Horny On Main

one look and they'll know

See my full list of works here!

Summary: You go to work on the set of Thor Ragnarok one day and you're greeted with the sight of one Tom Hiddleston on his knees and your coworkers whispering about how he perfected his posture.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warning/s: implied smut (there's like 2 paragraphs that talks about it), mentions of BDSM terms, talks about throat grabbing, cussing, and a potentially Domme!Reader that doesn't know her power [if i missed anything let me know!]

Working as a set designer on a movie set meant that every day could either be agonizingly monotonous, or no two days would ever be the same. There was this one TV episode you worked on where majority of the project took place in an interrogation room, so there was next to nothing for you to do besides making sure that continuity errors were minimized or even completely avoided.

This project…was not agonizingly monotonous. By some stroke of luck, you'd landed a gig as a set designer for Thor: Ragnarok, and now you were working on sets that would be walked on by the likes of Chris Hemsworth, Anthony Hopkins, and--fucking Christ on a crutch--Tom Hiddleston.

When you decided to leave your day job of weekly software patches and bug fixes and the ever droning minutiae of daily updates that really gave you nothing except migraines and a bad habit of stress-eating for a chance at a career in the entertainment industry, did you ever think it would lead you here? Absolutely not. Truthfully, you were content with the interrogation rooms, but this? This was a pipe dream.

"Ah. Morning, Y/N," you heard the moment you stepped on set from Taika, currently dressed in a skin-tight spandex gray CGI suit with a giant Korg head harnessed atop his shoulders. "We sourced enough sugar glass bottles for Tessa to throw in Tom's general direction today, yeah?" 

"Well I got five dozen so…we should be good," you shot back with a chuckle. You knew full well what the cast and crew got up to when sugar glass was involved. Mostly smashing it on each other's heads and making some great takes for the blooper reel.

"Awesome. I'll see you there." With a wave you started walking toward your fellow set designers, currently glancing and giggling at one of the Sakaar sets.

"Alright, what's got your panties wet this time?" you called out to your coworkers. 

Bryan, a lanky guy slightly taller than you motioned toward the set. "Look at Hiddlebum." 

"I'd really rather not, you know that I trip on air the second I even glance in his direction," you shot back. "I can't keep my dignity around that man, let alone my sanity. Don't tell me to look at him." 

"He's not gonna look back," Denise, a curvy redhead and one of your closer friends on set, commented in a sing song tone. "Trust me, boss, you're gonna wanna look." 

With a huff, you glanced toward the set and you could wear that your heart turned to solid lead and then jumped out of your chest and straight to the ground. Lord have mercy, you were not ready for the image of Tom in his dark blue-green leather getup, wrapped in gold chains, on his fucking knees, back perfectly straight, and head tilted down to the floor.

The sound that came out of your mouth did not sound ladylike. Hell, it didn't even sound human. 

"Do you think he's--?" Denise started.

"Ohh he definitely is, I mean look at that posture! You don't get there from looking up one picture, you get there from practice and meticulous correction. This man's a sub."

"Sorry, a what?" You were now officially, thoroughly, confused.

"Submissive," Bryan explained to you. "It's a whole thing that needs a 6-hour crash course and a 40+ slide Powerpoint presentation, but for your immediate knowledge, madam, it means he likes being ordered around in the bedroom." 

"So what? Like strip? Slowly? Walk over to me, come to momma type shit?” 

"I'm shocked how quickly you got the vibe, boss," Denise quipped. "Bry, what if she's a domme?"

"A what??" you nearly shrieked. "You think I'm the one who says 'strip slowly and sit down like a good boy and don't move a muscle while I ride you'?" You took a breath to calm yourself. "You're fucking insane, the lot of you."

"Again, you got the vibes, boss. The more you joke about it the more I'm convinced that it's in your DNA."

You let out a frustrated exhale. "Alright you two knuckleheads, look at me." Your voice dropped half an octave and became fuller as you said the last bit, using a tone you hadn't taken out ever since you resigned from the testosterone-laden world of software development. 

"Yes, goddess?" Your blood froze over as you heard the soft spoken words. There was no way it was…No. 

Right?

You looked at Bryan and Denise, both with matching expressions of wide-eyed scandalous amusement on their faces, as they shifted their gaze back and forth between you and Tom. Slowly you moved your gaze back to the set, your breath catching in your throat in an ugly inhuman sound as you saw the steel-blue eyes that haunted your filthiest, wettest, most vivid fantasies…staring straight at you. 

"I-I-I uhm…" you stammered, your voice returning to your normal tone, losing your footing despite being completely stationary. "I was talking to these knuckleheads, s-sorry Tom." You took a steadying breath. "As you were." You mentally smacked yourself as your 'programmer BossLady' voice came out again, your eyes widening in complete shock as he wordlessly followed your instructions and resumed to look down at the floor. 

"Confirmed," Bryan stage whispered to you and Denise. "He's a sub, and we've been silently submitting to Y/N all this time. I mean…Madam." You groaned at his words. 

"You two," you hissed at them. "Let me fucking tell you, I am the farthest thing from a madam. Or a goddess or whatever it was that he called me." You inwardly shuddered at the memory, although if you were being honest it wasn't from shock or disgust. It was from arousal. "My life is unbelievably, annoyingly, dreadfully…vanilla."

Denise giggled. "But you know the jargon? Uh huh. Sure, boss."

You rolled your eyes at her. "Bitch please, I read Fifty Shades. The smut. The toe-curling filth found in the wonder that is Kindle Unlimited. The fanfiction written about that fine-ass man on his knees over there," you whispered the last part in a hiss. "But I digress. The point is that my brain may be filthy, and it may be filled with very vivid fantasies of that very same man on his knees right now, but real life Y/N? Yeah. No."

"Maybe no man ever rose to the challenge," Bryan teased. "You think Hiddlebum would?" 

"That's not a direction my brain ever wants to go unless I'm already in bed, in my birthday suit, legs spread, with a toy in my hand," you shot back without missing a beat. "As for no man ever rising to the challenge?" You leaned in close to their ears. "I can't even get a guy to go down on me because every guy I ever dated or even just fucked said they never do it with anyone because it tastes weird. And don't get me started on the ones that practically bolt out of my hotel room naked when I ask them to put a hand on my throat."

"Maybe you're just talking to the wrong boys, Y/N." You turned around to see that Chris had joined your conversation with a smug look on his face. "You have to start talking to men. Perhaps then your luck will turn."

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop on conversations that don't have shit to do with you, Hemsy?" you shot back with an amused smile. You couldn't ever really be mad at the guy who resembled a walking talking 6'4 teddy bear. It was physically impossible. "Good morning."

"Good morning, indeed," he chuckled, turning his attention to the Sakaaran set. "Beautiful posture there, Tom! Absolutely exquisite," he hollered, causing the British man to let out several chuckles.

"Ehehehehe, sod off, Chris." He looked up from his position, most likely intending to glare at Chris, but instead his eyes met yours, and you felt this inexplicable pull towards him. No. Wait. Back up a bit. You felt as if there was this inexplicable force pulling him towards you. You tilted your head the slightest bit, as if questioning him and his tethering gaze, your eyes once again widening in total shock as he responded with turning his head towards the floor in a bow once again.

"Erm…what the fuck was that?" Chris asked, poking your shoulder repeatedly. "It's like you broke him, tiny terror." 

"Me?? Broke him??" you hissed as you turned around to glare at the towering Australian. "I'm the one who's fifty shades of fucking confused here!" 

"You may be, but I've never seen him fold for a woman like that in the entire time I've known him. With a tilt of your head, no less. No wonder your people call you 'madam'. Maybe I should call you that--"

"Don't even fucking think about it, Hemsworth." Your tone from earlier had returned, the one you tried to keep locked away since you gave your resignation letter to your final day job two years ago. A tone you'd once been confused as to why it could cause all those bravado-filled middle-aged men to fold and actually listen to you, well now you had an inkling. 

The tone was domineering. It allowed no room for counter-arguments; perhaps you were right about the words that you were uttering, but also perhaps you weren't, but your tone didn't demand their subservience, it just took. And while it worked in conference rooms and face offs with no less than senior management of the client companies you'd dealt with, never once did you think to use it in the bedroom.

You never realized it was an option.

"Where's Taika?" you asked after taking a few deep breaths to recenter your brain. This was gonna be one of those days, the type that you'd never forget even when you were an octogenarian and you'd  have trouble remembering if you've even eaten for the day. "I have to tell him we can't have the scene set up like this." 

"Why not, lil mayhem?" You turned and once again saw the ridiculous gray CGI spandex that Taika was decked out in, but thankfully now without the gigantic Korg head so at least you were no longer confused where you should be staring. 

"Because people are gonna take one look at him and they're gonna know," you explained, pointing towards the set at the kneeling Loki. 

The director looked at you, clearly confused. "Know what?" 

"Ohh this will be delicious," Denise all but moaned. "Watch this," she told Taika as she turned back to you. "Tell him to straighten his back." 

"This feels like I'm exploiting him somehow, you do it." 

"He's not gonna listen to me, I don't have the voice," she teased back, and then sighed. "The sooner you convince Taika, the sooner we can fix the scene." 

"Ugh, fine. Taika? Look at Tom." You took another breath, finding that voice once again in no time. "Straighten your back." Once again, your breath caught in your throat with a hideous sound as you watched him wordlessly follow your instructions. "That's what I mean," you addressed Taika once more. "People take one look at that scene, see his posture and--"

"Apologies, goddess." 

It felt like your spine had been replaced with pure ice as you watched Taika's jaw go slack, heard Chris choking on air in the background, and your two fellow set designers and friends start giggling once more as soon as the soft-spoken words were uttered from the mouth of one Thomas William Hiddleston.

"What did you call me??" 

"Ohh I think we know what he called you. Goddess," Taika taunted. "Right then, we need to get this man off his knees," he said, turning to the crew and giving them instructions to reset the scene.

"So what? We're gonna have him stand now?" one of the assistant producers sneered. "Way to take us out of the moment, Y/L/N. Fucking buzzkill," she muttered.

"I'm not telling you to make him stand, I'm just telling you to get him off his knees," you countered. "It's not my fault that your comprehension's lacking." 

The assistant started to make a motion towards you as if you bitch slap you, but the director stood in her way. "Don't even think about it. That's a one way ticket to Tom's shit list if you lay a hand on her," he threatened, and you watched as the AP looked over to the corner of the set with wide eyes. When you followed her gaze, your eyes widened as well at the sight of Tom with a borderline murderous look in his eyes. 

