.”

In your step closer Loki took notice of the familiar structure to the one back on the abandoned Beserker territory on Asgard that with a lift of your palm had the top of the fountain light up and release a fine mist that in the more it pooled out into the room and darkening as it did. Similar to your galaxy mist in silvery blue it chose a more silver and pink tinted hue with soft hints of cheerful chimes from the creatures who dwelled inside of it that let out in recognition of who was tapping into the hive minded database.

Jeff to the list of runes that hovered in front of your raised palm stated, “We should start here,” and showed you the meaning of the runes. “This shares the translations both in written word, spoken and in reenactments. And we can show by means of the map that will show exactly where it took place and when.”

Up to your lap when you took a seat for the replay of your history you took hold of one of your girls with James at your side treasuring the tales while holding his other two daughters while they napped. Perfectly content in knowledge of the path that helped to lead you three here to this coveted moment. Both of the brothers however took enjoyment in the end of the translated bits to hear what had been learned on their own travels before this lifetime. All of it a road map to now with details that even stunned Loki, including in his trips to Norway as a child that you had been there, a fact that stunned not just himself but his mother when he returned and as usual gave her an update on how things with your family were going.

That tv of yours however had Frigga on the visit before gather up a collection of books from their own schools for children to help advance your knowledge even more as she had grown to see how unfair it was to keep you from copies on such an ignorant planet compared to their own. Materials would be far from accessible to you but at least in time until your full power had awoken she might be taken as an ally in hastening the growth of your ever hungry intellect that scoured for more. Even she could sense that the gap in knowledge was hindering your return and when she approached Himdall his grin eased out along with his palms to accept the books bound together in a leather set of straps.

“Heimdall, kindly gift these to Mother.”

He bowed his head, “I shall, and she will be ever grateful for the gift.” She nodded and timidly turned to head back to the doorway she would transport herself back into the Palace. However she paused and looked back at him when he said, “Mother bears you no ill will, Queen Frigga. The decisions of Odin and his father long ago shall not bear down upon you or your sons and people. These books will help greatly to improve her capabilities to effect change upon Midgard as she always had. You have no reason to fear her growth in the coming years, in fact a friendship should very well grow if you would welcome it. For now, I shall deliver your gift.” There was no time for an answer as in a galaxy colored mist his body vanished to appear at the doorway of your library in a final touch up of readying the table for your tutoring the following day.

A gentle knock on the door had you look up to find Heimdall there who bowed his head and approached as you greeted him, “Heimdall, you can come in. Hope it’s nothing serious to bring you out here to our little planet.”

In a shake of his head he lifted the books on his palms stating, “Not at all, Queen Frigga sent me with these for you,”

When he came closer his eyes adoringly shifted over your girls, namely Nova in your arms who let out an excited squeal that had you and everyone around you chuckle, “Our girls have learned they can be very loud.”

“A joyful greeting, I am honored.” He said lowering the books onto the table that your fingertips smoothed across the leather bound cover of the top textbook larger than a phone book with runes you couldn’t read across the cover.

“Are these in your language from Asgard?” you asked and he nodded offering his hand to the girl who wiggled her fingers his way that wrapped around his fingers in a cross eyed awed stare.

“Yes, Ancient Asgardian.”

Elliot spoke next, “I have some ledgers that we can help teach you from when you are ready.”

And your father said next, “Those books can be quite dense at times, best to take it gradually and we will explain the lessons thoroughly as they tend to build upon the prior lessons as you work your way through in several of their subjects.”

When you looked to Heimdall you said, “I thought Asgard was afraid of me. Why would Queen Frigga give me these?”

“With aid of our Brothers in time you would have learned of these some day, Prince Loki has shared the difficulties of education here and its limits so far with Queen Frigga. Our lessons to what you are learning now would have you equal to a child’s lessons on Asgard. That is unfair, and in the coming years a great deal more to gift you would be helpful for what you might face.”

“I suppose it might help, every now and then there’s mention of the ship headed this way. Can’t help but think if they know so much more that I might be taken as an ignorant fool far below what they expected when they get here.”

Heimdall gave you a comforting grin, “This physical form of yours is merely a piece of a far more breathtaking whole. Mother is with us, always, and while you come to remember that path is all the more beautiful. Midgard is far beyond what we are accustomed, your travels and time here will gift them knowledge in their own ignorance. There is no need to fear, love is patience and trust, together we will learn and grow.”

“Thank you,” you said as Nova released his hand, “And please tell Queen Frigga thank you.”

“I am certain in time we will add a good deal more to your library and when our Brothers will arrive they will have possession of a supply of the records of our people for you to explore as well.”

He bid you and your family a farewell and Elliot called the journal he added to the books he moved to a nearby shelf to be looked over when you were ready so that the dinner your stomachs demanded could be finished and enjoyed.

Across the top of your bed James laid with view of his girls in their squirms calming down to the bedtime story he was reading to them to lull them off to sleep. They had no clue what he was saying but to every stolen kiss or nuzzle of his face against their little selves savoring their scents and tries to keep hold of his head and hands. He absolutely loved these moments and didn’t even look up when you snapped pictures of them as he loved to do when you stole your own time cuddling with the trio. The roll of film was filled and you sighed taking the camera to its usual spot on a table outside the dark room where Victor would see it and in the usual pattern develop the film to give to you later.

Along with his own pictures and those from Dawn and Eddie he savored his time in that dark room surrounded by loving moments with his ever growing family. Proud more and more on the echoes of giggles and racing tiny feet through the manor that had sat empty for so long. Stone and earth held memory and even this place in its neglect since that flood bore a depression much like their own and now seemed to glow all its own glee for the souls now claiming shelter inside its refurbished borders.

Film was bought by the barrel on top of your gifted supply it seemed and a welcome expense to have permanent copies of the gradual growth of every child and the woman he loved who had gifted him his own. Always a bit of doubt lingered he might not be the right choice as a husband but as a father he knew she treasured him for that and wouldn’t have picked another to share this with. Mixed within the pictures of the girls was one of yourself. Normally quite casual the moments James wanted to keep were tame, this one had you in just your underwear, perhaps in a try to lure a more adventurous night when he was in a late shower or changing.

Spread across the bed slumped back comfortably from an alluring pose on your side with curls sprawled about your face that widened his smile. It wasn’t just the moment he’d stumbled across to lure an intrusion but much like the photograph of James on your honeymoon the dance of flame and shadow across your skin had turned this stolen moment into art. Show of his adoration for you and a try to begin again what you formerly had to have him stumble into a far more intimate moment. He knew what his brother felt, pure love and awe at the strong force of a woman who put to test the meaning of labor to birth the girls who looked more like you by the day. A couple more weeks and far from that time in London when you walked out in the underwear gifted to you to see if it was correctly draped across your starved frame now he could see their efforts to coat you with leisurely weight to suit daily energy requirements and to signal you were well fed.

He left it to dry and carried on until he saw the image of the tiny hands tangled in James’ hair and arms holding his head down at his bend to their whim he could but wouldn’t break no matter how easily he could. Every image was left hung to dry to be handed over later and sorted to be added to the collection of others on his way to finish readying for the day trip ahead to go and visit Norma on set as you’d been promised a trip to do so and see how your project was coming about.

Economics, Government, Political science, Anthropology tests and an afternoon trip to town that ended with a rainy drive back home for an early night to cuddle in bed for the drive and flight in the morning. Norma still was on set but now that you had settled a suitable schedule for feedings the brothers zapped you all closer to the airport where Howard’s plane waited to fly you all out to the location that he was filming in today. To keep your girls safe they would remain at home and not even Leonora would be coming at Norma’s request knowing how much press was around to keep her safe from being plastered around the world more than she could manage.

Ample milk had been stored and your parents gladly took charge with Edie of the children while Elliot and the twins delved more into translations of those documents as they had daily to make use of the summer while they had it. Eddie stayed with you as you parked and the stroll over to the waiting plane while Dawn took Teddy and Marigold to her family’s home to get more work done on their paper.

“Bunny, glad to see you, today should be fun.” Howard said when he came close post stroll out of his plane from final checks.

“I’m sure it will be.” Victor said carrying the bag with the paintings in it turning Howard’s head to them.

James said, “Brought you something, Bunny made them.”

Howard said, “You didn’t have to make me anything, not even my birthday.”

“Well consider it payback for the cribs and filming my story.”

“Ooh, now I’m really curious.” He said with a smirk following you inside the plane he sealed the steps to get to his seat saying, “You can sit up front if you like, Bunny.”

