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savvywords · 2 years ago

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Hi hun, can you do one one shot where reader writes erotic stories (no a fanfiction really) an Loki finds it (like she publish them on her blog). He doesn't say anything, but keep reading it, (he is in love with her) and one night he get so frustrated and have to go to her room, she has no idea, he trapped her between the door and him, and is all sexy (you know, sensual deep voice), and if you feel comfortable can be smut ♡

Narratives

One-Shot Masterlist

A/N: I really REALLY liked writing this one 😈. Thank you to the Nonny who requested it. I'm sorry this took a while to finish. I promise to get to all my requests soon.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Fluff and Smut. Dom!Loki, praise kink.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

The sound of your dulcet giggles carried itself across the room to where Loki was sitting. You and Natasha were sitting down, sharing a screen, and reading something entertaining.

You covered your mouth in a gasp as she giggled in her seat. “Natasha Romanoff, you naughty girl!” you exclaimed.

“Me?! Didn’t you just read that last paragraph, Mommy?” She fired back. The dark hue of your blush almost turned purple. “I can’t believe people are writing this about us?”

“What are you two going on about?” Loki asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. He strode over the short distance to where you two sat.

“Nothing!” you said as you stashed your tablet behind you, having been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

Loki waved his fingers and your tablet appeared in his hands. “Hey!” You stood up to grab it back, but Loki was already reading the explicit contraband. He held his hand out to your forehead, holding you back. Your arms flailing around trying your hardest against the god’s strength.

Loki only read a few lines before he realized what the two of you were reading. Natasha only laughed as she registered his expression. His eyes grew round and wide. His mouth opened to shock and awe.

He could only handle so much before he sat down on the sofa, right where you had been sitting. Loki held the tablet and scanned the filthy words on the screen. His eyes darted back and forth to you quickly – standing in front of him, fidgeting.

“What exactly am I reading?” Loki asked aloud.

“It’s fanfiction,” Nat said.

“Fan…fic…tion.” Loki annunciated each syllable to drive the point.

“Yes. Our fans have written little narratives of us in their heads and are sharing it with other fans.” Nat continued.

“And this -” Loki pointed to the words on your tablet. “Is the narrative that goes on in their heads?”

“Some are cute! There are romantic ones in there.” You corrected, slightly embarrassed.

“Oh! So you’ve read some of these, have you?” Loki teased. “So what’s this business about calling you, mommy?” He asked deviously as he leaned back into a comfortable position. You blushed darker. Nat just laughed at the situation.

You shuddered, hiding your face in your hands, “I am not explaining kinks to you, Loki. So help me God.”

“I’m right here, love, and I don’t think I’ll need help there.” He trailed off, still reading.

“Come on babes. You have to find it endearing somewhat?” Nat said to you.

“Oh, I totally do! It’s just…” You looked straight at Loki who was busy reading the story in his hand to notice your stare. “…nothing. Never mind.” You ended.

Later that night, Loki ended up finding the website you were on and started reading on his own. There were all manners of stories, from all different types of entertainment.

He centered on the stories around the team. There were scenarios for everybody. Even some for that android that the witch is betrothed to. I wonder if the rest of the team knows that these exist?

Loki narrowed his search. He found some dedicated blogs that wrote about you unreservedly. Some were romantic and light, as you said. Others were darker and wicked. Lewd images popped in his head as he continued reading scenarios involving you.

His hand involuntarily roamed in between his legs. Relieving himself to thoughts of you, written by strangers.

He was addicted.

Addicted to thoughts of you. To reading about you and the debased words written on the screen. He would visit the website almost every night. He would feel a sort of closeness to you that he savored. His imagination only fueled the interactions you had with each other during the day.

Loki came upon you cooking in the kitchen one time. Your headphones were on, dancing to the melody in your ears. He lingered for a while, watching you sway your hips, extending your chest out to a private show only Loki could see.

He pictured some of the more explicit stories he’s read, just by watching you dancing. He couldn’t wait till tonight to see what new stories he’d be able to read.