"Don't," he said simply. The AP backed off, muttering something about favoritism that you couldn't quite catch. 

"Alright then, lil mayhem, this is your idea. Run the show." You stared at Taika with incredulity. "You're the one who wants him off his knees? You get him off his knees. Call the shots."

You scrambled for ideas. "A chair?"

"Sorry, madam, we got nothing in props that could even look like it belongs in Sakaar. And I already know what you're gonna say, the Sakaaran standards are literally on the floor but still. A proper looking dining table chair will not fit the vibe." 

You glared at Bryan. "Then get me a cement block, a wooden platform. A fucking concrete slab. Anything, just get this man off his knees." You turned back to face Taika. "Legally, who can I yell at here without an HR violation?"

"Just those two." He pointed at your set designers. "You are their superior after all." 

You turned back to the dawdling set designers, staring at the scene laid out before them with amused looks on their faces. "Find me something." They kept staring. "NOW!!" They ran off to props like headless chickens, making both Chris and Taika break out in chuckles.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side, tiny terror," the giant Australian told you before proceeding to pat you on the head like a ferocious and yet annoyingly fluffy guard dog. "Hey Tom you can get off your knees now, you kinky little shit!" he hollered, chuckling. After a few moments he started again. "Ah, shit, Y/N be a dear? Seems he won't listen to anyone but you when he's like this." 

You groaned. "For fuck's sake," you murmured before taking another deep breath, slipping into your natural voice once more. "Stand up." The next moments felt like a sucker punch to your entire system as he once again followed your instructions, afterward stealing a glance at your direction with the softest look in his eyes and a sweet smile that left you completely breathless.

What was he up to? Why was he acting like this?

Fifteen minutes later, Bryan and Denise came rushing back in with a platform box painted a distressed teal setting it down on the ground near the now standing Tom.

The next 13 hours of the day were comparatively less eventful than the start of your day. Rearranging sets, reviewing shots for possible continuity errors that you were sure Twitter would crucify you all for if they caught wind of it, and the occasional bitchy stare down with that PA from earlier this morning who tried to smack you for daring to mock her comprehension skills.

"Let's call it for the day, everybody!" Taika hollered from his director chair, now thankfully wearing more normal clothes and not that spandex CGI suit. "I'll see you in twelve hours. Get some sleep, don't go out drinking because if you come to set tomorrow hung over I will have your head." Everyone murmured their assent as they moved about, wrapping up their tasks for the day, and he turned to you. "Lil mayhem, try to get some tonight. I'm saying this as a friend. You're wound up." 

"Honestly, T, it's just the whole 'she's a domme' thing from earlier. Really threw me in for a loop. I should be fine after some sleep," you reassured him, making sure to pick up a copy of tomorrow's call sheet to do some prep work before you eventually succumb to the sweet lonely embrace of solitary slumber in your hotel room. "Go, T. I can lock up tonight. FaceTime your kids, tell them you love them, read them a bedtime story. I'm sure they miss their dad." 

He took a few moments before giving you an exaggerated sigh and tossing you the keys. "You drive a hard bargain, Y/L/N." He walked over to you, ruffling your hair. "You're the best." 

"I know I know. Go. I'll do a quick sweep, make sure nobody gets locked in here for the night and we get here with someone banging on the door screaming 'let me out let me out'." You grabbed the clipboard containing a checklist of the areas you were to double check on before locking up and proceeded to glance over each area of the set. 

Just as you were wrapping up your check of the cast trailers, a voice in the relative darkness startled you. "Miss Y/L/N." You straightened your posture and started fumbling in your pocket for something, anything to defend yourself with. Then you remembered the keys, so you quickly started threading each key in between your fingers, when you felt two large hands gently grasp your shoulders. "Shh shh, it's alright. It's just me. You're safe."

You let out the heaving breath you were holding, recognizing the voice immediately. "Tom," you breathed out, the fear leaving your body, but the tension remaining. "Fucking hell I was about to stab you." You felt your spine go frigid as you felt him pressing tender kisses to the top of your head as his hand traveled down your arm to deftly remove the keys from between your fingers. 

"I didn't mean to startle you," he whispered into your hair, his hand once again traveling up your arm and resumed its place on your shoulder. "I simply wanted to ensure you were safe. I didn't see you come out of the studio." He moved his head to press a kiss to your temple. "I apologize, goddess."

There was that name again, stealing all the breath from your lungs and making you question so much about you. About him. But mostly it made you question…"Why do you keep calling me that?" 

His hand traveled up to lightly grasp your chin, urging you to turn your head and look up at him. "Because that's what I call you," he answered simply, bringing his face much closer to yours. Once he was close enough that you could feel his breath on your lips, he whispered, "When I dream of you." 

Instead of saying anything, you opted to bring your hand up to the back of his neck, threading your fingers through his short dark blond curls and gently pulling him down towards you, touching your lips to his briefly in a tentative, fleeting kiss. This led to him quickly turning you to face him, lifting you by the backs of your thighs, and backing you into the side of the nearest trailer. 

When he had you securely trapped between him and the trailer, he brought his hand up to cup your face, while the other roamed from your thigh and up the side of your body. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his thumb lightly graze the side of your breast. 

Just as he was about to lean in to kiss you, you breathed out, "Wait." He stopped immediately, his eyes quickly becoming apologetic. "I-I don't know…" you stammered, trying to find your words, but quickly realizing that the most honest words you had at the moment were, "I don't know how to be what you want. I don't know anything--" 

A smile of relief began to spread across his face. "It's alright." He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, as if to reassure you. "I simply want you, Y/N. As you are." A soft kiss to your cheek, then your jaw. "I want to make you happy." A kiss to the skin below your ear, before placing his hand lightly around your throat, sending a thrill throughout your entire body, and then whispering, "I want to satisfy you." 

"And what do you get out of this?" you breathed out. "Seems to me I'm the only one benefiting from this, that's not right." 

"Me? That's easy," he murmured against your skin as he rolled his hips into yours, causing you to let out an obscene moan that echoed through the dark empty halls of the studio. "I get you." 

This was an unusual morning. Unusual in the sense that this time, you were not woken up by the scandalous sound of your alarm, rather you'd awoken in this blissful, sated state. Your mind raced through the memories from last night, how you'd practically raced to your hotel room hand in hand with Tom after you'd locked up in the studio. 

The almost reverent way he stripped you of your clothing, pausing to press kisses to every new area of skin exposed to him, how he already had you a writhing mess before he even took off your panties. How he brought you and pushed you well past the point of complete ecstasy with his fingers and his mouth multiple times before he even made love to you.

Repeatedly.

You bit your lip as the memories came at you in vivid detail, pushing yourself off of your bed to get ready for the day ahead. Before you could even begin to inch yourself out of the bed, an arm tightened around your waist, pulling your naked body against a broad, toned, equally naked form. 

A smile found its way to your face with no effort at all as you placed your hand over the arm wrapped around you, your fingertips tracing the length of the forearm, causing him to stir and press his body even closer to yours. A hybrid between a giggle and a moan escaped your lips as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his hum of satisfaction vibrating throughout your body. 

He moved his kisses across your shoulder, pausing for a good few moments on the juncture of your shoulder and your neck before moving up to your ear and whispering in the most delicious sleep-laden voice, "Good morning, goddess." 

A/N: Please don't crucify me for the non-smutty implied smut, I am babie. But the idea refused to leave my head so I had to write it.

This insanity was based off of this post because I'm gonna be honest, my brain went places when I saw those pictures. AND THE GIF

Here's a bonus gif for those who read until the end:

Taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @stupidthoughtsinwriting

I Spy With My Little Eye

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x F!Reader

Summary: Joaquin got you a little present for when he's away on missions for a longer time.

A/N: This is based off a tiktok I saw about a husband bothering his wife with the Ebo Bot while he's deployed

"...Joaquin, what is this exactly?" you look at the device inside the box.

Your boyfriend looks at you excitedly, "It's a little robot that I can use to communicate with you while I'm away on missions."

You pull it out along with instructions, "Honey, this is sweet and all, but our phones work just fine."

"But our phones don't roll around looking all cute like!" You watch as he downloads the required app and sets up the bot. Soon enough, the round, white and black bot is rolling around your living room floor. Joaquin controls it from his phone.

"See!" He then taps his phone again, "And I can talk to you through it like this!"

Honestly, you still didn't see the purpose of the bot, but it made Joaquin happy and it provides another form of communication with him while he's away.

"It does look pretty cute," you say, giving him a soft smile, which makes his own smile grow wider.

__________________

You're in the kitchen cooking dinner for yourself when you hear the rolling of wheels, "What's cookin', good lookin'?"

You chuckle and look down at your feet. The ebo bot is angled up at you as your boyfriend speaks through it, "Making soup?" Joaquin asks as he notes the pot in front of you.

"Close. I'm cooking stew."

"All of that for you?"

You roll your eyes, "No. I'll eat what I can and then I'll freeze the rest to eat for another time. Or if you want to eat it when you come back, all you have to do is heat it back up."

"Oooohh smart."

"Everything going okay?" you ask as you go back to cooking.

"Yup. Probably will be back in a day or two....can you pick me up and put me on the counter?"

You snort, "Really? Why?"

"So I can get a better look at your beautiful face, obviously." You hear the grin in his voice.

You roll your eyes again but you oblige. For the past few missions, Joaquin has used the ebo bot to talk to you, mess around, and be a little nuisance. You could tell he was enjoying it way too much.

"I hope Sam never gives you your own Red Wing. I can't imagine the nonsense you'd pull with something more advance," you smirk at the bot that rolls around the counter beside you.

"I've already asked and he refuses to give me one."

You laugh, "As he should! You're a menace with this little thing," you gesture to the bot with the wooden spoon in your hand.

"I'm just making sure you're not lonely when I'm away!"

"Baby, I love you, but we both know you're the clingier one between us."

You laugh as the bot turns around and rolls towards a corner, appearing as if Joaquin is pouting.

"Take it back."

"No, because it's true! And I didn't say it was a bad thing, Joaco!"

"No, no, no. It's fine. Screw me for being super duper in love with my beautiful and amazing girlfriend." he proceeds to roll towards the edge of the counter and you stop him.

"You're so dramatic," you say with a smirk as you pick up the bot and raise it to eye level.