Jarvis who was securing your bags gave you a nod and watched you timidly join Howard up at the cockpit to ease down onto the co-pilot seat in the Douglas DC-3 that had you tuck your legs up to sit on to be able to see over the nose of the plane. Howard chuckled saying, “I will be sure to pack a few phone books next time.”

“It’s alright, have to use them for our truck too. Nothing new, I live in the land of giants.” You said making him smirk.

He began to flip switches and start up the plane explaining what he was doing all through the roll to the runway and lift off until you were in the air. “Maybe one day I could give you some lessons. You know the time I flew Steve into enemy lines to rescue Bucky was on one of these. You been in a few in the service I bet.”

“Couple, only it’s a bit odd without the gunfire.”

After another glance your way he asked, “You still doing well? You look well fed a bit more than last time.”

“Still good, first time so far from the girls, but I suppose I have to get used to that for what class on campus start next week.”

“If I can say, we’re all proud of how you handled that press with your magazine spread. Masterful, downright masterful on the shift of it. Everyone on set agreed. You should have never had to face that but you handled it well. Hate that you have to, press can be vultures, but I imagined they had standards.”

“All spilled milk at this point.” After a moment you asked, “Would it be rude to ask if you have another Mrs Stark on the horizon to anger someone else’s dad?”

That had him chuckle again, “Not yet. Always up to help a woman out of a sticky situation if I can help it.”

While others were setting up things for the first scene and gathering the cast that gradually was getting ready your focus turned to Ana Jarvis who came into view with a wrapped bundle laid against her chest. The heartbeat inside had your smile widen and you asked, “Now where did you find this angel?” Widening her smile.

“This is our daughter, Celeste. Last year we found out we could not have children, but there was an orphanage back in New York who called us, a young mother could not provide for her child and put her up for adoption. She is beautiful and has orange hair and eyes like Edwin’s.” She said on the verge of tearing up for how fated the move turned out to be.

“Congratulations,” you said to the both of them and from the bag Victor handed you to bring out the portrait of the couple parting their lips. “If I would have known I’d have added her. A sort of thank you, for the cribs and being so kind.”

Ana said, “Oh thank you,” she said using her free arm to give you a hug that when she ended she turned to look at it again, “It is beautiful, did you paint it?”

“Yes, I have one for Howard too.”

“You have what for Howard?” He asked with a smirk on his path back on his way to check something else only to gape at the portrait and the one of him you offered him. “Bunny, I love it, thank you.”

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hang them together or separately, however you liked.”

Howard smiled and said in collecting the both of them, “I’m going to put these somewhere safe until we get the clear to head home later, be back in a few, get comfortable.”

Sure enough like a magnet in the silent nightclub of a set to the piano as the guys took in the artwork and other details soft notes filled the air. Just a few random notes bled into a familiar tune. One that would frequent the radio station Steve tuned into at night when he thought everyone else was asleep. Without thought your fingers continued in their dance across the keys without comment until murmurs could be heard from outside the set, “Did they hire another band?”

Another said, “We aren’t even late!”

“We got a contract! They can’t do this!”

Sight of you however in a blue off the shoulder lace dress with a knee visible under the hem of the skirt on the bench had the band that you had met years prior at the White House dinner after receiving your medals. Jarvis with a grin eased into his usual fix it mode and clarified you were merely passing time. Your notice of the band as they approached had you grin and ease off the bench, “Hello.”

“Baroness Pear Howlett,” they each said offering their hands you shook then looked to their horn player who said, “We have to do a sound check and warm up before the scenes, care to play with us?”

“Don’t you need the piano?” you asked and they chuckled.

Their piano player said, “I am good on a dime, if you don’t mind that is.”

Without anything else to do again the song ‘Into Every Life A Little Rain Must Fall’ recorded by The Ink Spots and Ella Fitzgerald was what you began with after they named the tune you had been tapping out. A nod from you had the pianist sit beside you on the spacious bench ready to help you liven up the tune to give a wider range for the others to jump into. Hushed giggles and conversation on ways to shift the tune made for a smile worthy sight when Norma hurried onto set to claim a hug and kiss from Victor and cuddled with him as the other actors bled into sight to fill the seating and standing room.

Shirley Temple and her mom beside Howard’s side had him smirk at Shirley’s soft gasp and comment to her mother, “Momma, it’s really Bunny Pear,” clinging to a magazine spread on you from when you had been featured in Kodak’s magazine.

Howard’s arrival had you and the guys stop playing luring a grin from you for a slip away to his side where he said, “Aren’t you just a treasure trove of talents. Guess your Priest wasn’t kidding about those times you snuck in to play the piano.”

“Well you can blame Steve and Bucky. One would get sick or hurt and they’d play the radio or their few records all night.”

“A rude habit that comes in handy, Bunny, come meet Shirley,”

The teen’s wide smile and flash of the magazine had you smile as she said, “I always cut out stories on you.”

“Well I hope last year’s stories didn’t upset you, papers had some fun with the whole frog debacle.”

“I just knew it wasn’t true,” and she asked, “Could you sign my magazine?”

You smirked and accepted the pocket journal and pen James handed you from your purse widening her grin, “Only if you sign my book too.” She gladly agreed and you traded then traded back and the conversations and introductions continued through the rest of the main cast. Beginning with Lawrence Olivier and Vivien Leigh who proudly signed your book trading for a signature of their own to comments on favorite films as Cary Grant shyly traded his own set for yours before a group picture one of the extras gladly took on your camera James remembered to grab.

Howard however stunned you by placing your family in the crowd and had you up again at the piano for the stunning addition for the background music bits of dialog for a few takes of those scenes. However when it came time to have the band perform fully you, for giggles as Howard suggested with the band’s blessing you helped to sing along as they played, ‘If I Didn’t Care’ also by The Ink Spots. With minimal conversation between the leading men that took two takes after you had excused yourself to join the men in the audience. When the lighting and wardrobe was being shifted to move to a different scene earlier in the film for two more of the band’s own songs you accepted a bottle of apple juice Eddie opened for you Cary Grant came over to your side with a nervous glance your way.

“Thank you,” he said luring a widening grin across your lips. “Howard said you picked me specifically for this role, it’s a heck of a role. You wrote a fantastic screenplay.”

“Well you certainly were at the top of the list for who I would have chosen for Roger,” in the twitch of his brow taking the hint that he might not have been your first choice you said, “I actually had the idea from a dream I had when I was pregnant. Though I do have to admit Roger was a tap dancing rhino in my dream.” You said widening his smile again in an amused chuckle. “But outside of a horn and tail you were at the top of the list.”

“Consider me tickled pink the rhinos are all on strike,” he joked making you giggle and smile as Norma came over to help you share more on the story for the continued series of pictures an approved photographer was allowed to take for a spread on the filming so far. Namely a glimpse at the story of yours Howard was bringing to life.

Lunch however for Howard came with his flying you back for the drive home, and when you were safe on the ground again he said, “Don’t you worry. I’ll keep taking good care of your paperback baby.” He said making you grin in his move back to the steps to climb back in the plane not wanting to leave his friends just yet while also knowing that he had to get back to finish filming for the day.

Victor looped his arm around your back needing someone to cuddle with as Eddie said, “That was fun. And that much fun deserves a big lunch. Seems like they are killing the nightclub scenes.”

James smiled at you and said, “I think for certain now we’ll have a spot in the film at least. If he doesn’t put you singing in it.”

“Oh he better not, I’m not in the screenplay.”

You said and Victor chuckled out, “I highly doubt that matters. He’s got exclusive footage with Bunny singing live. Who wouldn’t buy a ticket for that and to see my Nora on the silver screen.”

“Jeanie, yes, me, no. Leave the band to the job they were hired for.” You were helped into the car for the drive back you all joked through until the excited swarm of babies welcomed you back to your home and main jobs of the summer.

Pt 77

All –

@sherala007, @mariannetora, @jesgisborne, @knitastically, @catthefearless, @theincaprincess, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000, @alishlieb,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore

X Marvel-Cast - @himoverflowers, @theincaprincess

Brother Dearest - @thorinanddwalinsdwarrowdam, @swoopswishsward

#James Howlett x oc #Victor Creed x Norma Jeane #Eddie Brock x OC #Venom #Tutoring #Trip to Stark Filming Location #Howard Stark #Edwin & Ana Jarvis #Marvel #Loki

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cozy-the-overlord · 3 years

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Dances and Daggers

Summary: The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 18: The End

Previous Chapter |

Word Count: 1,793

A/N: Oh my goodness, we're here. We're at the last chapter. I can't believe it. Thank you all so much for reading and liking and commenting-- you've all made the last seventeen weeks absolutely wonderful, and I'm so grateful :)

TW: Mentions of violence, child abuse, description of a dead body

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @moumouton4 @berriemalfoy @whatafuckingdumbass @sophlubbwriting

if you want to be tagged, feel free to just send me an ask/message! :)

Read it on Ao3!