You turned around, surprised to find him watching you. You jumped slightly, then took your headphones off. “Loki, you scared me. How long have you been there?”

“Long enough.” He said with a smirk.

“Lunch will be ready soon.”

“I can’t wait. Thank you.”

The next night, a new story popped up on his feed. It was from an author he’d never read before. What caught his attention most was that it was about him.

Loki didn’t search for stories about him. He didn’t realize there would be any interest. He was curious about what a fanfiction story regarding himself would be like.

As he read through it, the situation started to become familiar. The reader was an Avenger working in the tower where most of the team resided. They were in the kitchen making dinner, and Loki happened upon them dancing to the music playing in the background. It was almost similar to what happened yesterday, with you.

~ Loki caged you in between his arms and the counter. You could feel his hard length press behind you through the thin fabric of your shorts.

“Loki! You scared me. How long…” your words were interrupted by the feel of his soft lips on your collar as he pulled your shirt down. His nose ran up the length of your neck, stealing your words, muddling your thoughts.

“Long enough for you?” he asked as you felt the rigidity of his aching cock. His hands roaming your body, pulling you flushed against him. “I can’t wait any longer…” ~

Loki didn’t know how to feel. Confused? Flattered?

Yes. Definitely flattered.

It was pleasing to think that someone out there liked him enough to write about him. That they liked him enough to write something so uninhibited; made it feel mischievous – taboo.

Reading the story again, he supposed it’s a very general occurrence. To come up on someone dancing in the kitchen. Then subsequently wanting to fuck them to Valhalla. Norns, he wanted to do that with you the other day too. He continued the rest of the story, impressed by the imagery and detail. But not thinking too much about it. So, he bookmarked the author as a favorite.

Days later, another instance of bizarre déjà vu occurred when Loki sat down on his bed and read a different story from the same author.

~ He looked tired and beat. His arms spread out on either side of him wanting to relax. You looked around to see that you were both alone in the jet.

You strode in between his legs and knelt down as your hands trailed down his strong chest towards his muscular thighs. His head straightened up as he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Just relax. Let me take care of you,” you whispered as you slowly untied his leather trousers, pulling his pants further down to give you access to his growing cock.

“Darling, we could get caught.” He said trying to stop you.

“That’s half the fun.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. You answered by giving him a strong lick at the tip of his cock. You could taste his sweet early offerings and it made him shudder in anticipation.

He grabbed your hair with one hand and pumped his dick with the other. “Open.” He commanded. And you complied.

You looked up into his darkened eyes and stuck your tongue out as an invitation. He sank his red-hot cock inside your mouth. Inch by aching inch.

He was growing impatient inside your tight lips. He grabbed you on either side of your head and bucked into you fully. His forceful attack made you gag. The sound turned him on even more as he continued to fuck your mouth senselessly. ~

Loki couldn’t believe what he was reading. His breathing got heavier and tighter. Wasn’t it just the other day that you both came back from a mission? He remembered sitting in one of the seats, taking a break from helping unload the cargo off the plane. His arms rested open on either side of him as his head leaned back onto the wall of the jet, hoping to get a little respite. Just like in the story. Then you came up to him and asked if he was ok.

“Go, Loki. I can handle the rest.” You offered.

“Are you sure?”

“Ya. You look really tired. Just relax.”

“Thank you, my dear. I owe you.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” You smirked as Loki got up to leave.

He remembered seeing something darken in your eyes. But he dismissed it, thinking he was just tired.

“No! It couldn’t be.” Loki said aloud. “Could it?” There was such detail in the story. The description of the jet. His sitting position on the seats. The account of his pants being tied on and not buttoned. How could anyone know that, unless…

Loki clicked on the author’s page. The first post to come up was a list of all their works. Loki only recognized the recent two, but apparently, they’ve been writing for a lot longer and for a lot more people than him.

There were stories about the Captain. Some were about Sgt. Barnes. There was even one about Agent Romanoff. The more recent ones were about him, however. He felt unprompted pride over that fact.

As he read through most of them, Loki noticed minute details in their portrayals. Specifics that no one should know unless they lived at The Tower. He decided to test this theory out.