"But you love me."

"Yes, I do. Very much," you kiss the bot and set it back on the counter, "Were you going to watch me eat dinner?"

"Nah. I'll let you go. I need to work on reports or Sam will get on me again."

You snicker, "Alright," you set the bot onto the floor, "Love you. Bye!"

"Love you! Byyyyyeeeeee!" he elongates the word as rolls all the way back to the dock, causing you to laugh to yourself.

Rewrite Our Tale

Summary: I was playing around with this idea about Loki having a soulmate and her being lost to him because of his fate in the timelines and him seeing it all as the God of Stories. Canon divergent. Doesn’t follow canon at all.

Warnings: past in italics, angst, soulmate bonds, mentions of previous fate of loki’s character dy-ing

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

A.N: tbh I’m writing after a long time and I just wanted to put something on here cause I wanted to know what people think of this idea, I may continue it but for now this is like it

Masterlist

Silence. Deafening silence. Only broken by the tightening of a branch around its story. Then silence again. Sometimes he would forget to breathe, a God not needing anything. Breath, sustenance, what even were these mortal wants?

Aurora borealis surrounds him, the hues changing every few moments, seconds or minutes? He still hasn’t decided how time would move for his immortality.

He yearns, not for power no, that was a stupid goal. No matter how his destiny was written, he suffered.

Walking around the garden sowed around his version of Yggdrasil; the God reached the flowers his mother adored. Fingertips tracing the petals, softness wrapped around him.

There were other flowers he had planted.

Not using seidr but with his bare hands. There was something about these flowers, in a vision of his variants, this flower always was encased by his palms and then gently placed into the palms of another.

Her hands always hidden away, he knew soul bonds were a thing, markings that matched exactly.

He pauses, staring down at his hands, the torsion of branches had marked him. A pattern on his forearm. Starting between his thumb’s webspace snaking its way around his wrist and forearm ending at the elbow.

The life video Mobius had shown him did harbour her. His soulmate. How he met her during the battle of New York, commanding the Chitauri. A false ruler. A mere pawn in the larger game.

The building they first hijacked had her curled away in the corner. Frightened. Her eyes shifted as they met his iced blue. For a moment the noise, the screams seized to exist.

She watched his eyes return to their original green. Her hand held out, the marks that he grew up with, mimicked on her as well.

A gasp left him, he pulled her close. Flush against his chest.

“I’m sorry.” The first words he whispered, “It—, this is not who I am, you have to—,”

“You can right your wrongs.” She had cut him off, the soul bond creeping along their bones, stitching itself into their beings to bring them together.

The video continued to show his deception to his brother and father. A duplication casting spell done.

Loki had visited the universe, then. Curiosity had gotten the best of him. Wanting to know what it was to be accepted, despite being flawed.

He realised a few things, whatever his variant had disguised with his seidr to it worked on everyone but her. He had made sure she’d have the ability to see through his magick. So she could trust him. Know his intent behind the spell.

She’s a spellbinding woman he agreed. Carrying herself so elegantly. She worked from the house most days, going to volunteer at the animal shelter. Hair her form of expression it would tell him her mood or mindset.

A simple braid indicated tiredness, resulting in his duplicate to curl up with her.

An intricate french braid, she wanted her hair out of her face for baking or going to her gym.

Two tiny buns on her head, she was happy, it made her smile wherever she caught her reflection. It was his favourite.

Her beautiful locks open, worn natural? She was every bit the divine he would kneel for willingly.

Another visit more far off in time, when his death occurred.

It was during the formative phase of Thanos’ attack. She was there tucked behind several people. She was helping the Asgardians rehabilitate. While she was working in shelters and other spaces allowing her expertise.

The to be martyred Loki’s eyes were on her, she could feel his seidr around her. Tearful eyes blurring him and then clearing the memory that would haunt her.

“Close your eyes,” She weakly ordered the travellers. The parents covered the eyes of the children. Some even screwed their own eyes shut but Thor and her watched.

“No resurrections this time.” Thanos’ words were followed by five sounds.

A crack.

A shatter.

A thump.

Footsteps receding away.

A wail.

The wail parted Asgard’s remains. She saw Loki. Crumpled. Skin no longer vibrant.

Even if he was the God of Stories now that scene is what breaks him apart.

Her crying and pleading. Telling him he can stop pretending. That they were safe. He could return to her. Return to build their future. Together.

He wanted to alter the timeline but he knew he couldn’t, not with how this branch was supposed to take root.

“The mark’s gone .” One of the people whispered. Then more joined in. Even Thor’s heart broke because that was the sign your soulmate was dead and gone.

Thor wanted to offer comfort to the woman who he’d accepted as his younger sister in law. The way she brought out a facet of Loki he had hoped would shine earlier. He didn’t know what to say to the inconsolable woman.

The journey to earth would be painful.

Loki narrows his eyes at her forearm, he could still see the mark. So what was everyone on about?

The God of Stories pauses his hands tending to the flowers. He hadn’t visited that timeline in a long period of time that had elapsed.

Why could he still see the mark? Was this a common occurrence across all his deaths?

He dusted his hands off. Upon turning finding himself at the foot of his throne. A branch slithered towards him. Loki took it.

Every branch, each timeline. He could view the mark whereas everyone else couldn’t, he had to follow his soulmate.

Advancing through the time, he held his breath.

“Why can I still see it?” She traces the lines, “You’re out there aren’t you? You’re going to find me Loki.” Her hands move to whatever jewelled totem he had bestowed upon her.

Earrings, necklaces, bracelets. She held onto them and hope.

What the fuck had Kang done?

Was a variant of her supposed to escape into the TVA? If so why hadn’t Mobius said anything to him? It should have been similar to him. Did she not try hard enough to fight? Was her rebellion against the TVA pulverised each time? Was she lost?

For the first time since his coronation Loki feels sick to his bones. His soulmate was out there waiting for his return. Holding onto hope.

Each timeline had her, he needed to explore them all. He needed to know what became of her.

He needed to go back to see Kang.

Loki feels the branches wrap around his forearms. His sacrifice meant something. This control wouldn’t be relinquished. He had to know, he had to know her.

Protect her better.

Cherish her better.

He could conjure a second throne. They could rule together.

Selfishness ebbs at his selflessness.

Loki closes his green eyes, when he opens them. He’s back at Kang’s residence hours before Sylvie made the choice for them all.

“You’re early.” Kang tuts closing the hardbound book, turning to Loki. He hums.

Loki merely observes. It was better to allow Kang to reveal what he knew before using his own words.

“Ah, I see you’re late.” Kang smirks then, “What questions do you seek answers for, God of Stories? Have you come to ask why? Or is it something, or someone else?”

“You know what you have done.” The God perches himself on a chair.

“Yes; and look where that got you.” Kang gestures around and then to the vintage model of the milky way.

“I did not think you would play with soul bonds.” Loki comments drily.

“Just yours and maybe a few others, you were inevitable well some version of you. All this power why should you share it?” Kang resumes reading, “She has one triumphant variant as well, the way you have died and escaped, she shall too go through the same fate. However, you took over before it came into fruition.”

Fists clenched, the cuts from the branches reopening over his knucles, “You dare play games with a God?!” His voice bellows. Earlier grandeur colouring his nerves. The wounded ego aching to return with a vengeance.

“You lost her yourself, Loki. You must find her yourself. I had prepared it but you chose different. I do not control the crown that rests on your head. Tempting, however it may be.” The man chuckles, reopening the book. “Go on, there are no clues here. My death shall not be of aid either.”

Loki knew, no amount of torture, magick, time loops, and pleading with his own mind would be of aid. This was a riddle left for him to figure out.

The branches of time part, the portal softly moving the way leaves do in gentle winds. Loki stops himself, “Where was she to meet me?”

“Can’t trick a trickster, can I?” Kang sighs, “When she chooses a different path, the TVA would have brought her, you’d be the interrogator. Beyond that it would be you, her and your choices.”

Loki walks through the portal, the creaks of wood surround him. Wind whipping harshly at his cape.

He looks to her flowers as he ascends the throne.

shall I? SHALL. I.

we should all have this as our pfp on june 13th #thankschuck

💫 For Your Consideration - Act 1 💫

actor!Bucky x fem!actress!Reader (no use of y/n, l/n, reader is not described in any great detail. I save that for the gowns 💃)

Warnings: Hollywood AU, language, internet nasties, flirty!Bucky, a little power imbalance, age-gap (Bucky is around 40, actress reader is closer to 30 or younger if you prefer 🤭)... more to be added later.

Bucky Barnes, the suave and talented leading man of the 'Winter Soldier' movie series, finds himself on the red carpet circuit during awards season with his latest film 'The Howling Commandos'. But the season takes an unexpected turn when he crosses paths with a mesmerizing newcomer - the actress who has become the talk of Tinseltown with her captivating performance in her most recent film. Sparks fly as they navigate silly season in Hollywood, with a spotlight on their every move will their chemistry ignite a real life romance?

< Prev Act | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Next Act >

SEPTEMBER 2025

You hadn't known what to expect. 

Sure, you'd done your fair share of press nights, television awards, red carpets and ceremonies, even the occasional movie premiere where (inexplicably) minor b, c and d-listers were invited.

You'd rubbed shoulders with the winners of Love Island, or the quarter finalists of The Voice, wide eyed and looking at each other like you were equally surprised to have been invited to these things.

Toronto was at a whole other level. 

You’d miraculously been recognised in a public gym class at your hotel that morning, but other than that you’d been able to blend in like the millions of other tourists. 

The studio had ‘loaned’ you the same stylist who’d handled the small flurry of media activity when you’d first been cast in the movie. Becka had been in Toronto ahead of you and had slotted into the third pillar of moral support alongside Dani and Lulu. She’d already taken Lulu with her to track down a selection of outfits to last the week, while you and Dani had been picked up to attend an opening weekend welcome lunch. 

Faces of people you’d only ever seen on TV and the big screen breezed past you both while you stayed glued to the wall.

“You should say hello to someone,” Dani muttered into her mimosa.

“If I knew anyone…” you grimaced. You scanned the room again, hoping to see someone, anyone from your movie. “They sent me here to die,” you lamented with a frown.

“Ahh, none of that,” Dani chastised, taking your hand in her own soft palm. “Look at me, this is fine. You entertain strangers all day, every day. This is just an extension of that. Now breathe, smile, relax.” 

You did as she asked.