The Winter Festival was in full swing. Teki surveyed the crowd from her place on the royal platform. She still wasn’t entirely comfortable sitting so high above everyone else, but the spot wasn’t anywhere near as unnerving as she had first found it. Besides her, Brant munched contentedly on the meat she had chopped into tiny pieces for him. In the beginning, he had been so frightened of sitting atop the podium that he was afraid to even ask her to cut his food, but after several months he had grown quite at ease with the whole thing.

“Teki!” he’d whisper excitedly, pulling on her sleeve. ”You can see everyone in the hall from here!”

She couldn’t help but grin.

On her other side, Loki grasped her hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

Teki returned his eager smile. “Of course!”

People parted for them as he led her through the crowd, the skirt of her emerald dress billowing around her legs, a silky cloud of green. Loki’s dagger hung at her hip. She had been wearing it every night as of late. It brought a strange sort of tranquility to feel it at her side, something that she hadn’t thought was every possible. It had been hard to look at it at first, to hold it in her hands and know that it had allowed her to take a life. Osvald’s blank stare haunted her whenever she closed her eyes.

But … there was something powerful in it as well, something she couldn’t quite explain. For so long, she had been this helpless little girl who kept her head down and hands clasped in her lap, whose only defense had ever been to close her eyes and hope for the danger to pass, but now … she wasn’t. Everyone knew about her now, not as the fiancé to a prince who held no interest in her, but as a survivor who vanquished the monster who murdered her father. It was an odd feeling. Teki had never expected to command respect of any kind from her fellow Asgardians—even with a future as queen she had always known that she’d exist only in Thor’s shadow—but now, people bowed their heads when she passed.

Loki pulled her on to the dance floor with a twirl, grinning as her dress fanned out around her. Teki giggled.

“Remember the first time you asked me to dance?” she asked suddenly. It seemed eons ago that he had first found her crying on the balcony, and yet somehow it had only been less than a year.

The prince nodded. “I was so nervous,” he confided as he held her closer to him.

Teki laughed incredulously. “You were nervous!”

“I was!” he insisted. “You seemed so sad. I wanted to make you feel better, but I was afraid I was only making things worse.” He paused. “And you were meant for Thor, so I wasn’t certain I’d even be welcome.”

She sighed. That seemed eons ago too—a time where Loki didn’t know her better than she knew herself.

“Well,” she mumbled, cheeks burning. “You’re always welcome.”

He laughed. “Good to know.”

Teki laughed as well, but she hoped he knew how true her words were. She didn’t know what she would have done without Loki these past few months. He had been by her side throughout all the insanity that had followed her mother’s arrest and her stepfather’s demise, whether it was something as grand as testifying before the court that Osvald was killed in self-defense or as simple as sitting next to her at her piano as she played the first few lines of the piece she was composing herself.

He had been with her when she received word that they had found what they believed to be her father’s skeletal remains. Her mother’s confession had included the details of where and how Steinn’s body had been disposed of, down to the gory details that Teki had never wanted to know, how they dismembered him so Osvald could sneak him off world in a rugsack and bury him on Alfheim. Teki’s only attempt to read through the whole thing had ended with her coughing up her breakfast into a chamber pot.

But thanks to Áslaug’s description, they knew where to look, and within a fortnight they found him. Peeling back that blanket to look at her father’s remains had been an experience she couldn’t quite describe. The two felt so disconnected—how could a man so larger than life who she could picture so clearly in her memory be reduced to nothing but a box of dusty bones? For several hours, all she felt was numbness. It wasn’t until late that night that the reality truly struck her. Brant stumbled into her room to find hunched over on her bed, sobbing ferociously into her pillowcase.

They held a funeral for him. It was nothing elaborate, there wasn’t a big production or a huge crowd in attendance, but it was something. Teki didn’t know the next thing about archery, so instead of shooting a flaming arrow, she lit his pyre with a torch before sending it across the water. They probably could’ve gotten a professional archer for it—Loki had offered to shoot it himself—but it had to be her. Teki couldn’t explain it, but it had to be her.

She sighed as her father drifted across the waterfall, across the threshold beyond. It was as if an invisible weight she had carried with her since she was small had floated away as well. He could rest easy now, high in Valhalla. Perhaps she could too.

But there was one thing stopping her from embracing that peace.

Teki followed the guard down through the catacombs of ancient stone, head low. It seemed colder down here, far below the palace. At least, she told herself that’s why she was shivering.

Behind translucent shields of glowing light, prisoners loomed at her as they passed. Teki kept her eyes straight ahead. Based on their biting leers, she got the feeling that they didn’t see a lot of visitors around here.

Her mother sat on the cot in the corner of her cell, picking at her nails. For a moment, Teki almost didn’t recognize her. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her dress plain and shapeless. She couldn’t recall the last time she had seen her mother without her face painted.

Her eyes had lit up when she noticed Teki lingering on the other side of the ray shield.

“Tekla!” she smiled, her voice hoarse. “I hoped you’d come to see me!”

She wasn’t lying. Áslaug had been sending messages to her daughter through the guards nearly every day since she had been arrested, begging her to pay her a visit.

“You realize you don’t have to do it, right?” Loki had asked her. “You’re not beholden to that woman in any way. If you never want to see her again, you don’t have to.”

Teki knew that. And a part of her would be perfectly content to live out her life without her mother ever being in it. But there was another part that wanted to know what Áslaug could possibly have to say to her.

At first, it didn’t seem like much. “How’s Brant?” she asked after a moment of awkward silence.

“He’s well.” Teki’s voice was stiff. When she first decided to visit her mother, she had told herself she’d be polite. But now, looking at her sitting there pretending as if she had ever given a damn about either of her children, Teki decided she’d settle for civil.

Still, her mother continued on in her bubbly, fake happy voice. “Lovely dress.” She gestured to her emerald gown. “So it’s true then? You’re marrying the other one?”

Teki nodded.

Áslaug breathed a chuckle, shaking her head. “All of that, and you’re not even going to be queen.” She let out a sigh. “I suppose the Norns need a good laugh every now and then.”

“I don’t see anything to laugh about.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Look, I know you hate me,” she paused, as if waiting for Teki to contradict her. Teki only stared ahead in stony silence. She huffed. “I want you to understand, everything I did, I did for you.”

Teki raised her eyebrows. ��You killed my father for me?”

“I had to!” Her mother sprung to her feet, leaning as close to the shield as she could without touching it. “Tekla, he didn’t care about your future! We had the chance to make you the most powerful woman in the Nine Realms, and he wanted to let it pass by. Would you be able to forgive me if I hadn’t taken that opportunity?”

“It would have been easier than forgiving you for murdering my father.”

She huffed. “Tekla—”

“What about Osvald?” Teki interrupted. “Did you marry him for me too?”

Her mother sighed. “I didn’t realize what he was like. Had I known—”

“You knew damn well what he was like,” she snapped. “He was willing to kill—”

“For me!” Áslaug pressed her hands to her chest. “He was willing to kill for me. That’s hardly something a woman should pass up.”

“No.” Teki inhaled. Her mother seemed so desperate to convince her, to convince herself that she believed what she was saying. She almost pitied her. “He was willing to kill for what you could give him. He loved you as much as you loved my father.”

Her mother frowned at her. “You’re angry with me now,” she said. “But one day you’ll understand. You’ll wake up and realize that everything you have today, everything you are today, is because of me.”

“You’re wrong,” Teki retorted. “I am what I am today in spite of you, not because.” She let out a shaky breath, motioning towards the guard that she was ready to leave. She met her mother’s glare with a firm stare of her own.

“Goodbye, Mama.” There was nothing else left to say.

The song was changing, morphing from the upbeat strings to the more somber piano solo.

Loki pulled her closer. “Do you want to go to the lake?” he whispered in her ear.

She laughed, cocking her head. “Are you going to push me in?”

“Of course not! Believe me, I learned my lesson with that one.”

“Uh-huh.” Brant was waving at her from the podium. She waved back with a grin. Loki stood beside her, eyebrows raised expectantly. Teki grabbed his hand. “Well, what are you waiting for, my prince? Lead the way!”

This is it, she realized as they scurried through the hallways, giggling like a pair of toddlers.

This is what happiness feels like.