It took a while, but he found you down at the boxing ring in the gym training. Perfect.

“Hello, darling,” Loki said coming up to you.

“Oh. Hey, Loki,” you responded.

“Can I join you?”

“Sure.” You accepted. Loki went to put on some punching mitts and got into the ring with you. You circled each other once. With precision and speed, you aimed for his temple, but Loki was quicker and had the mitt by his head to fend off your attack.

“You know, I’ve been reading that website. Ever since you presented it to me.” Loki started.

“I didn’t present anything to you. You took my tablet, remember?” You jabbed again, this time straight for his nose. He swatted away your assault and continued.

“I found some very concerning stories on there. By some mysterious writers.”

“I’m not surprised you found something you didn’t like. Do you not read the tags or the warnings?”

“Who said I didn’t like them? They were intriguing and playful. Some were just downright wicked.” Loki’s smile grew. “I quite like this one author I discovered, who writes about me.” Loki quickly tapped your head with his mitt. You gave him a surprised look and narrowed your eyes.

“Looking up stories about yourself? You’re so vain.” You teased.

“Oh, I didn’t look this up, my dear. It just showed up on my homepage. And imagine to my surprise when it was written about me. Naturally, I was curious. So, I read it. The detail and the imagery were very well put together.” He followed you with his eyes. He noted your quickened heartbeat, your flushed cheeks, and your uneven breathing.

“So what do you go there for if not to read about yourself?” you asked trying to distract him. You launched into a front jab.

“I was reading stories about you,” he confessed. His words rang in your head causing you to misstep. It registered too late and your frontal attack wavered at his declaration making you miss your target and stumble.

Loki caught you before you hit the mat. “Darling are you alright?” he turned you over to face him. His arms wrapped around your body securely. “Or maybe I should call you anonymousavenger48? I mean that is your name on the website, is it not?” His voice was low and deep. It tickled in your ear making you shiver and close your eyes.

“I – I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said flustered. His face was mere inches from yours. You could see his eyes dancing with mischief.

“That’s too bad. I guess I was wrong in my assumption.”

“You were reading stories about me?”

“Yes. I especially like the ones where they imagine us together. Such depravity.” Loki whispered. His breath fanned your face. You could almost feel his lips touch yours. “I have imagined us countless times using those stories.” His grip on you got tighter. His voice got deeper.

“You have?” you said barely audible.

“Mhmm.” Then Loki stood and righted you up. “Oh, well. I mean, I told myself that there was no way you would ever feel that way about me. And I guess I was right. But you know I had to see. I had to try.” Loki gave you a pat on the arm and strode out of the ring. “Thank you for the spar, darling.” He yelled out.

He left you wet and thirsty in the middle of the ring. You took off your gloves and threw them onto the mat, anger and spite rising within you. “So that’s how you want to fight? Then let’s fight.” You whispered to yourself.

Loki had to get out of there quickly. It took all his strength to not ravage you there on the floor and reenact some of the more decadent stories that plagued his mind. Your innocent eyes looking up at him. Your dark cherry lips inviting him closer. Gahh, I need to remedy this, quickly, he thought as he sought the privacy of his chambers.

The next couple of nights were some of the most excruciating and lust-filled nights either of you ever had. Your little bout in the gym had fueled countless stories for you to write about.

Endless notifications from your followers thanking you or sincerely wondering if you’re getting enough sleep from all the stories you seem to be writing and putting out.

In truth, you had a bunch of works cached on your laptop. You wrote whenever you had the time or were inspired to and just kept them stored in hopes to release them sporadically every few days.

But when Loki played you, you felt an undeniable urge to make him pay. Make him crave after you as desperately as he had left you. You thought of the sexiest most deprived things you’d ever wanted him to do to you and just typed it out on the screen.

If he was reading this, then let him squirm a little bit. Let him stew in that lust-filled haze and then you’d innocently come up to him and flirt to high-heavens thinking he wouldn’t do anything about it.