“God, your skin looks incredible,” you marvel, “only you could get off a ten hour flight looking like that.” 

“Come on, silly. Let’s at least have a walk around the room and look like we belong here.” She tucked her hand into the bend of your elbow, and nudged you along. “That’s Sam Wilson,” she whispered under her breath, “he’s Bucky Barnes’ agent, and that’s Joaquin Torres with him.”

You looked briefly as Wilson embraced Torres in a huge hug, both of them smiling widely. Distracted, you didn’t notice Dani slip ahead of you to avoid bumping into anyone, leaving you to walk straight into the next person to cross your path.

“Oh, shit,” you hissed, barely managing to keep hold of your glass. A warm hand with a tight grip held your elbow as the collision threatened to send you to the floor.

“You should watch where you’re walking,” a familiar voice chided. 

The gruff tone of the Winter Soldier star, Bucky Barnes, was surprisingly gentle despite the harshness of his words. He’d taken a step back out of your personal space, his eyes locked on your face as he waited for you to respond.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, aghast. “I’m really so sorry.”

You stumbled back another step, his hand leaving your elbow.

His eyes narrowed, studying you. 

He seemed more curious than annoyed at your embarrassment.

You, on the other hand, turned to retreat quickly with eyes like saucers. 

Behind you, Dani had traced her steps back to find you and on seeing Bucky, gave an unintentional squeak of surprise. She clapped one hand over her mouth, the other seeking out yours. 

Her gaze darted between you and Bucky. 

He gave her a cursory glance before his eyes slid back to you, taking in the flush on your cheeks and the tension in your shoulders. He wondered absently why he found himself unable to look away.

Dani tugged lightly on your hand.

“Please, excuse me,” you breathed, your voice far braver and stronger than you’d expected it to be.

He nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t reply, watching as Dani led you away through the throng of producers, agents and PR reps. Bucky found himself still watching the space you’d previously occupied, his usually stern expression slightly softer than normal.

“Ladies fallin’ at your feet again, old man?” Sam grinned, giving Bucky’s shoulder a gentle shake.

Bucky rolled his eyes and took a long sip of his drink.

“Shut it, Wilson,” he muttered. Sam laughed, clearly enjoying Bucky’s discomfort.

“Ah, come on, Barnes,” he teased. ”Can’t handle a couple of adoring fans? It comes with the territory, you know that.”

You’d caught the tail end of the comment before the surrounding noise had filled the air.

“Oh god,” you mumbled under your breath, glancing over your shoulder as Dani dragged you through the crowd. “I just collided with Bucky Barnes.”

Dani nodded sympathetically, her hand tightening around yours.

“Don’t worry babe, this is a big place. You probably won’t see him again.”

“You think?” You asked, your voice small and tight with the embarrassment of almost falling over in front of the hottest, most famous actor in the room.

“Sure,” she smiled, taking a glass of champagne from a passing tray and replacing your empty one with the full one. “Put it out of your head.”

You nodded.

“Right. No point worrying about it.” Your eyes darted around the room, half hoping to catch another glimpse of Bucky, half hoping to avoid any further encounters. 

It wasn’t long before you found your own group of castmates, producers and studio bodies, the memory of bumping into Bucky fading into the background. You were soon caught up in the whirlwind of conversations about upcoming projects, gossip and industry news. 

The afternoon slipped away, with Dani diligently whipping out her phone to note down the various commitments and events you were being invited to. Your schedule was becoming increasingly hectic, and the thought of everything the rest of the week had in store caused a riot of nerves in your stomach.

“You should run a side hustle as my glamorous assistant,” you teased.

“Hmm, the best organised hair stylist in the industry. Curling wand in one hand, calendar in the other.” She laughed, linking her arm through yours. 

“Thank you,” you kissed her cheek softly.

“The studio would get you an assistant, you know?”

“I think I prefer you, if you’re not too busy?”

“You’re the only one I’m here for, babe. Just make sure I have enough time to do your hair.”

You grinned at her, your heart swelling with affection.

“You’re the best. No one else is stealing you away.”

“You dragged me to Toronto,” she said as if it had been a hardship, “of course no one else is stealing me!”

Relief washed over you, having her and Lulu with you was grounding and comforting. 

You made your way towards the exit, ready for a reprieve from the hectic, whirlwind of an afternoon.

The cinema was dark, filled with a growing hum of anticipation. You’d dressed down today, in jeans and a sweater, the polar opposite of awards season glam. It was a relief to be an unknown, no one paid you any mind as you slunk down into your seat and took the popcorn box from Lulu. 

Your studio had given you tickets to the Howling Commandos premiere and panel and as the opening credits rolled, you noticed Bucky Barnes slip into the theatre and take a seat next to Yelena Belova on the front row, their heads bent as they whispered to each other. 

You tore your eyes away and concentrated on the movie.

It quickly pulled you in, the dialogue, the visuals, the acting. You could feel the tension radiating from the screen.

Two hours later, tears streaked your face, the film's emotional punches had hit just right. It had been more powerful than you anticipated and you couldn’t wait to hear from the director as the lights flicked back on.

The energy in the theatre was electric as Belova, Barnes and Torres made their way to the stage, guided by a local journalist acting as the moderator. 

You paid close attention.

You were used to a surface level of media scrutiny, the local paper outside the theatre after a show, but you had a feeling that nothing could prepare you for your own up and coming premiere.

The cast of the Howling Commandos were clearly comfortable in front of such a large audience, and played off the panel's questions with ease.

They were a joy to watch.

Insightful, witty… Belova heaped praise on her starring actors and they responded in kind. 

They left you in awe. 

You'd crept forwards, onto the edge of your seat. 

“And what are you guys looking forward to seeing over the next few days?” The moderator asked curiously. 

“The Stark documentary for me,” Joaquin Torres grinned. 

“Cabaret looks so fun.” Yelena added. 

“For me, it's Cabaret and also the new John Walker movie,” Bucky said with a smirk, the audience erupted into laughter at the mention of his box office rival and Winter Soldier co-star. 

“Musical fans, huh? Think we might see you in a musical one day?”

Bucky scoffed.

“God no, no one wants to hear me sing,” he laughed. The audience vehemently disagreed, as did Yelena. 

“She's gonna put you in one,” Torres laughed, slapping Bucky on the back.

“She can try!”

“I'm gonna write it next,” she teased. 

From far up in the auditorium, you could see the tops of Bucky’s ears pink. 

Next to you, Lulu's hand reached for yours, gripping tightly and leaving crescent moon shapes on your palm. 

“He's coming to see your movie tomorrow,” she hissed. 

“Of course he's not, he's just saying that to be polite. He probably can't even go and get a coffee without getting mobbed. How's he going to sit in a movie theatre?” You fobbed her off but her words lingered in your mind. 

The panel concluded its questions, and the auditorium burst into applause. 

The cast was shepherded out of the room, fans already gathering, eager to catch a glimpse of their favourite actors.

You slipped through the crowded space, trying to stay out of the way. Lulu was ahead of you, navigating her way out of the area, and Dani stayed right behind you. 

It was highly unlikely you’d be recognised here, but you'd already begun to notice an uptick in the number of people doing a double take when they saw you, from the girl in your gym class that morning, to the barista at the coffee shop at lunchtime.

You couldn't help but notice that the thin veil of anonymity you had enjoyed was quickly slipping away. With your own movie premiere just around the corner, you knew it was only a matter of time before your face was plastered everywhere.

“Sit still please,” Lulu breathed, her face millimeters from yours and pinched in concentration as she applied false lashes to your own.

You did as she asked and tried not to look past her at the outfit Becka was steaming. The first of three, one for morning interviews, one for the premiere and one for the party your studio was hosting that night. Next to Lulu, Dani unfurled her case of equipment.

“Hair up or down?” She asked, not you though, she was asking Becka.

Becka took a moment to examine the outfits.

“Can we do up today and have it down later tonight?”

“That’s fine, I can style it loosely so it’s easy to take down this evening.”

“It’s so exciting!” Lulu giggled. She finished the lashes and stood up straight, stretching her back.

“Scary exciting,” you corrected her. “My butterflies have got butterflies.”

She switched places with Dani who squeezed your shoulder before brushing through your hair.

“Just be yourself and have fun,” she chimed in. 

Easier said than done.

You embraced the interviews, your confidence growing with each publication. It was a relief to know you’d done all you could to support your movie and to give it the hype - and the premiere - you felt it deserved.

The girls had gone ahead of you to the theatre, leaving you to walk the red carpet alone.

Your co-stars took you under their wing. 

Despite it being your face (and ass) on the billboards, there were relatively few flashes from the photographers.

“They’ll regret sleeping on this moment, love,” your charming movie love interest, Steve Rogers told you warmly from a few steps further along the carpet. 

“Doesn’t bother me in the slightest,” you smiled, “I think I prefer them not caring who I am.”

“Spoken like a true star in the making,” he moved to your side and the photographers went into a frenzy, “they’ll be fighting for your attention soon enough.”

Steve offered you his arm and you took it gratefully, leaving the red carpet behind and heading into the theatre. 

It was a bigger auditorium than the one the previous night for the Howling Commandos movie, but yours was there on a much bigger budget and with a well known director attached.

You squeezed Steve's arm, slightly hesitant to follow him, but he pulled you along and into the room.

A cheer went up through the room at the sight of you both and you scanned the crowd for a glimpse of the girls as the lights began to fade. Just as you gave up hope of spotting them, you saw Dani’s hand fly into the air and wave. You blew her a quick kiss and sat down. 

You could hear the murmurs of anticipation in the darkness, rustles of people shifting in their seats and getting comfortable. 

This was the first time you would see the finished product - the final edit of the film you’d poured your soul into, upended your entire life for. 

You were nervous at seeing yourself on screen, but there was also a thread of excitement, making your heart race. 

This was the kind of life changing event that you, and others in your circumstances, had always talked about. 

And yes, it could all be over by this time tomorrow. 

The movie could flop, and you’d go back to being one of the nuns on the Sister Act tour, or one of the Mean Girls.

Your company would welcome you back with plenty of gin and hugs, and life would go on. 

But for this night, this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, you wanted to soak it all in.

As the film unravelled before you, you hardly recognised yourself on screen. 

The movie transported you, your memories of filming and rehearsals merging with the outcome you were now finally watching. 

An overwhelming sense of pride filled you.

When the screen went black and the credits rolled, the audience erupted into a deafening applause. 