#dances and daggers #loki x ofc #loki marvel #loki fanfic #dances and daggers chapter 18 #the end #cozy writes

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carryon117 · 2 years

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Chapter Thirty-One:

My hands alight with flames and I take a menacing step towards the evil duo. It’s clear that they are not expecting the display of power and their confidence falters even further. The thug that brought me in stands his ground with a smile. But the other goons look to their now fearful leader for instructions or demands of any kind. Pierce looked at Rumlow who brandishes a firearm in my direction.

Should I step in yet, darling?

Not just yet, I’ve got this.

I ignore the minions, creating a wind around each of them to prevent them from handling their weapons with any semblance of control. I stalk a few steps forward toward the two men.

“I am going to take your world from you. I will crumble your very foundations.” As I say this I cause a bit of the floor to shake to emphasize that they hold no power, not anymore. “You are going to live out the rest of your days wondering where you went wrong. But I can assure you, that every moment, every waking moment for the rest of your miserable existence, you will remember my face. The face who brought you to your knees and defeated you just as you were within reach of your goals.”

Aether?

Yes? it slithers.

I don’t want to abuse you or your gifts, but I could use a bit of your assistance.

My pleasure. This time when the voice retreats, I can still feel the presence. I picture the floor underneath Pierce and Rumlow melt into a molten substance, swallowing them up to their chests. I can practically hear the aether smile and nod before doing just that. Pierce looks at me, fear in his eyes, but Rumlow shows only pure rage. At their bosses’ sudden decrease in height the goons around the room try to point their guns at me again.

“Now, I think it's time to drop your weapons.” The thug, who had originally dragged me into the vault, steps forward with a smile. None of the others budge an inch, firearms still trained on me. Pierce shouts from his position, shrugging against the weight, “Apprehend her!”

A blinding green light fills the room, and Loki is standing where the thug was, a mischievous smirk across his face.

“And here I was thinking we could all be friends.” Loki snaps his fingers and illusions of himself with daggers appear scattered throughout the room. “As I was saying, drop your weapons.” The illusions hiss out at the same time. A few of the thugs lower their weapons, but a couple keep their sights trained.

I let my flames glow hotter, raising the temperature. I feel the red light flicker on my face, no doubt painting a twisted picture.

Need some help? The aether seems to smile.

I shrug. If you want to, I’m not opposed.

The next blink has all of the weapons turning into bouquets of flowers. At the sight of the delicate petals instead of the shining metal of their weapons, they begin to shout and some make to leave the vault. As the first one steps a foot outside of the vault a dull thud echoes and he drops to the floor. From the shadows, Steve steps over the unconscious body and enters the vault, shield at the ready. As he approaches us he keeps his eyes trained on Bucky, no longer concerned with goons fumbling with flowers instead of weapons.

“Bucky?” Steve calls out, his voice full of hope.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

“And there it is.” I mutter under my breath. Loki gives me a small smile. Before turning to the rest of the room.

“Alright, Captain, while you have your little reunion, would you mind bringing the Sergeant outside to the car, we will meet you there. We have some pests to take care of.” Loki grins at Pierce and Rumlow, still chest deep in the floor of the vault. Steve nods and gingerly leads the confused looking Bucky from the vault.

“So, what should we do with the rats?”

“Give me one moment, keep everyone here.” Loki nods along with his doubles.

I step to the entryway and pull out my phone. It rings twice before the line is picked up.

“Hill.”

“Is Fury with you?”

“Yes.”

“Can you send someone to pick up a few thugs? We have eyes on Pierce and Rumlow.”

“Sure thing. We are rerouting prisoners to the basement of Stark’s Tower until Hydra is dealt with.”

“Understood.”

I turn back to the room, “Did you hear all of that Loki?”

“Very clear, darling.” Loki conjures up chains and rope to detain the group, before approaching the two in the ground. “And these two?”

“We need to keep an eye on them and directly give them to Fury.”

“Consider it done.” The chunk of ground that held the two disappears with them in tow.

“Where did…?”

“I sent them to Fury like you said.”

I roll my eyes before checking that the goons are completely tied up. I shrug,

“I guess we are done here?” I ask more than state. Loki gestures out of the vault and I exit the room without looking back. As Loki exits he shuts the door behind us.

“That should hold them until your Director can send for them.”

I shrug and continue out of the bank with Loki on my heels.

#marvel reader insert #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3fic #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfic writer #marvel fanfiction #reader insert

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makbarnes · 3 years

Text

Chapter 3

Unbuckling Tatum from her car seat you took her hand, walking through the parking lot. Keeping your eyes on the moving cars you crossed the road in front of the mall before heading inside. Heading through the food court and up the main hallway, you pass store after store, trying to spot the shoe store.

“Where are we going Mommy?” Tatum asked you while you two waited for the elevator.

“We have to get you some new shoes, because you are growing out of your pretty pink ones.” As the elevator doors open you let a rush of people step out before you and Tatum step in along with a few others. Looking out of the window to see the rush of people below you your eyes lock on a guy with shoulder length jet black hair and a slender figure. Dressed in black skinny jeans and a forest green shirt, it felt like your heart stopped. The guy looked exactly like Loki from behind but maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. Plus you weren’t about to ruin the day by running into him with Tatum. It would have been bad enough alone but with her it would be ten thousand times worse. Clearing your mind of him you stepped out of the elevator, still holding Tatum’s hand you made your way to the shoe store. Walking into the stores you saw rows and rows of shoes, heading down the children’s side. Stopping at size three and four you kneeled down to Tatum’s level, letting go of her hand. “Pick one.” Tatum went up to a bright yellow pair with sunflowers accenting the top of the shoe and smiled at you. Taking them from the shelf you pointed at the small seat and unclasped her pink ones she was wearing today. Slipping them onto her feet you held her hands, as she stood up.

“Walk a little bit, sweetie.” Tatum took a few steps around you and her face looked painful.

“No?” You moved the shoe box while Tatum came back over to you. Sitting back down in the chair you took off the yellow ones and set them back onto the shelf. Grabbing a blue pair with multicolored painted fish over them from the shelf you held them up to her.

“Wanna try these?” Tatum nodded her head and you strapped those onto her feet. Setting the box down next to her pink ones she wore in, Tatum stood back up and walked around again. Keeping her eyes on her feet you smiled while she stomped around. She had no idea what she was doing but it was cute. Tatum’s eyes locked on a plain purple pair of shoes and she pulled on the box.

“Can I try these?” “Mhm.” Grabbing the pair in front of her Tatum rushed into the chair excitedly and you took of the blue shoes. Keeping those off the shelf, you helped Tatum with the purple shoes and she kicked them around like she did with the other two pairs.

“You like those?” Tatum nodded her head and you tapped the seat. Taking off the shoes and switching them with her pink ones you picked up the two pairs of shoes. Taking Tatum’s hand you walked with her up to the counter. The clerk ringing them up and bagged them for you.

“56.80.” You took out your debit card and handed it to the clerk, having her swipe the card in the machine she handed it back to you. Slipping it back into you small wallet you grabbed the bag and walked out of the store with Tatum. Hearing your phone chime from your back pocket you stopped walking, taking it out. Unlocking the screen you see a text from your best friend and click the message.

Come by Build-a-bear today for 50% off your first bear. Your best friend worked at Build a bear and she kept telling you Tatum would love to build one. She would even help her to personally design one. Sticking your phone back into your pocket you decided to take Tatum to build a bear. After going to the car and putting her shoes in the trunk, just so you wouldn't have to carry them.

“Tatum, do you want to go to Build-A-Bear?”

“Bear! Bear!” You smiled and walked with her to the shop. Going past the bright yellow bear soldiers outside you saw a rush of children, picking out clothes and animals. Seeing your friend behind the counter, talking to a mom you threw up your hand and she nodded her head back at you. Going over to the empty animals you picked Tatum up on your hip so she could get a better look.

“Hi there, Welcome to Build-A-Bear. Where you can make your own friend.” A clerk walked up to you, and smiled widely at Tatum.

“Tatum, do you know what kind of animal you want?” Tatum pointed at a white bear with rainbow hearts over it. Taking her off of your hip you pulled down the empty bear lining and handed it to the clerk.

“Okay, let's go give this bear some life.” The clerk held out her hand to Tatum and she gripped your own tighter.

“I got her.” The clerk nodded to you and you followed her over to the stuffing machine where she strapped the empty bear onto the end. Grabbing the blue handle on the machine the clerk motioned for Tatum to help her. Tatum let go of your hand and stood beside the clerk. Pushing down on the wheel a yellow spiral inside began to move, pushing stuffing into the bear. Taking out your phone you snapped a few pictures of Tatum pushing on the handle.

“Alright, one more turn and they are done.” The clerk helped Tatum turn the handle before stopping it and grabbing the bear off of the end.