That was your first mistake. Thinking that you could go head-to-head with the god of mischief. Days and nights happen and not a single word from him. Not a whimper, a nod. Not even a secret glance was thrown your way. You were on the verge of giving up. You were only making yourself more desperate. Your promiscuous attempts at flirtation were only met with excuses and hasty retreats back into his own private quarters.

The second mistake was thinking he wouldn’t retaliate and do anything about it. The moment you had given up, the moment you thought it was safe, he attacked you with full force.

You were typing a field report on your laptop in the conference room. You didn’t notice him marching outside the glass windows of the room. Only when he slammed the door closed did you look up from your screen.

“Writing another one of your stories to torture me with?” Loki said pointing to you. You narrowed your eyes at him and were confused. The field report was hardly anything to be angry about…OH SHIT! Your eyes widened in alarm. “I know you’re the one writing those fictitious stories pet. Don’t deny it this time.”

“Okay then. I won’t” You said smugly. You stood up, leaning over the desk, resting your hands on the cool wood, challenging him. He turned on the switch for the electronic smart glass, making the glass panes of the conference room opaque and cloudy.

Loki circled you. One by one the window panes turned murky, following his footsteps. Each turn, each step, heightened the growing fear and excitement inside you.

You unconsciously backed yourself towards the exit, reaching for the knob. But Loki got to you quicker. He reached behind you and turned the lock, inexplicably trapping you inside with him.

“So you confess? That it was you who wrote those deviant words I’ve been reading every night?”

“Every night?” You whispered in shock. Loki had trapped you between him and the door. The coolness of the glass seeps through the fabric of your shirt. His knee separated your thighs as he intruded in your personal space.

“Do you really think that I would let you get away with it? That I don’t know what you were up to?”

“And what is it that I’m up to?” You let out moans as he continued to rub his muscular thighs against your aching clit. You turned your head, biting your lip.

“So responsive.” He said appreciatively as he ran his nose up your neck to nibble at the shell of your ear. You let out a whimper as he smiled into you diabolically. “Last chance to stop me, kitten.”

You didn’t want him to stop. You had wanted him from the moment you laid eyes on him. It’s what prompted you to start writing your stories. To put your dirty imaginations on paper. You grabbed his hard cock through the leathers of his pants and ran your hands up and down his bulging prick as your answer. He whimpered at the contact, then growled.

He turned you around quickly. Your back to his chest, and he pushed you up against the door. “This is for me. Do you understand, darling? This will be your punishment for making me obsess over you every night.” He nipped at your ear. When you had said nothing but whimpered, he tugged your hair back lightly. “Say it.”

“Yes,” you moaned. He tugged again. “Yes, sir.” You corrected.

“Good girl.” He reached in front of you and unbuttoned your jeans. He pulled them down quickly, along with your panties, as he worked on untying his own trousers.

He propped your delicious ass up slightly to give him better access and was pleasantly surprised that you were already dripping and waiting for him to enter.

“You’ve been waiting for me haven’t you?”

“Yes sir”

“How badly do you want my cock inside you.”

“Desperately, sir.” You whimpered. And without warning, Loki thrust inside your tight heat, making you both moan out loud.

He started bucking into you. Not waiting for you to adjust. Each hard thrust was angry and passionate. He pushed you further against the door, your back sliding flushed against his chest, hoping that no one passed by. Even with the smart glass on, people would still be able to see the outline of your body being pounded from behind.

“Loki…” you wept. “I’m cumming.” He wrapped his hand around your mouth and stuck two of his fingers inside your lips.

“Don’t you dare!” he said panting in your ear. “This is for me, remember kitten. Be a good girl and hold it. Now, suck!” he commanded. “Keep quiet. You don’t want anyone to see you like this, do you? All hot and pathetic for my cock.” Your eyes rolled back at his salacious words. You sucked on his two fingers and ran your tongue in between them.

Loki felt you tighten around him. He rutted into you quickly and severely. He couldn’t help it anymore.

He lost all control when he saw you on your laptop here in the conference room. You were typing away, no doubt, imagining more lewd thoughts about how he would take you.

He had to have you. He needed to feel you around his cock. Wrapping him, squeezing him, milking him for all he’s worth.