It drowned out everything around you and you could barely hear the moderator call you to the stage for the panel.

As you lined up on the stage, the applause slowly died down. 

The host smiled warmly.

“Welcome, and congratulations! It seems like these guys are pretty happy with the movie!”

Cheers and shouts filled the room again. 

“Thank you so much!” Steve called out to the audience.

“We'll come to our leading lady first of all, huge experience for you, how's it feel?” She asked you excitedly.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the words to describe the mix of emotions coursing through you. It was hard to articulate something that was so difficult to explain, it all felt so alien to you. 

“Gosh, it's crazy!” You exclaimed happily. “I'm blown away by all the support - I can't thank you enough.”

The audience cheered in response to your heartfelt gratitude, the energy in the room sky high.

“Now, for those who don't know, you're an accomplished stage performer, how different was this to your usual?” The moderator asked.

You took a moment to consider the question. 

“It's definitely a different experience. Theater is live, it's raw and in the moment - no redos or do overs,” you explained, pausing for a breath.

“You say that, but is it true you sang each take live?” she queried. 

“Yeah, I didn't realise until a few takes in that I didn't have to belt it out every time,” you admitted sheepishly.

There was a murmurer of laughter through the audience. You laughed with them, your cheeks turning pink at the revelation.

“Oh, your poor voice! I can only guess how your throat must have felt after a few takes on those songs.” 

The questions progressed quickly through updating the original musical for a modern audience and the casting process before the host wrapped up with some more lighthearted queries. 

“Were there any other inspirations both you and the production team drew on aside from the movie and the stage show?” She asked. 

“Absolutely, for me in particular I watched a lot of Chicago, Sweet Charity, Burlesque… movies with incredible choreography and those instantly recognisable songs.”

“Well it certainly shows, the movie blends seamlessly into the modern era,” the host encouraged. 

“It does, I think it helps that it was already such a forward-thinking show to begin with. The themes really are timeless.” Steve added. 

“And finally, have you had a chance to see any of the movies being shopped around yet?”

“I'm seeing the Stark documentary tomorrow,” Steve offered.

“And I saw Howling Commandos yesterday,” you smiled. 

“How was it?”

“A masterpiece. I cried through the whole thing. The cast were incredible -”

“Bucky Barnes, right?” She interrupted and the audience in your theatre cheered loudly. You nodded in agreement. 

“He was… beautiful to watch. And so lucky to work with Yelena Belova, she's a visionary.”

The host thanked you and the rest of the cast, and the event security appeared from the wings, ready to prevent the audience from rushing down to the stage and mobbing the cast. 

From your vantage point, you could see Dani sitting about halfway back in the auditorium, waving enthusiastically. 

You caught her eye and waved back, the brightness of the auditorium lights now illuminating her features clearly. 

The man sitting directly in front of her seemed a little bewildered by your exchange, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and curiosity.

He appeared familiar, but the baseball cap he was wearing hid most of his face from your view. 

You found yourself squinting, trying to get a better look at him. 

The man's shoulders looked broad and toned, his frame solid. As you leaned slightly to the side to get a better angle, the man jerked his head up, noticing your curious gaze.

Bucky Barnes remained unphased and held your gaze for a moment without blinking, challenging you to make a scene by drawing attention to him. 

After what felt like an eternity, he winked, the corner of his mouth lifted into a sly smirk. 

You felt your cheeks heat up under the bright lights, and embarrassed, tore your eyes away from him, focusing your attention back on the studio PR rep who was outlining the plan for the short meet-and-greet sessions and the after-party event following the screening.

Your heart thundered in your chest, your mouth suddenly dry but your hands clammy.

It felt inevitable that you’d run into Bucky again - though hopefully figuratively rather than literally - the Hollywood press was in a frenzy, hyping up the impact that both movies would have on the upcoming awards season.

Anticipation coiled and twisted in your stomach at the thought of seeing him again, and the very real possibility of talking to him. You’d be lying if you said the notion didn’t exhilarate you.

hi, girly girl ♡♡♡

i’m re-reading your grumpy!bucky x sunshine!reader series (bc of course i am) and i was wondering, if you’re taking requests, what your thoughts are about:

💭 something happening to sunshine!reader, during a mission or something else, and she’s emotional (maybe hurt) and frantically asking for bucky. cue extra-protective!grumpy!bucky.

k love u bye

hi, babe :))

it started out as thoughts and I worked it into a lil something something

love you more <3

You came? You called.

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: The team’s brightest light shatters after a mission gone wrong, and only one person can put her back together.

Bucky Barnes :)

Word Count: Roughly 900 words 

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injuries mentioned (barely), mentions of blood, overprotective and soft Bucky, physical and emotional distress, a lil bit of angst (but just a pinch)

Author’s Note: I don't know where I was going with this, but I tried :(

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics

You’re not supposed to cry.

You're supposed to sparkle. 

You're supposed to laugh like you’ve never tasted bitterness, bounce off the walls like gravity never quite applied to you, and leave glitter bombs and rainbow cupcakes in your wake. 

You're the sunshine of the team, the chaos incarnate with fingers covered in icing from baking every other day, held together by too much energy and not enough fear.

But right now, you’re sobbing, shaking so hard it rattles your bones.

The safe house is too quiet. 

Too sterile. 

You hate the quiet.

Your world is made of giggles and explosions and yelling at Tony for calling you “a walking serotonin factory,” like it’s not the biggest compliment ever.

Steve’s kneeling next to you, his voice is soft, words calm and even, like a warm blanket. 

Nat’s crouched just behind him, her clothes smeared with blood that’s not hers. You know what that means. She already got them, the ones who hurt you.

But none of that matters.

You want him.

“Bucky,” you whisper softly, the name tumbling out between hiccups.

Steve tries to soothe you. “He’s coming, sunshine. He’s on his way.”

But that only makes it worse. It hurts, how badly you need him. The tight, aching space in your chest pulses with panic.

You try to push yourself off the couch even though your leg won't work right. The pain flares, sharp and hot, but not as bad as the panic clawing through your ribs. “I need him now. Please. I want Bucky.”

Your voice breaks, shatters into something raw and desperate.

Steve looks helpless. Even Captain America doesn’t know how to hold back the sun when it starts to implode.

Nat lays a hand on your shoulder. Her touch is light but firm. “He’s coming,” she says quietly. “He’s already ripping apart the walls to get to you.”

That sounds like him.

It helps, but not enough. 

The tears keep coming, stupid and hot, blurring everything. Your fingers grip the blanket around you, but it’s not what you want. 

You want metal and leather and the calloused hands that catch you midair when you launch off rooftops without a second thought. You want the gruff voice that mutters complaints when you bounce in front of him, bright and too close, but never pulls away.

You want Bucky.

And then he’s there.

Steve barely gets out of the way before Bucky’s next to you, metal hand cupping your cheek like you’re made of something too precious to break.

“There you are,” he breathes. “Sunshine, what did they do to you?”

Your hands reach out to grab him, clutching at his jacket, his shoulder, his neck, anything that’s him. 

You curl into him like a sunflower searching for sunlight, burying your face in his chest and gasping like you can’t breathe without him. 

He smells safe. 

Like home.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” you sob into him. “I was so scared. I thought…”

He’s already wrapping around you, his flesh hand holding the back of your head, metal arm tucking you into him, so close there’s no space between your body and his. “Shh. I’m here, baby. You’re safe now. I got you. Nobody’s touching you ever again.”

You nod, even as the tears soak through his shirt. His lips press to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. Like, if he kisses you enough, he can erase what happened.

“You’re late,” you whisper, your voice trembling and watery.

“I know, dollface,” he murmurs, his voice cracking at the edges. “I should’ve been faster.”

Steve clears his throat, somewhere behind you. “Maybe give her a second to breathe, Buck.”

“I am breathing,” you mutter into Bucky’s neck, your voice muffled but stubborn.

Bucky glares at Steve. “She wants me, she gets me. End of story.”

Nat smirks from the corner, arms crossed. “She was begging for you like the world was ending.”

“She’s my world,” Bucky shoots back without hesitation.

He tilts your chin up gently, and when your glassy eyes meet his, he winces. “Look at what they did to my baby,” he whispers. “Your face. Your leg...” He trails off, breathing hard, like he might go find the bastards and rip them apart again just for good measure.

“Nat already got them,” you say, sniffling, managing a tiny smile. “Bet she looked really cool doing it, too.”

“I wanted to be the one to end them,” he mutters darkly.

You tug on his sleeve. “You’re here now. That’s better, the best thing ever. Promise.”

He melts at that, just enough. His forehead presses to yours. “You scared me, you little menace.”

“I scare everyone,” you mumble, eyes drooping as the exhaustion catches up with you. “But you always come back.”

“Always, sunshine.” He kisses the tip of your nose, holding you like you’re breakable. “You’re my favorite chaos.”

You hum, smiling sleepily at him, and he has to look away so he doesn’t fold. “I like when you call me that.”

“I’d like it even more if you didn’t almost get yourself killed,” he mutters. “No more solo missions. No more running ahead without backup. No more playing bait.”

“But I’m good bait,” you protest, nuzzling into his chest.

“I don’t care. No more.” His voice is final. His grip is absolute. “You’re sticking with me.”

And maybe that sounds like a means of control to anyone else.

But you? You just smile.

Because you’re safe. 

Because he’s here.

Even the brightest light needs a shadow to guard it.

And Bucky Barnes is your favorite one.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @sailorsenshiuranep @alexxavicry @ficcharsimp @winchestert101 @thatesqcrush @bamitzzsam @grubler @peaches1958 @helen-2003 @ickearmn @Kimmie113080 @Xgbtmdmx @buckysbunnie @Shower-me-with-roses @pigeonmama @civilbucky @piinksdoll @desimarie12 @sleepysongbirdsings @barnesb420 @Suffereroflife @pigeonmama @yes-ilovetowrite @shadowstar1072 @serenaivy

Mission shenanigans 2

The aftermath of cuddling with Loki.

Wordcount: 2044

Pairing: Loki x f!reader

Warnings: reader is kind of in denial, Bucky "back in my days" Barnes, Sam and Bucky meddling, big brother Thor teasing, miscommunication

A/N: Oops my fingers slipped now there's drama?? All this from some cuddling? Sheeshhhh guess we're not done yet. See you in part 3? | divider credit: anitalenia

Mission shenanigans part 1

Your mind feels like it’s going a thousand miles per hour after sleeping cuddled up with Loki and getting caught by Bucky and Sam. It almost makes it seem like you should’ve opted to stay in your own damn bunk but it’s too late for regret now. 