“Now while I go and finish your bear you can pick out an outfit and then pick out a heart and do the three magic steps on the wall over there.” The clerk fixed some stuffing in the bear and she directed you to the clothes.

“Tatum, do you want it to be a girl or a boy bear?”

“Girl, like me.” You nodded, understanding her, you went with her over to the dresses. PIcking her up on your hip again and picked up a little pink ballerina. Tatum instantly shaking her head you put it down.

“Well choose one baby.”

“That one.” Tatum pointed at a navy blue dress with white stars all over it, paired with a white jean jacket and a white belt. You picked it up off of the rack and tucked it across your arm. Looking around a bit you see three trays of satin hearts, next to a poster with the magic steps on them. Taking Tatum over to the trays you set her down and she grabbed a blue heart out of the tub. You kneeled down in front of her and brushed her black hair from her face.

“Here is your bear. Have you done your magic so they can come to life?”

“We were just about to.”

“Oh great. I’ll help you put some magic into it myself.” The clerk handed you the bear and she kneeled down in front of Tatum.

“Okay, cup the heart in your hands.” Tatum cupped the little blue heart and smiled.

“Next, you need to rub it against your heart so it will love you forever.” Tatum took the blue heart and rubbed it in a circle over her heart. You snapped a photo of her and glanced around a bit.

“Now, squeeze it tight, close your eyes and make a wish.” You watch Tatum’s movements, and decided to take out your phone and started a video.

“Bye Darling, Stay safe.” Hearing a familiar dark yet soft velvety voice you turn to see Loki standing at the counter. You felt your breath stop when he locked eyes with you, your heart felt like a hummingbird and your mind blocked out all the noise. Time felt still, He looked the same since he left you. Same long black hair, wearing clothes that you even bought him, yourself. You felt as if you were stuck in the motion forever.

“Mommy! Mommy!” You blinked rapidly and kneeled down to Tatum, smiling while pretending to listen to what she was saying, but still your eyes watched Loki as his eyes darted to Tatum. You saw his face drop to pure sadness and he dashed out of the store. You felt your hand start to shake and you stopped recording the video you started.

“And now you just spin around three times.” Tatum spun around while you handed the bear to the clerk, and Tatum stuck the heart into its chest.

“Have the clothes?” You handed the clerk the dress from your hands and she smiled.

“Let’s go make her your own.” You and Tatum followed the clerk over to a station where there were sheets of paper and a small sewing machine.

“Have a name for this cutie yet?”

“Mhm. Bucksie.” You rolled your eyes and kneeled down at her level again.

“Sweetie, Won’t you get confused because of Bucky next door?” Tatum shook her head, making her hair shake.

“No, this is Bucksie. Not Bucky, Mommy.”

“Alright…Bucksie it is.” The clerk finished sewing up the bear’s chest and handed her back to Tatum. Typing out the name on a computer, she asked for Tatum’s name before printing it out. Handing it to you she shook Tatum’s hand before you went up to the counter and paid for the bear. Heading home, Tatum hugged the bear all the way home and even when she went into the apartment. Sitting down on her little play mat she started introducing Bucksie to her other toys.

___________________________________________________________________________

Later that night after you had tucked Tatum into bed with her new bear, You had made home on the couch and had been nursing a pint of ice cream. Watching an old movie on the Chiller network, you ate another spoon of ice cream before jumping at the action on screen. Hearing a scream echoing in your head, you realized that it wasn’t just in your head and it was coming from across the hall. Pausing the movie, you sat the pint on the coffee table and opened your door into the hallway to hear the screams louder. It sounded like Bucky screaming and you were worried, having not seen him since the date. You knocked on his door and there was no answer so you tried the knob. It wasn’t normal for you to invade into other’s privacy, but the screams were getting worse.

“No! Don’t hurt her!” Bucky’s voice echoed in your ears, and you quietly made your way towards the screaming. Seeing Bucky tossing and twisting in bed you were scared. You had never seen someone act like this. Loki had nightmares, which you were guessing what these were. But he made the sheets get icy and his skin turned blue. You could always snap him out of it, but snuggled him until he woke up. But Bucky didn’t have powers like him, Just a dangerous metal arm and killer assassin moves.

“{Y/N}! Get away from her!” You went around the corner into his bedroom and gently climbed onto his bed. Bucky had his pillow clenched tightly in his hands while his blanket was twisted around his waist. Curling up next to him, you grab his hands and tuck your nose into his neck.

“Bucky, It’s okay. I’m here. Wake up.” You whispered into his ear, and he turned over to face you, his eyes were still clenched shut.

“Bucky, Wake up.” Moving his hair away from his eyes he jerked up and grabbed your wrist tightly.

“{Y/N}” Bucky loosened his grip on your wrist and his arms snaked around you lovingly.

“Are you okay? I heard you screaming from my apartment.” Bucky’s nose tucked into your neck and you brushed his hair back. Your felt his body shaking against you and you sat up facing him.

“Do you want to go back to my apartment? Try and sleep while I’m there.” Bucky nodded his head and you took his hand into your own. Pulling him out of his own bed you led him across the hall into your apartment. Shutting the door behind Bucky you pointed to the couch and went into the kitchen. You opened the fridge, grabbing two bottles of water before sitting down in your same place on the couch. Grabbing the small blanket you had around your legs you pulled Bucky’s arm a little and he moved up against you. Wrapping his arm around your waist his head rested on your upper arm.

“It was a nightmare? Wasn’t it...Loki had those all the time.”

“They were hurting you and Tatum...and I couldn’t do anything about it….I tried.” You felt one of his tears run down your arm and you kissed the top of his head.

“I don’t mean to scare you, because I am thinking about you being with me all the time...But I can’t control them.”

“Bucky, you don’t have to apologize, It’s perfectly fine.” You scratched the side of your head and yawned a little. Staying quiet you heard Tatum quietly talking in her room and moved out from under Bucky, heading to her room. Getting her out of her bed you grabbed her bear and headed back to the living room. Tatum gripped onto her bear and you sat back down next to Bucky, cuddling her into your chest.

“Shhh, go back to sleep.”

“Bucksie wanted to talk.” Tatum said sleepily before adjusting herself in your lap.

“Bucksie?” Bucky opened his eyes a little wider to see the bear Tatum was holding tightly. “We went to Build-A-Bear today and she named her Bucksie...I guess after you? I don’t know.” Tatum opened her eyes a little and moved over to sit on Bucky’s lap.

“Tatum…” Reaching for her Bucky motioned you away and he made himself comfortable so Tatum could sleep.

“What were you watching?”

“Just some movie. I can stop it, if you want.” Bucky took the remote and pressed play letting it play the movie. You got up quietly and put the ice cream in the freezer and sat back down. Scooting right next to Bucky you smiled while laying against him.

“You want to talk anymore about it?”

“You don’t want to hear it.” Bucky spoke softly, trying to let Tatum rest peacefully, sweeping some of her hair away from her face he smiled gently at her.

“Yes I do. Tell me.”

“Okay, I was back in the brainwashing room they had in HYDRA and You were strapped to a chair with cuts and bruises all over you while Tatum wasn’t there. BUt they had a gun to your head and kept hitting you over and over. Telling me to give them information and then they would let you go.” You sat up a little and pressed a loving kiss on Bucky’s lips.

“Do you have these a lot?”

“Only when I have a bad mission or I overthink things.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Bucky.” Bucky didn’t reply and you just stayed silent. Hearing Tatum’s quiet snoring, you pulled the blanket over your legs and moved it over Bucky’s lap as well to cover Tatum. A few moments later you felt your eyes getting heavy and Bucky wrapped his arm around you tightly, holding you against him. Sinking into his body his scent flooded your nostrils and it reminded you of a comforting fall day, Fresh rain with an Evergreen tree. You closed your eyes fully and slowly went to sleep, not feeling any worry about Bucky being with you.

NEXT CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST

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simsadventures · 4 years

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Paint Me Pretty

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You have an idea on how to spice up your sex-life with Bucky. Will he be down for one of your crazy ideas? Especially when it involves paint and naked bodies?

Warnings: fluff, smut (MUST BE 18+ TO READ THIS STORY), body paint(?)

Word Count: 1740

A/N: This idea was brought to you by a challenge thrown upon me by the loveliest Satan @official-and-unstable-satan. The first GIF for this challenge was Deadpool holding a bunch of paints, looking like Deadpool, and the second one was Loki saying “I’ll have that drink now”. I had to incorporate these two things and create a story and voila, here it is. Hope you guys will enjoy it :) xx

Bucky Barnes Masterlist __ Masterlist

Being the girlfriend of James Buchanan Barnes had its perks. Not only were you accepted between the Avengers and you even felt like a part of the team, you also dated one of the hottest, if not the hottest man in America right now. There were very few things not to totally adore about him.