“Oh, fuck! Kitten, you feel so good.” He looked down and watched as his thick cock re-entered your glistening folds. “Unh…”

“Loki, please.” You begged around his fingers.

“No!” he said forcefully. “Be a good girl now and I promise I’ll make you scream my name over and over again tonight,” he vowed. You continued to suck on his fingers, trying to distract yourself from the growing sensation on your clenched pussy.

He moaned in your ear. He grunted and praised. The echo of his undoing rang in your ears. And you swore you would never forget the sound. The sound of him finding his release inside you. His pleasure.

When he grew still, he took his fingers out of your mouth, and you sucked on them slowly, biting the pads as they passed your teeth.

He dismounted you quickly, placing his forehead on the crook of your shoulder. “You’re amazing, darling. Thank you.” He said as he kissed your neck. You tried rubbing your legs together, creating friction in between your thighs.

Loki spanked you, a sharp slap that reverberated across the room. He bent down to pick up your panties and jeans then placed them up over your now-red ass. “Good girls do as they’re told. Don’t come until I tell you to.” He reached around to your front and buttoned you up securely in your jeans.

“Yes, sir.” You said meekly, out of breath, as you watched him stuff himself back inside his trousers.

He unlocked the door and opened it. Before he left, he gave you a devastating kiss on your lips. “Tonight, after our private dinner, I was thinking we could reenact one of my favorite stories of yours. Would you like that kitten?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” He said placing a stray hair of yours behind your ear. Then he left, switching the smart glass off. You felt exposed as the windows cleared up giving you a full view of the common room outside.

You took deep, slow breaths as you tried to center yourself and process what just happened. You quickly went to your laptop, shutting down the field report to start writing a new story.

Taglist: @lokiprompts @lokiprompts21 @lokisninerealms @lokisgoodgirl @alexs1200 @a-witch-with-words @britishserpent @huntress-artemiss @mischief2sarawr @user13cabs @one-oblivious-nerd

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savvywords · 2 years ago

Text

poet laureate

part 1 - [prof bucky barnes x fem!reader]

summary: bucky spent one fateful night with someone he shouldn't have. the guilt drove him to resign from his teaching position. a hasty choice may have been his best mistake.

warnings: discussion of grief/loss. smut in future parts. slowish burn.

a/n: this prompt idea originally came from @thornsnvultures: "I'd love a college au Bucky. English Lit professor!Bucky who loves to teach Tolkien, maybe? 🤔" I hope you enjoy! this will likely be about three parts. all poetry is my own.

series masterlist

– – – – –

Resigning was easy.

Telling her was herculean. How do you tell a woman she’s the reason you quit your job?

Nobody knew about them. They didn’t go out on dates, or steal longing glances at one another in the dim light of the overhead projector, while some freshman stumbled over Hamlet’s soliloquy.

It happened once, a month prior.

One fleeting evening, in a distant city–a footnote on the Summer break, below a citation for an unusually cool August, and the number of students projected to be out with Mononucleosis. But it consumed him.

Nothing occurred between them until her fellowship presentation at a writer’s symposium in Massachusetts, on the brink of the new semester. He wasn’t sure why he went–except she was his best student, his mentee, and she invited him (with a handwritten letter, no less). So he drove four hours to attend her presentation, and immersed himself in her work until he was drunk on her. And she was so exuberant in the afterglow of a standing-room-only exhibition, it was easy to accept her invitation to a dive bar in Amherst afterwards, and pretend like he wasn’t her Graduate Advisor.

She kissed him. Neither of them imbibed–Bucky because he planned to make the trip back to New York that night, and her because she wanted to ‘experience every raw thing.’ Apparently, he qualified. If she wanted a man with a heart still on the vine, she couldn’t have chosen better. There were plenty of reasons why she shouldn’t have snuck him into her room, especially a student building.

But she did, and Bucky experienced something which put him in jeopardy: a thing with no name, something which rooted itself at the base of his spine and began climbing with fury. The moment she fell asleep, he yanked on his trousers and left. He drove back to New York shoeless, sober–ruined. It was unbearable to be without her skin against his; he viciously hungered with nothing to sate him, at his own peril.