It was a one time thing. It doesn’t matter. You and Loki have a complicated dynamic and you’re sure he’s not reading into things like you are right now – running through each and every past interaction with him, trying to piece together how this even happened and still coming up empty handed.

No. This is just some kind of mind game. He has some kind of motive. You bet he’ll throw this back in your face when he needs something. This is leverage. It has to be.

“You good?” Nat tilts her head at you from her seat as you’re grabbing a granola bar from the refresher/snack counter in the main area of the jet.

Bucky and Sam are at a table in the other corner with Bruce and Thor. They’re going over the new information that has come up about the mission during the night, but you don’t have to worry about that right this second. Since you’re paired up with the two of them, they’ll just fill you in later. Possibly before or after bringing up this morning's incident.

From what you’ve heard there’s gonna be a bunch of walking involved to even get to the bad guys’ hideout. Plenty of time to get caught up and for them to be their usual annoying selves.

“I’m fine,” You smile at Nat, trying to mask your overthinking. It always shows on your face all too well. The downside of wearing your heart on your sleeve – there will be questions.

“Morning!” Loki walks into the main area of the jet wearing a huge grin. If you didn’t know better you’d assume he got laid last night. But no. The two of you cuddled and now he looks like… that. Oh. Oh.

“Actually I have to pee!” You announce quickly, a little too loud, dropping the granola bar back onto the counter. Nat raises her eyebrow at you as you slip out of the room in a haste, unwilling to stick around to find out if you drew attention to yourself or to see Loki’s reaction to your outburst.

Yeah. Great way to play it cool. Way to go. And now you're out of a granola bar. You think as you groan to yourself, hiding in the hallway, leaning against the wall. 

And then Loki's there too. 

“You forgot your beloved oats,” He holds out the granola bar and the slight smirk on his face tells you, he definitely knows you left the main area because of him.

You snatch the bar from his hand. “I actually did have to pee,” You insist. Like hell you're admitting the truth to him. You're not even going to admit it to yourself.

“Oh, I'm sorry, were you planning to do that here? In the hallway?” 

You glare at him and walk to the bathroom. It's hard to believe you were cuddled up in bed with him a few minutes ago.

You shut yourself in the toilet and munch on your granola bar. As far as pathetic goes, this has to be it and this mission isn’t even close to over. How the hell are you going to deal with Loki for the remainder of it? 

–

Of course, the day only seems to get worse when you land and Sam announces he’s gonna hike with Loki and Thor, doing a piss poor job of keeping his plotting smile at bay. He was supposed to be with you and Bucky. 

You give him a glare but say nothing, however you will remember this. Nobody else seems to pick up on the strangeness of Sam switching groups at the last possible minute or if they do, they don't comment on it. The team then splits into three groups. Nat and Bruce head one way, the three amigos the other, while you’re now hiking through the overgrown forest with just Bucky as your companion. 

You swat at the mosquitos, making your way between the branches of trees and then finally find some semblance of a path where you don’t have to duck every two seconds. 

Bad guys sure do love to pick the worst hideouts. Why is it never something nice? Like a hot island where you could go for a dip.

“So… you and Loki…” Bucky breaks the silence, after you’ve been walking for a few minutes.

And there it is. You hope the ground will swallow you whole. “Bucky.” You warn. You don’t want this conversation to happen. At all.

“No, no, it’s just I thought you didn’t like him,” He raises his hands in defense, smiling. “Then again back in my day, they used to say those who fight, love each other. There’s a fine line between love and hate.”

“Oh my god,” You grumble and kick a rock as you walk, sending it tumbling in front of you.

“I mean what else am I supposed to think from the sight I witnessed this morning?”

“You better keep your mouth shut about it, Barnes. Did you already blab about it to the rest of the team? Oh god, I bet Sam did. Tell me he didn’t–” Bucky laughs at you as you freak out. “Stop it Buck! Tell me he didn’t!” You whine, looking at him pleadingly.

“Not while I was there,” Bucky reassures you. “But you know how he just loves to talk,” He teases.

“I hope I die on this mission,” You mutter, sulking.

“Dramatic much?” You can’t stand the amusement on his face. “Look it’s fine if you like him, I mean sure there was that whole New York business but–”

“Will you stop it?! I don’t like him like that! He offered to help me sleep!”

A snort half escapes Bucky. “Oh, is that what you kids call it these days?” He nudges you playfully.

“Just shut up and fill me in on the new info,” You roll your eyes. “And make sure we're heading in the right direction.”

“Yes, Captain,” He salutes you, grinning and you have to resist the urge to smack him.

– 

What you don’t know is that Loki is going through something similar as he, Thor and Sam move towards the location of the hideout.

“So you have the hots for little miss Captain,” Sam announces, grinning at Loki, who gives him a side glance.

“As far as I’m aware she does not like to be called that,” Loki replies evenly, he’s doing his best to mask his feelings. Involving other people would only complicate your already fragile dynamic.

“Nah, but Bucky agrees something about her just screams Steve, it's her facial expressions, man, you gotta watch out for that shit,” Sam muses. 

Loki scrunches his face from the comparison to Rogers. He does not have ‘the hots’ for a female version of Rogers, that would be absurd. No, you’re… you’re you. Painfully stubborn and you get impossibly mad when he teases you. And his attempts to get close to you have all failed, with the exception of last night. 

Sam throws his head back laughing “Oh, you’re down bad! You're thinking about her now!” and Loki is forced back into the present moment.

Thor looks to them in interest. “What is ‘down bad’?” He makes a show of doing air quotes as he narrowly avoids a branch hitting him in the face.

“It means your little brother here is in love with her,” Sam explains as he walks between them and clasps Thor’s shoulder. 

Thor contemplates for a moment. “He does act very odd around the little mortal,” He nods.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Sam exclaims, glad that Thor gets it. “And you know what else? Me and Bucky found them cuddled up in bed this morning!”

Thor looks at Loki, grinning. “Is that true, brother? Is the little mortal your lady now? Shall I notify mother?”

“It’s hardly any of your concern!” Loki snips, focusing on the path ahead. His skin is starting to crawl and he stretches his fingers, trying to keep his cool, but really all he wants to do is place a silencing enchantment on Sam. Thor too.

He retreats back into his mind once they start discussing something else and the teasing finally subsides.

–

Surprisingly, the mission goes smoothly. You capture the bad guys that haven’t left the hideout yet and make sure the place is completely clear. You already knew this wasn’t their main base anymore but there’s still data left around that you gather for evidence and intel on their other locations.

“Keep moving,” Smart Hulk grumbles as he leads the few guys in handcuffs out with Nat and Thor. You walk the other way. You’re doing one more building check with Bucky. It doesn’t seem like you missed anyone or anything. Then you run into Sam.

“Oh hey, hey! Check out this room,” He motions to an open door. 

Bucky shrugs when you look at him, seemingly just as confused as you are, so you walk into the room, expecting them to follow. You look around, there’s nothing out of the ordinary here. Just a bunch of tech stuff, computers on desks.

“Sam, I don’t get it,” And then the door slams shut. You spin around, now even more confused. “Guys?”

“What’s happening?” Loki asks from behind you and you jump. You turn and see him straightening behind one of the desks. He must’ve been crouched down before because you definitely didn’t notice him earlier.

It makes a lot more sense now why Sam fooled you into going into this room. It's because of Loki.

“Sam thinks he's funny,” You grit as you push on the door handle, when that doesn’t work you pound on the door. “Open it, Sam!” 

Nothing.

“Bucky, can you open the door?” You try, counting on him to give in quicker. You hear both of them laughing on the other side. “Seriously guys, this is childish!” 

“No, no, you two need to talk about your cuddling! If that’s even what happened!” Sam chimes from the other side.

Your face heats up. As soon as they open the door you’re gonna strangle them both. This is a nightmare. Loki clears his throat, drawing your attention to him. “You know, as much as it pains me to say it, he might be right…”

You shake your head at him, your eyes silently pleading him not to continue. His eyebrows pull together and something about this moment feels especially vulnerable. It’s in his expression and the way you feel like your heart is going to leap out of your chest. But you can’t possibly talk about this here, now, in the middle of a mission. You haven’t had enough time to think and you’re just not ready for this. 

His mouth opens and closes and then his expression hardens. Previous vulnerability gone, like it was never even there. “I understand,” He says, low. And you immediately feel regret. 

He walks to the door. “Gentlemen, you do still remember I possess magic, yes? And you remember the people that have crossed me, how they ended up?” He threatens, loud enough for them to hear and in no time the door opens. Loki slips out past them. 

“Loki–” You call after him but he doesn’t turn around, he’s set on getting away with quick strides. You glare at Sam and Bucky who are grimacing. “You just had to meddle!”

“It was his idea.” Bucky points at Sam.

“Was not!” Sam argues.

“Oh yeah? It was you who brought it up at the table this morning!” 

“Enough!” You yell, you’ve had it with them trying to push the blame when they share it. “You’ve just complicated things further! Stay out of my business!” You look between them as your blood boils. 

Regret and guilt seep into their features and they now look like children who’ve been scolded. Good. Maybe that’ll teach them a lesson about meddling in other people's affairs.

“We should- uh- we should get back,” Sam says awkwardly. 

“Let’s go,” You mutter.

more of my works

“Again?!” – Part 1

Tony Stark x Civilian!Reader

Synopsis: You spilled your drink on a stranger. Then you Googled him.

Warnings: [None I hope, pure fluff and kinda awkward situations] [foriegn reader you are not from the states in this <3] [fem reader]

w.c 1.8k

You’re gonna be late.

Not fashionably, not charmingly. Actually late.

You’d planned to be early. You needed to be early. Your first day at your first job since landing in the country—everything about it made your heart pound a little too fast. You’d practiced your introduction three times in the mirror this morning, brushed imaginary lint off your blazer until it pilled. You couldn’t afford to look like a mess. Not today. Not when you’re already nervous that every mistake you make will be noticed harder, judged faster, weighed heavier.

You don’t want to be the immigrant they talk about behind closed doors. You want to be invisible. Or better: impressive.

But no. Your subway stalled, your walking directions turned you in a circle, and now, to top it all off, your English is trying to abandon you under pressure.

You shove into the nearest café, praying the line is short. It’s not.