He was smart, funny, beautiful, attentive, protective, and so much more that your heart was ready to burst whenever you were with him. Of course, there were things that needed improvement, but who didn’t have those, right?

When you met Bucky two years ago, he was very closed-off, he barely ever spoke outside of the comfort of his or your apartment, and to get him to kiss you took you a good 5 dates. Not that you complained. You hated when men tried to jump your bones on the very first date, and at least that way with Bucky, you could get to know his soul before you learned about his body.

And there was so much to learn! Because of Bucky’s past, he himself was pretty unaware of what he liked and disliked, what was something that he wanted to try or what was a no-no for him. You got to learn all these things alongside him, and you were eternally grateful for that. You still lively remembered the first time you called him “daddy” between sheets and the way his cheeks suddenly turned bright red, although his eyes grew three shades darker.

You then discussed it with him, asking him if he liked it, and although it took a lot of coaxing from you, he finally admitted that yes, indeed, he was a fan of this particular nickname, although he didn’t need you to call him daddy all the time.

With sergeant, that was a different story. It slipped past your lips after one of his mission when he got home to you still in his tactical gear. It felt natural, and the growl that left his chest just spurred you on in calling him that in the bedroom. He later said that he never felt such hunger in his life.

And ever since that, you tried to find other things that made his skin crawl with excitement and horniness. You knew he had some experience during the 40s, but you also knew that most of the experience was fairly vanilla, with a pinch of some bites and hickeys. Bucky even said that in those times these bites were generally frowned upon and he was seen as one of the naughtiest people in New York.

He then laughed knowing that a simple bite didn’t do it for you, and when he slowly found out all your kinks, he knew that his buddies back from the time wouldn’t even believe him if he told them about how you loved to be choked, denied orgasms, or how anal wasn’t a swearword in your bedroom.

He knew he had to expect new things from you because you loved to experiment, but what he didn’t expect was to come in in your shared bedroom to find you naked in the middle of the room with four bottles of paint in your arms standing on top of a canvas.

He perched an eyebrow and didn’t move from his position, just assessing the whole situation enfolding in front of him.

You patiently watched the circles in his mind turn, but because it took too long for your liking, you smiled at your boyfriend sweetly and beckoned him to come closer to you.

He did so cautiously, taking off his shoes and standing next to you on the canvas. His eyes took in your body, stopping at the arc of your breasts, licking his lips mindlessly. When his eyes met yours again, you could see he was already intrigued by whatever was happening in front of him.

“Would you like a drink before I explain what I had in mind for today?” You asked Bucky sweetly, wanting to make sure he was comfortable and maybe a little more pliable than usually. But he shook his head and kept staring at you intently. You scolded yourself for getting naked so early because you felt like he wouldn’t say no to you now. But you wanted this to be an enjoyable experience for both of you, and not only because it would involve raw fucking. But what could you do now, right?

“Alright, so I was thinking, and I came up with something I thought might be fun. It will be messy as hell, but I’ll clean up afterwards, gladly on my own, might I add. How about we make a painting with our bodies? While we’re fucking?” You said as quickly as possible and bit your lip, waiting for Bucky’s reaction.

You could hear the circles in his mind finally click, and the expression on his face changing from utterly confused to mildly intrigued.

“Why would we do that? I mean, can’t we just fuck as is?” He asked, putting his hand on your collarbone, drawing little circles there, knowing full well how much you loved when he did that.

“Ugh, Bucky! C’mon, don§t you think it will be hot to then frame a part of the picture, if it’s like, super pretty, and hang it somewhere in the house to show to everyone, but nobody will know we actually did it while fucking? I, for one, think it would be incredibly hot,” you countered and waited for his reaction.

Bucky obviously mused for a second or two, and when he finally decided, you could feel your heart beat a little harder. He would actually do it!

His clothes were sent flying across the room, and in no time, Bucky was standing in front of you completely naked.

“So, how do we do this?” He asked as he put some strands of hair behind your ear.

“It’s easy. I’ve already heated the colours as per the instructions. This is a paint specifically made to use for this body painting, so you don’t have to worry. And now all we have to do is to put some of the paint on the canvas, some on your bodies, and then we can fuck till we can’t no more. Sounds good?”

Bucky didn’t answer you. Instead, he kissed you passionately, revelling at the feeling of not yet being covered from head to toe in paint.

“What colours did you choose, doll? Something I’ll like?”

“Yup! I’m not stupid! I went for the classic: black, blue and white. I think it’ll look real pretty. Especially with our black sofa and all, you know? It will be super badass and hot!” You whispered into Bucky’s ear, and that was his moment.

He swiftly grabbed the colours and poured some on the canvas while squirting some on your chest and belly, doing the same to himself. You looked at each other, and although it would have been a funny scene under normal circumstances, there was nothing funny about it now.

Bucky grabbed you and pushed his chest against your, tangling his fingers in your hair and kissing you breathless.

In no time, you were sitting on Bucky, dry humping his thigh while rubbing his cock between your belly. The paint was all over both of you by now, different shades of blue could be found on Bucky’s shoulders and your thighs, while the rest was mixing in a beautiful fusion on both the canvas and you.

Bucky quickly grabbed your thighs and laid you down on the canvas, making his way between your legs, rubbing his achingly hard cock between your dripping folds. He took a quick glance on the sheet underneath you and then at you, and he could have sworn he fell in love with you even more than he already was.

You looked like a French model on canvas, all painted, moaning and dripping only for him, solely for your artist whom you allowed to touch you anyhow he liked.

Without a further warning, Bucky sheeted himself inside you until his pelvis was touching yours. Your back arched and your hands slapped the canvas in need to try and grab something to ground yourself from all the pleasure you were feeling.

Every movement was calculated and languid, the whole fucking session sensual but still somehow desperately hot. You could feel Bucky’s breath against your shoulder, the hot air hitting your burning skin sending shivers down your spine.

“More, I need more baby,” you urged Bucky on, needing to feel him all over your body. And Bucky was more than happy to oblige.

He picked up the speed, making your toes curl while your left hand pinched your nipple with your right hand drawing on the canvas.

It took Bucky only a few more thrusts before he felt you coming around him, your walls drawing an orgasm from him as well. You both chanted each other’s name like a prayer, never wanting to let go. It was, without a doubt, the most intense feeling you’ve ever had. You were drunk on sex, love, and art, and you couldn’t get enough.

Bucky kissed your forehead before he carefully pulled out of you and looked for the prepared slippers by the canvas before he helped you get up as well.

When you were both on your knees (although you needed Bucky to hold you close, you didn’t trust your legs just yet), you both looked at your piece of art.

It was mesmerisingly beautiful. It was the perfect combination of colours, and it was the perfect proof of your love and desire. You both stared at it silently, enjoying the moment passing between you.

Bucky then squeezed your hip, making you look up at him, and he smiled at you, lovingly.

“Thank you for this, Y/N. I didn’t think we could create something so bewitching. But here it is, and we’re hanging it up as soon as it dries! But to get back to you, I’ll have that drink now, if I may,” he smirked at you, and you just shook your head, laughing.

“Sure, let’s just have a hot shower to get the paint off of us and then we can get drunk as fuck, and we can try to have a totally wasted sex afterwards. Sounds good?” You smirked at Bucky and walked towards the bathroom, Bucky quickly following. He couldn’t wait for round two.

Forever Tag:

@eileenalone @sasbb23 @p8tn0lish @coffeebooksandfandom @waiting4inspiration @caswinchester2000 @mogaruke @justthatfangirloverthere @mushyjellybeans @livsheph @sebbbystaaan @notyourtypicalrose @itsunclebucky @rinkashirikitateku @leosandbuckysgirl @miraclesoflove @keithseabrook27

Bucky Taglist

@this-kitten-is-smitten @paradisiacalsparks @crazybutconfidentaf @owlyannah @lassini @s-trawberryv-eins @reniescarlett @bxrnsfeyson @the-soulofdevil @haru-ririchiyo @winterboobear11

Marvel Taglist

@voltage-my2dlove @kneel-begyourpardon @lumar014 @ptrs-prkrs

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lokiandbuckyaremine · 4 years

Text

Sleepovers and Braiding Hair

Prompt: “Hi I saw your prompt list :) could you do 5 with Loki where Loki feels sad that he still doesn’t fit in too well with the team and the reader is just trying to hard to get his attention and asks him to join her to a sleepover in her room where they paint each other’s nails and watch movies and stuff and he’s all like “do you really want to spend time with me???” All soft and she’s like duh your awesome and my new bestie/secret crush” ~ Anon

5. If It is worth spending time with you, I will gladly do it.

Warnings: Fluffy LOKI!!!!!!!!! Kissing and maximum cutie

(PROMPT LIST) ~ Requests are OPEN!