You order fast. “Matcha, cold, uh—ice. Please. Tall. I mean… medium?”

You’re not even sure what you just said, but the barista takes your card and you move to the pickup counter, clutching your phone with the directions still open. 9:12 a.m. You need to be in the building by 9:30. It's a ten-minute walk. You're cutting it close.

So when your name is called, you grab the cup too fast. Turn too sharply. And crash right into someone waiting behind you.

The drink goes flying.

The ice arcs like shrapnel. Matcha explodes across an expensive grey button-up, dripping down in streaks of soft green horror.

You freeze.

“Oh no,” you blurt, already lunging for napkins. “I didn’t—oh god, I didn’t see, I wasn’t—!”

The man takes a stunned step back, blinking down at himself. The drink has fully committed to soaking him. There's a single cube of ice clinging to his collarbone like a final insult.

You reach out helplessly with a napkin, then freeze halfway, not wanting to actually… touch him. Not now. Not like this.

“I’m sorry,” you say, too quickly. “I am late, I—first day, new job, I was not—my hand slipped, but I pay for shirt, I clean, please don’t—don’t be mad.”

Your words trip and tangle with your accent. You hate how it makes you sound so unsure.

To your shock, the man doesn’t yell. Doesn’t flinch. In fact, his mouth quirks upward like this is funny. Like this—you—are funny.

“Well,” he says, shaking out the front of his shirt like he does this sort of thing on the regular. “That’s one way to make a first impression.”

You flush. “Please don’t be angry. I don’t want to lose my job. I already… it’s already hard.”

His eyebrows tick upward. The grin softens.

“I’m not angry,” he says. “Trust me, I’ve had worse mornings.”

You frown. “You are… very calm.”

“Yeah, well. You look like you might actually cry,” he says, tilting his head. “Didn’t want to risk making you the one who ends up comforting me.”

You let out a helpless, mortified little noise and try to mop a bit of matcha off the counter. “This is so bad. I am so late now. I was trying to be professional.”

“Mm. How’s that going?”

You glare at him, but there’s no heat in it. “I will cry. Don’t test me.”

He laughs at that. It’s warm. Easy. The kind of laugh that makes you feel like you’ve already won something just by making it happen.

You glance at the barista, who’s biting her lip behind the counter, eyes darting between the two of you like she’s watching a scene from a romcom.

“Here,” she says finally, sliding a fresh matcha toward you. “No charge. And… maybe next time don’t drink and drive.”

“That is not funny,” you mutter, cheeks burning.

The man takes the extra napkins she offers and dabs at his shirt without much concern. You watch a splotch of green sink deeper into his lapel.

“I’ll live,” he says. “Though if I turn into the Hulk, I expect a formal apology.”

You furrow your brow. “That’s not how Hulk works.”

He pauses. Grins. “You’d be surprised how often I hear that.”

You don’t have time to ask what that means. Your phone buzzes in your hand: 9:17 a.m.

You curse under your breath and look up at him one last time, guilt gnawing at your stomach.

“I really am sorry,” you say again. “You were just… standing there. I wasn’t watching. It’s my fault.”

He shrugs, stuffing soggy napkins into a nearby trash bin. “You were in a rush. I get it. Maybe I should’ve worn green.”

You smile, despite yourself. “Thank you. For not yelling. Or suing.”

“Maybe I’ll save it for next time.”

“There will not be a next time.”

He just hums. Like he knows something you don’t.

And before you can ask his name—or offer yours—he waves a lazy hand and slips out the door, sunglasses already on, like this was all just another Tuesday.

You're left with your second drink, a ruined timeline, and a weird buzzing in your chest like the day just veered off script.

The second time you see him, your heart doesn’t race.

It stops.

You’re halfway out the same café—new drink clutched in hand, head down, feet steady—when someone steps aside to hold the door for you. You glance up.

It’s him.

No spilled drink this time. No crowd. Just him. Crisp charcoal suit, clean today. Casual expression. That same slightly lazy posture, like he has nowhere urgent to be despite the fact that he’s clearly the kind of man who always has somewhere important to be.

You freeze.

For a second, you consider backing away and pretending you forgot something. Or leaving the drink behind. Or vanishing.

But he speaks first.

“You made it to work alright, then?” he asks.

His voice is calm. Dry, but not mocking. Like it’s a question he genuinely wanted to ask, even if he didn’t expect to get the chance.

You nod once, too quickly. “Yes. I was… not too late.”

“That’s good,” he says. “Didn’t want to ruin your first day. That’d be a hell of a reputation to start with. ‘Green-shirt girl who cries and runs.’”

You don’t laugh. You barely even breathe. Not because you’re panicking—more because your body is trying to figure out what the right emotion is. Embarrassment? Suspicion? Wariness?

You settle on something closer to cautious politeness.

“I didn’t catch your name,” you say quietly, shifting your weight.

He reaches for his drink from the counter behind you, then glances back. “Tony.”

You nod. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he says. And that’s it. He gives you a small nod, steps aside, and lets you walk past him like you’re strangers again.

You exit the café like a normal person. Even wave a little, because you’re trying to seem polite. Calm. Unbothered.

It works—until you get halfway down the block, and the name Tony sticks in your head like a splinter.

Tony.

Something about it itches at your memory. Not the name itself. Him. His tone. His face. The way people had been glancing at him inside the café. That weird moment when the barista caught your eye and gave you a look—like how does she not know who that is.

You walk faster.

You wait until you’re inside the breakroom at your new job, alone, your paper cup sweating in your hands, and then you unlock your phone. Open a browser. Type just Tony —then delete it, realizing how stupid that is.

You try again.

Tony suit glasses goatee.

You scroll. Nothing.

You bite your lip.

Then finally, you try what you should’ve started with:

Tony New York.

You were expecting some lawyer. A CEO. Maybe an author. Something mild.

What you get is headlines. Dozens. Articles. Photos. Entire pages of search results that feel like someone just grabbed the edges of your reality and tugged.

"Tony Stark Re-Emerges at Stark Industries Gala""IRON MAN Makes Surprise Statement on Midtown Innovation Project""Billionaire, Philanthropist, Superhero—and Now, Bachelor Again?"

You scroll. Scroll again. Then stop.

There’s a picture.

It’s him.

It’s him.

Wearing a different suit, yes—but the same face, same smirk, same stupidly expensive sunglasses perched in his hair.

Your chest feels tight. Not like fear. More like… the ground moved, and now you’re not sure where your feet are.

You remember holding a crumpled napkin out to him like a child.

You remember telling him you didn’t want to lose your job. That it was already hard.

You remember offering to pay for his shirt which was probably worth more than your years worth salary.

You lock your phone and stare at the wall for a full sixty seconds.

You walked away from Tony Stark like he was just some annoying guy in your way.

You wonder if this is the kind of story people laugh about at parties—"this one time, some foreign girl dumped matcha on Tony Stark and didn’t even recognize him."

You wonder if he's told anyone yet.

And across town—

Tony is lying on a sleek leather couch, changed into a new shirt, and grinning like a man who just had a religious experience.

He has no idea what your name is. No way to find you. And that is, frankly, unacceptable.

“You should’ve seen her, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” he says, tossing a balled-up napkin into the trash across the room. “Didn’t know who I was. At all. Looked me dead in the face like I was just another guy.”

“Unthinkable,” the AI deadpans.

“And then the drink!” he says, raising his hands up up like it was a magical moment. “Most people notice me before running into me head on and making a mess.”

“She seemed… distressed.”

“She was honest,” Tony says, pointing. “You know how rare that is? No fawning. No social climbing. Just genuine gult. I haven’t seen that in years.”

“She did say she didn’t want to lose her job. Perhaps you should let her go.”

“Oh no. ” Tony leans back again, fingers steepled.

“What would you like me to do?”

Tony taps his temple. “Find her.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. hums in a way that sounds suspiciously like disapproval. “You don’t even know her name.”

“She bought a matcha. Around 9:15 a.m. from that coffee shop on 43rd. Cross-check her transaction with security footage. Filter for panicked young women with very good hair and poor aim.”

“You’re really doing this?”

“Listen,” he says, folding his hands over his stomach. “You get doused in iced green sludge and walk away with a crush," He says the word mockingly childish "You ignore the universe. I’m not that guy.”

He doesn’t say it out loud, but he’s thinking it: She didn’t look at me like Iron Man. Or someone to suck up to. She looked at me like a mess...She was kinda right.. very right.

And he wants more of that.

To Be Continued…?

relinquish the crown: as long as i've known you pt2

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: Season 1, Episode 17 (finale); immediately after 'as long as i've known you pt1'

Summary: Your mother, Lady Sif, reacts to the news of your betrothal and the Allmother Frigga intervenes before she goes on a rampage to shed Loki's blood. Meanwhile, you and Loki have a conversation about your future

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning/s: themes of incest (he's adopted but still) [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: literally everyone except Halley & Narda is stressed out here; headaches headaches and more headaches

Feedback is greatly appreciated! Remember, likes are great but comments & reblogs are treasured.

Of the thousands of years that she'd lived, the Allmother Frigga rarely, if ever, made any choices that she deeply regretted. But as of late, there was one that constantly haunted her every thought. A spell that she'd performed without taking the proper time to consider the long-term consequences of that action.

The spell to lock your memories of Loki and the love, the romantic love, you held for him.

Had it not been for that forsaken spell, there would not be this pit in her stomach over how your spelled self would react to Loki's surrender. To his confession of his own love towards you, if he chose to disclose it. For she knew in her heart how you, the real you, would react to such news.

You would have been tripping over yourself to plan the wedding. To even announce the betrothal yourself.

Your grandmother had seen with her own eyes how you once loved Loki so much with your whole heart that it was a wonder he himself did not see it whenever he looked at you. But perhaps you were both so consumed by your need to mask the love you both deemed too scandalous to see the light of day that you couldn't even see what was right before your eyes all along.

No matter how much she wished to, it was her sworn duty from the Norns themselves that she not interfere with the journeys of two fated souls. That she aid in whatever they would wish and have faith that no matter the obstacle, the souls would find their way back to one another. If the thread that bonded them was strong enough.

And she had seen your souls' threads with her own eyes. A brilliant glowing crimson stronger than even the thread that bound Thor to Sif, or Fandral to Narda. And so she needed to hold faith that you would break this spell yourself. That you would eventually fall in love with him again despite the barriers that prevented your mind from knowing of the events surrounding the Autumnal Equinox. The events at the pinnacle of your affections for him.