It was his mysterious ways. It was the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It was the way he always knew the right thing to say. You could name 100 things things you loved about Loki, but there was something that still held you back from coming up front and telling him. Maybe it was the fact that he was oblivious to EVERY hint you dropped him. Ever since the attack in New York, Loki felt that everyone in the Avengers hated him even though they started to warm up to the little trickster. There had to be some way you could break through to him....

Thoughts kept stirring in your head as you checked your watch, noticing it was almost time for dinner. It was Cap’s night to cook, and you couldn’t wait because he was making homemade pizza, a tradition from where he grew up. Walking down the hallway, you passed Loki’s room and saw the door was open. His room is NEVER open. You peaked inside and saw no one was in there, so being the nosy person you are you started to look around. His room was oddly simple: a bed, a couple of bookshelves with spell books and whatnot, some Asgardian decor, but then there was this one item that caught your attention....a frame. It contained a picture set from a photo booth you dragged him into last summer. You remember that day like it was yesterday. You and Loki became very good friends, and were finally able to spend the day together. You had showed him around the local places and brought him to an amusement park where you had fallen hard for the god. It was when Loki asked to go on the ferris wheel at night when you knew he was the one for you. Thoughts of that amazing day were interrupted when you heard a squeaking sound, almost like a faucet turning off. You gulped and remembered him and Thor shared a bathroom that was connected between the two rooms.

Trying to find a place to hide, you tripped over the accent rug that was in the middle of Loki’s floor and landed with an ‘oof’. You heard snickering and peered to see a dangerously shirtless Loki hovering above you. “If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked, love.” He extended his hand to help you up and you stuck your tongue out at him. “Very funny. Was just coming in here to tell you dinner is almost ready.” He nodded and noticed you were still staring at his chiseled chest. Clearing his throat, Loki walked over to his dresser to throw on a tank. Why did he have to be your “friend”? He was so damn sexy.

Not even thinking, you regretted the question that was about to come out of your mouth. “Hey, you wanna have a sleepover?” Loki froze and peered over his shoulder, clueless. “I beg your pardon.” He walked slowly over towards you and crossed his arms. “WELL, I was thinking that I could treat you to a sleepover and kinda make it like a hangout. We haven’t done that in a while. Just us two.” It’s true. You and Loki haven’t been hanging out for a long time and you wondered why he switched his attention to elsewhere. He raised an eyebrow still wondering why you’re asking. Loki knew that you have always been the one person to include him with everything: training, hanging out, movie nights, anything that you loved to do. Though he felt unsure where it would lead or how the team would react, he knew you were asking from your heart. And after all he missed the times you shared together. He shrugged and threw an arm around you. “If it is worth spending time with you, I will gladly do it.” You squealed and squeezed him. “Yay! Ok, so after dinner I’ll set up everything and wait for you.”

You were so different than he was...selfless, caring, loving, yet knew how to handle your own business and that’s what he loved about you. He was scared but just waiting for the right moment to admit it...

When dinner was over and you were stuffed, you rushed upstairs to prepare your room for the ultimate sleepover. Not knowing how he’d react, you didn’t overload it with cheesy sleepover activities. It was going to be a big step for your friendship, and you felt that Loki would figure out your feelings. BUT this was your plan: movies, popcorn, maybe some cuddling, but more importantly you were going to tell him how you felt. Fluffing up another pillow, you smiled at your clean and lightly dimmed room with Loki’s favorite candle burning in scattered areas. A soft knock on your door made your heart flutter and you leaped over to it. Opening it, you came face to face with a rather comfortable looking Loki. He wore an impossibly tight black henley with baggy black sweatpants and his hair in a low bun. “I hear there is a sleepover, mind if I crash it?” He smirked down at you and you could feel the slow heat rising to your cheeks.

Motioning him in, you gazed over to him, seeing he was getting wrapped in his surroundings. A smile painted his face as he inhaled the familiar scent of Mahogany. “Ah, Mahogany. You know me so well, love.” Giggling you went to grab his hand and he was a bit hesitant. A worried look came to your face and he could tell he was making you uneasy. “Sorry, it’s just I’ve never done something like this. Especially with you.” You stuck your hip out and shot him a very unamused look. “Loki, we’ve known each other for a very long time. Trust me.” Those words. No one has ever gave him the capability of holding them. But you were his safe haven.

Instead of you trying to grab his hand again, he walked over and touched your cheek with his palm. It was so soft and you nearly melted with his touch. Peering up to his blue eyes, you noticed that he was giving you permission to do whatever you had wanted to. Smirking devilishly you pulled him over to the bed and asked him to sit on the floor. “Can’t I just stay on the bed with you, darling?” He waited for an answer as you popped in “13 Going On 30″ and kept smiling. “Shhh, the movie’s about to start.” He sighed dramatically and shook his head. “You really are something, my love. You’re so lucky I love you.”

Your head snapped to him and you squinted your eyes, as if you were making sure you heard him right. “What did you just say?” Eyes wide, Loki cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Shhh, movie’s starting.” His attention focused on the TV as you climbed on the bed behind him and began to undo his bun. Surprisingly he wasn’t phased by this and remained watching. Running your fingers through his long black locks, you could see that he was leaning into your touch with every stride you made. Grabbing two pieces of hair, you began to French Braid. Loki just hummed and even though you couldn’t see it, you knew he was smiling. “Love, your hands are like heaven. Please don’t stop.” You giggled in response, and leaned forward to press a kiss on the side of his cheek.

He jumped in response and got up quickly, causing you to slid back on the bed. The both of you stared at one another, unsure of how he just took your bold action. Feeling really awkward, you got up and walk towards the door. “I’m sorry, Loki. I shouldn’t have done that. Maybe you should leave.” He remained to stare at you, unable to put together that you felt the same way he wanted to be with you. A small tear was beginning to form on your eyelid as you thought you had just ruined your friendship and possible relationship with him. But Loki instead walked over to you quickly and crashed his lips on yours. The kiss got more and more heated as he pressed you against the wall behind you and pressed his body to yours; kissing you like his life depended on it. You’ve dreamed of this moment for a very long time. Smiling through the kiss, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and braced for what was about to come. Your hands slid into his thick black hair and he moaned at the slight tugs you gave. He held you tightly against him as his mouth moved perfectly against yours; driving you crazy. His tongue slipped into your mouth, making you moan into the kiss.

After what felt like forever, you both pulled apart and stared into the other’s eyes. His devilish smirk filled his face. “I have been wanting to do that for a very long time, my darling.” You giggled and pulled apart slightly. “Really? Cause I feel like whenever I tried to drop hints to you, it never worked.” He laughed and ran his fingers through his now messy hair. “Well duh, you’ve been a long time crush of mine and I wasn’t sure how you felt about being that way with me.” Bringing him over to the bed, you both sat down as you grabbed his hand. “Loki, I planned this night just so I could finally tell you how I feel. How i want to be with you everyday and have you make love to me. How I love the way you’re so mysterious yet light-hearted when you’re with me. This was my night, but you kinda picked it up beforehand.” If there was anything that could be perfect, it was his smile at you in that moment. The crinkles appeared on the sides of his eyes and his teeth were glistening in the dim light.

“You really want to spend your time with me?” He grazed your jaw with his thumb and you hummed back. Bringing you closer to him, you sank into his chest and breathed his warm scent. “Well, then I’m all yours, darlin. You made me a new man and I’m forever grateful for that. You want to have sleepovers for the rest of our lives?” Giggling into his chest, you brought yourself up to place a small kiss on his soft lips. “If it means sleeping next to the love of my life, then yes.” Sealing the moment with yet more kisses, you stood up with him. “What do you say we get rid of these clothes, my love, and I’ll show you how I want my sleepovers to go?” Loki’s eyes were dark and you could tell he wanted you right then and there. Nodding quickly, you both shed what was left of your clothes and gathered in bed for what would be the most romantic night of your life.

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A/N: SORRY this one was a lil long. But I really hope the anon liked this. Who doesn’t love sexy and soft Loki? PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT, AND REBLOG!