Even as she saw you storming out of the war room with your face crestfallen and fighting back sobs, your thread still gleamed that brilliant crimson hue. Not so much as a flicker in its glow.

She did not feel the need to ask what had transpired. If she knew her son as well as she thought she did, then he had done exactly what was needed to pull you out of your predicament with the crown prince of Alfheim. By whatever means he deemed necessary.

Frigga only hoped that he had told you enough to understand his actions, and why his hand had been forced to take such a crucial life choice away from you. She'd known that for as long as you so much as knew about the concept of marriage, you'd always wished to marry for love, like the princesses in those Midgardian fairytales you adored so much growing up.

And once more she loathed her having to cast that spell upon your request. Had you not had your memories locked away in the dark unreachable constraints of your own mind, you would have known that you were marrying for love when the time would come that you would walk the aisle with Loki waiting for you at the altar.

Perhaps through the events of your betrothal you would finally come to fall in love with him again. At your own pace. But for now, she could only keep the faith that these actions from many moons ago could eventually be righted. And her vision of your life together with your fated, blissfully married and in love, was not too terribly far off into your future.

It wasn't long after the men dispersed from the war room that the queen had to intercept your mother Lady Sif from going on a murderous hunt for her brother-in-law. "Where is he?!" she bellowed, her booming voice echoing across the halls. Frigga stepped in front of her daughter-in-law in hopes of halting her. "Your Majesty, much as I love you like you were my own mother, I suggest you stay out of this, your lecherous son--"

"I know, I know what he's done, Daughter," the queen tried to speak calmly, holding her open hands out towards your mother. "And there are other factors at play here that you know not of…at least not yet. May we sit together and I could provide you some context before you go off on a quest to divest Loki of his body parts?"

Sif took a long, deep breath before answering. "He has hurt my daughter--"

"No," Frigga protested. "Hurting her is the last thing he wishes to do. Please, Lady Sif." She motioned down the hall, in the direction of her workroom. "I ask for an hour of your time, and if you are still convinced that my son has come from a lecherous, selfish place, then I will bring him to you myself."

She did not need an hour to relay to the warrior the events that led to the day you were carried in by Loki into her workroom, looking faint in his arms before you begged her to perform the ritual that landed you in this predicament. That once upon a time, not too long ago, you would have happily accepted his confession and disclosed to him that you returned his love.

"She loves him?" your mother asked incredulously. "And this love of hers burned so fiercely that she feared what she would do once he'd chosen to love another? Because of course her logic would decree that Loki's affections could never have been towards her."

"Precisely."

"Can this spell be broken?" Frigga nodded at her. "How?" Her voice cracked as she continued on. "My daughter found the exact type of love that Loki once talked of before he left on his near millennium-long assignment. The kind that makes one wish to move the Realms itself. And her fear of this kind of love led her to a decision so impulsive and frankly idiotic that it looks like something Thor would have done not too long ago." She looked at the queen with frantic eyes. "Why did you not stop her? Tell her that her love was not unreturned? You could have saved her so much strife."

Tears welled in Frigga's eyes as she explained. "It is both a blessing and a curse to be able to see one's thread. I can only be a guiding hand, but I cannot interfere with their choices. Much as I tried to guide her down a path that would have led to this marriage under more joyous circumstances, she seemed steadfast in her belief that he would find her affections abhorrent. She was quite stubborn the day she begged for me to perform the ritual. Reminded me of both her parents when not too long before she was born, they also required a bit of pushing into one another's arms."

"Yes, but Mother this is different," Sif insisted. "I never approached a magic wielder to rid myself of my feelings for Thor. This spell…it's hurting my daughter. I refuse to watch her helplessly, I must help somehow. You may have promised to the Norns that you will not interfere with her journey, but I have made no such promise."

"What would you do, then?" Frigga questioned her. "Telling her what she felt long before will not miraculously make her fall in love again. This spell can be broken, Daughter. But only by Y/N. In her current state, if she falls in love with him again, her memories will return. All we can do is guide her."

Your mother slumped in her seat. "He saved her," she said in a surprised scoff. "He saved her, and now she loathes him. Brilliant as my daughter might be most of the time, I need to say it. These actions of hers…were imbecilic."

"On that, Lady Sif, we can both agree."

"So what do we do now?"

"Guide her," she said once more. "With a gentle hand. If she feels we are pushing her to feel a certain way, she may write us off the way she's already done for her father and grandfather."

"Perhaps a day in the seas," Halley proposed, her fingers tapping away on her handheld device from Midgard. "We could procure a few bottles of champagne, play some salacious drinking games?"

She and Narda had been giddily planning away the events of what would be your bachelorette party, deciding that it would take place in Midgard so that lodging would be squared away by means of one of the properties that you owned. Now it was simply a matter of booking the festivities proper.

"Ooh, perhaps we could hire one of those deliciously attractive male dancers?" Narda perked up. "Is that not a staple for these sorts of getaways with one's bridal party?"

Your head began to pound more furiously at the very mention of a male dancer, so you shook your head at your bridesmaids. "Perhaps it's best not to tempt my impulses, my friends. We know not what the parameters of this Norns-forsaken betrothal is and considering the precarious conditions it already stands on, I would much rather not engage in a risky dance with fate," you told them with a sulking pout. "Though I wouldn't abandon the idea altogether, we do still have Narda's nuptials to plan someday soon."

The three of you broke out into giggles, the heaviness on your heart unburdening by the slightest as you made your way down the palace halls arm in arm. The jovial mood, however, was short-lived, as you made a turn to find Loki a few yards away from you.

"Ladies," he addressed your friends with a curt nod. "May I have a moment with the princess?"

"Oh--Of…of course, your highness," Narda spoke, both she and Halley letting go of your hands and starting to walk further down the hall to pass the god. "We shall speak with you later tonight? To continue planning?"

You nodded at them, a tight-lipped smile on your face. "I'll find you."

Only once they'd passed Loki did he speak. "I see you've already begun your plans?"

"They volunteered for the task," you said in a clipped tone. The pounding in your head became sharper, a part of you almost feeling guilt for speaking to him like this. When you winced he took a step toward you, leading you to sit on the bench.

When he took the seat next to you, it almost felt normal, as if nothing had just happened in the hours past and you'd fallen right back into your former routine. And you wanted nothing more than for that to be your reality. To forget about the betrothal…and his confession.

But it was far too late for feeble wishes now. "What do you want?" you asked him with a sigh.

"Odin informed me not long after you left that we are to partake in a public courtship."

Your face contorted into anguish at his words. Your migraine worsened, pulsing at all sides of your head now, and you buried your face in your hands, willing yourself not to break into a fresh round of sobs. Not here. Not around him. You refused to let him see how this turn of events has wrecked you so thoroughly.

He placed a hesitant hand on your back, trying to soothe you, but you flinched away from him upon contact. "Don't touch me," you murmured into your hands.

"I'm sorry, darling," he said softly, retreating his hand back.

"You lied to me," you said, your voice trembling as you straightened your posture to face him.

He simply shook his head at you, reaching over to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "You know in your heart that that isn't true, little Princess. I have only ever spoken the truth with you. Your perception was simply mismatched with my own."

"So this is my fault, then? That I didn't see your lechery?"

"No, sweet Y/N, never." You flinched away from him again when he moved to cup your face. "No one would ever fault you for choosing to view our time together before today with nothing but the purest of intentions, and neither should you. You had never any reason to believe they were anything but."

"Why?" you asked him, exasperated. "Why would you do this?"

"There was no other way."

"What, because of the duel--?"

"Because of Damien," he blurted out, his eyes brimming with desperation as he took your hands in his. "Because of his intentions. My love, you may think me a lech all you wish, but I could not bear it to have to witness him worm his way into your life and gain Odin's approval to force your hand into agreeing to marry that prince. He wished to take you away to Alfheim and relegate you into barely anything more than an incubator for his heirs.

"He would have stripped you of all your choices, made you barely more than a prisoner in his Realm. My claim to the throne was all I had to bargain with the Allfather to keep you here. I did not surrender for fear of losing the duel. I surrendered for you."

His new confession took all the air from your lungs. Your rage turned towards the visiting prince, for you knew that despite the pain of your memories with Loki being tainted, you still implicitly trusted him to tell you the truth. He would not fabricate such a story about Prince Damien simply to make himself look even a modicum more honorable.

The knowledge of the elven prince's dark intentions for you softened the blow of your new arrangement somewhat. But there was still the somber truth that you both had to face. "You need to know that I could…I could never return your affections, Loki. This will not be a marriage of love. For either of us."

He only gave you a somber smile. "We shall see what the future holds," he said, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth once he voiced his optimism. "But Y/N, I would be remiss if I didn't at least ask for you to try."

HIs words caused you to let out a sound between a scoff and a chuckle. "Loki, there is no trying to fall in love with someone. Either you are or you aren't. Where does one even begin to try?"

The god scooted closer to you on the bench, briefly licking his lips before his eyes met yours once more. "Perhaps we could begin by you not flinching away from me when I show you affection," he proposed, your heart beating frantically and pulsing at your throat as he begun to lean closer, your faces inches apart. "And then we can find our way from there."

He took your lack of moving away from him as a sign to move closer, and he softly pressed his lips to yours in a tentative kiss.

At least try, the faintest voice in the back of your mind spoke, and your eyes fluttered closed. But the moment your lips begun to move with his, kissing him back, you recoiled, standing abruptly from the bench and taking a number of steps back, putting as much distance as you could between your body and his.

"I can't," you said, holding your hand over your mouth as you continued to step back from him.

You turned and took large strides down the hall to return to your chambers, feeling as if your lips had been branded with that fleeting kiss.

"What is wrong with you?" you hissed into the empty room. "What in the Nine Realms could have possessed you to kiss him back? He is your father's brother, for fuck's sake."

And just like that, your head began to pound away once more.

A/N: Well well well we're finally here. Welcome to the Season 1 finale of 'relinquish the crown'! I'm still in the process of properly planning Season 2, but I can tell y'all right now…the second half of S2 is fucking jacked with plot. Meanwhile the first half is filled with pre-wedding shenanigans, an auction, and some regular scheduled ✨drama✨

Thank you to everyone that's been reading this story, and seeing everything that these two have gotten up to throughout the events of Season 1! I can't wait for y'all to see what they've got cooked up for Season 2 💖

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