Tag List (Open): @jobean12-blog @littlenerdgirl16 @jokesonjess @jewels2876 @mashtons-dirtbag @hernameiswhatt @ballyhoobarnes @lauxeyson @thiddlestoff @thatbitchsaidhi @marvelous-heroimagines @iamwarrenspeace @violentlybarnes @moondancewrites @toddneilanderperry @mizz-kraziii @lovelybones81 @thinemineours @godohammers @buckywhoops @thatfangirl16 @thummbelina @notyourtypicalrose

#loki x reader #loki #loki x reader fluff #tom hiddleston #marvel #request

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mostly-marvel-musings · 4 years

Text

A Mere Mortal - Chapter Two

A/N: This story is based on the prompt : Vampires cannot enter a house without your permission, but what if your landlord’s a vampire? It’s his house, he’s just letting you live there. Part of the Landlord Vampire Fic Frenzy hosted by the amazing @just-the-hiddles. I’m super nervous about this one, so feedback’s most welcome!

Series Masterlist

Tags : @buckybarnesplumwhore @ladyacrasia

Pairing: Vampire! Bucky Barnes x Vampire! Loki x Human! Reader

Word count: 1670

Warnings: Foul language. Smut in future chapters. 18+ content!

Taglists open! Let me know if you would like to be tagged in the future chapters.

...

Bucky’s POV

I noticed a car pull up in the square just as I was about to head back home. I stopped to see who I assumed was (Y/N) step out of that car. I was standing at the far end of Chapel Street, I knew she couldn’t see me.

My enhanced eyesight being an advantage, I hid behind a tree and watched her every move. She was beautiful in the most unconventional way. She looked around the town with a child-like curiosity. I suppose she’ll grow to love the town.

The breeze made her hair blow care free in the mid-morning sun. The whiff of her tea tree and lavender shampoo made its way to my nostrils. The scent made my head spin and I had to stop myself from approaching her right then and there and introduce myself. I decided to send her a ‘welcome to Dewsbury’ text instead, as I turned to return home once again. I’ll meet her soon. I have to.

…

Looks like a lot of luggage. You’ll be exhausted after all that moving. Why don’t I come over with a welcome drink? It’s about time we met (Y/N) – James B

As you read James’ text, you couldn’t help but feel a little weird. He seems to be aware of everything, very stalker-ish. But the rational side of your brain intervened, it’s a pretty small town, word must’ve gotten around about the moving trucks and the ‘new girl’, so you shrugged it off and got to work.

About two hours into unpacking, when you were just about done, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was coming over.

He said he’d come by didn’t he? Something must’ve come up, you defended his absence in your mind. Since when were you waiting around for a guy to show up? That too someone who you’d never actually seen in person. It was the damn voice. Okay maybe you were reading too much into it.

Shaking your head to derail your train of thoughts, you looked around your new house proudly. A low rumble in your stomach announced that you were famished. You figured you’d go to the grocery store that was a ten minute walk from the house and buy essentials.

So grabbing a warmer jacket, wallet and keys, you stepped out.

The walk to the store turned into a jog as the wind had turned brutal. The sky was painted in beautiful twilight colors and you couldn’t resist taking your phone out to get a picture.

You heard a shuffling sound coming from your right. You stopped and looked towards the woods, hoping to spot the source of the noise. You found nothing. As you turned back you swore you saw a shadow move through the woods from the corner of your eye.

Before you let panic set in, the rational part of your brain convinced you that it was your mind playing tricks on you. It might have been an animal of some sort.

You kept your gaze on the ground as you picked up the pace, but suddenly bumped into a tall figure.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see-

Your head snapped up at the voice, recognizing it immediately. The same voice that you found oddly calming over the phone. The voice that made you dream about what the person behind it looks like. Now you had finally come face to face with your landlord.

“You must be (Y/N). We meet at last.” He replied offering you his hand as a warm smile played on his lips.

The initial shock evaporated as you had to mentally shake yourself from getting lost in his steel blue eyes.

He had a well chiseled face with a neatly trimmed beard adorning it, and light brown hair that looked way too fluffy. You found yourself wondering what it’d be like to run your fingers through them.

Your eyes trailed over his body, he wore a white button down shirt tucked neatly in black pants and he was wearing oxford shoes. What’s with the formal look, you thought.

“Uh y-yes I am. It’s nice to finally meet you Mr Barnes.” You clasped his hand in yours and immediately felt his freezing cold skin against your much warmer hand. He must’ve sensed that as he broke contact at that moment and shoved his hand back in his pockets.

“I was coming over to say hi. Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah I’m actually headed to the grocery store. I figured I’d buy some stuff for the house and get stuff for dinner you know.” You replied, looking at the ground, hands buried deep in your jacket as well.

“Of course. Do you mind if I accompany you to the store? I could probably answer some questions you might have about the house. Unless you want to do it another time.”

He looked at you expectantly, waiting for your reply.

You agreed, surprised initially, and started walking down the road in silence.

You kept glancing at each other after every few minutes followed by an awkward smile. No this cannot turn into one of those horribly awkward meets, you decided you’d do something.

“You were gonna show up two hours earlier.”

“What?” James looked at you perplexed.

Of all things you could think of, you decided to come off as a desperate woman who was waiting around for some guy to show up. Great. You cringed internally.

“I mean, I got your text about two hours ago saying you’d be coming over and then you didn’t show up. Not that I was waiting or anything. Just you didn’t show up. Which is fine.” You continued to ramble trying to cover your embarrassment with some more.

He was amused looking at your flustered state, finding it quite endearing. He laughed before saying, “Oh right I did. I was about to leave the house when one of my old pals showed up. We got to talking and I completely forgot to call you to let you know I’d be late. Sorry about that.”

What he didn’t say, was the fact that Loki showed up at his house unannounced, like he always did. He had met you at the library earlier that day and was intrigued by your demeanor. He wouldn’t shut up about you and described you like an object of wonder which made James worry about you. He’d have to keep Loki away from you. If only it were easy. Loki was known to get his way once he set his eyes on something, or someone.

“Okay.” Was all you managed, not really sure why you spoke up in the first place. You decided to remain silent for the rest of the walk.

…

A worn out signboard of Fred’s Family Mart came into view after a while. It had a faulty light on the right side of it which was flickering constantly. The street was relatively empty except a few people walking in and out of the pubs. The wind making the leaves rustle gently with a distinct whooshing sound, made it look like a typical thriller scene setting.

You stepped in, James followed closely behind. The store wasn’t huge, but it was big enough and had practically everything you could possibly need.

“So (Y/N), tell me about yourself.” James asked as you picked a trolley and walked further into the store.

“Well, I’m a writer. I love to travel, that’s kinda obvious I guess. Not a lot of family, none that I’m close to anyway. My parents split up when I was twelve, and I chose to stay with my Dad. He runs a publishing house, so I was always surrounded by stories which slowly nudged me into writing.” You said while picking through cereal boxes, stopping every now and then to look at him.

“Wow a writer that’s fascinating. What do you write about?” he seemed genuinely interested.

“Mostly fiction. I’ve written a few thriller short stories. New places and towns like these always serve as an inspiration for me. I’ve always had a thing for horror though. The whole paranormal and mystical genre is my jam. I know it sounds weird right?”

He looked at you with a surprised expression as he grinned and added, “No no not at all. It’s good to know. I’m just used to girls saying they’re into romance or comedy at least. Never horror though.”

You were nothing like he imagined you to be. It just made him want to get to know you more.

“That’s such a cliché. I don’t blame you though. But I’m here to break the stereotype.” You said sending a wink his way as you picked out some veggies and fruit, feeling more comfortable around him now.

“Tell me about Dewsbury, Mr Barnes.”

The way you called him Mr Barnes made it difficult to not imagine you saying the same in a different scenario. A very different scenario. He wondered how much of that confident woman persona would differ in the bedroom, if it would. You seemed like someone who’d like to be in control of every situation. That’d be fun to explore, he thought. Perhaps he could teach you…Before his cock expressed interest in that subject, he shook those train of thoughts away and replied.

“Well there’s a lot that would be of interest to you here. This town’s full of rich history and myths. And please call me Bucky, Mr Barnes makes me sound like a sixty year old.” he replied, as you both made your way to the checkout counter. A tall man stood with a bored expression on his face, as you started unloading the trolley.

“Alright Bucky. Myths you say, that’s already got me hooked. What kind?” You asked him with excitement clearly visible in your eyes.

You missed the man and Bucky exchanging a knowing look, as you were busy picking out a flavor of gum that the side of the counter displayed.

“Dewsbury is notoriously famous for vampires (Y/N).”

…

Next Chapter

#landlord vampire fic frenzy #a mere mortal #vampire au #vampire bucky #vampire loki #mcu au #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #vampire fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #reader insert #reblogs are love #feedback is appreciated #my writing #mostly marvel musings

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