The further away from her he got, the more he realized what a mistake it was to feel anything at all.

–

She wasn’t sure which hurt more: waking up alone, or walking into his classroom on the first day of class to find his TA had taken over ‘for the semester’, after spending forty-five minutes hyping herself up to face him again. The interim instructor handed out essays which had been intended as a pre-semester litmus for the class’ overall skill, submitted in the last week before the school year began; Professor Barnes had allegedly graded the papers, but hers had no such notation until the last page. The blue ink there was barely legible. If the first nine words hadn’t been her own, plucked straight out of a poem from her fellowship, she might not have known them at all, but the more she read, the clearer they became:

‘you will do better the less you have of me’ How wise the author. How true of you. I couldn’t bring myself to read this essay. This was a trite assignment compared to the kind of work you showed in your presentation. I have no doubt you served the subject admirably. Your grade will reflect as much. What I did was unfair to you, unethical to my position, and cruel to myself. I’ve resigned. JB

She experienced a hollowing as his fingers reached through the deeply scrawled words, into her chest. A snapped rib would be a comfort by comparison. She froze, staring at the personal note, while memories of him from one beautiful night filtered in. Every one was sallow under scrutiny: His soft kiss, a warning. His bashful smirk, a mask. His socks, forgotten under her bed–the only proof he had been there at all, except for a purple bruise above her left breast, and the scent of his cedar cologne on her pillow.

More than anything, she wished she had woken up when he slipped out of bed, so she could tell him what beauty she saw in him, and thank him for sharing a piece of himself she was sure he rarely showed, if ever. Or that he had the courage to face her in class, share an awkward look, and move on.

His note read like a challenge. Not that he intended it as such. He seemed to be saying I don’t deserve a single thing, and I'll ruin you. Maybe she wanted to be ruined for other men, like the types which clogged academia, with their egos one ducked to avoid. Perhaps the best thing to happen to a woman who made sense of the world through poetry was a man for whom words were a commodity.

She always thought her crush unrequited. She had invited him to her symposium on a brave wine-induced whim, expecting he’d see the Amherst address and beg out. Professor Barnes was the kind of instructor one changed their major for the privilege of studying with. He never minced words, he didn’t deify dead white scribes, and most of the time, he had thoughtful critique–which was as useful as it was cutting. He cared enough about her work to dislike some of it, let alone read it. She became addicted to his feedback, and the twinkle in his blue eyes when some inspiration sparked.

Professor Barnes was handsome, to be sure, but he didn’t wear the designation like a medal. Most of the time, he seemed to have misplaced his razor, he couldn’t keep his hair contained in a tie (draping as it did over his forehead), and he wore long sleeves even in the height of Summer, with the cuffs rucked up to his elbows. His concern was always with his students’ success, not his appearance. It was hard not to adore someone for whom teaching wasn’t his gateway into the arms of popularity or politics.

The only arms he fell into were hers, and he didn’t think himself worthy of that.

She kicked herself for not thinking about how something as simple as asking him for a drink could put him in an ethical conundrum. If the Dean found out he slept with a student, even someone only a few years his junior, he could be fired in disgrace. No wonder he resigned.

She slumped down in her chair. What had she done?

–

He stared at the envelope–well, the corner, anyway, which bore her name. Alpine’s snowy puff of a belly obscured the rest of the words. Bucky’s curiosity got the best of him, and he liberated the letter. The cat made a sullen mewl. He scratched her chin.

He’d wallowed for two days in his dark apartment, so he winced as he turned on the side table lamp. The envelope was postmarked in the East Village, but bore no return address. With one finger, Bucky broke open the seal.

A wave of lilac perfume filled his nostrils, pushing him deeper into the cushions of his sofa. He unfolded the paper within.

JB– Enclosed you’ll find several items which I hope you will do me the honor of reading. As you have deemed any of my non-poetic works ‘trite’ compared to those performed in my workshop, I have also included poems to pad the delivery. I hope this note finds you. I’d wish that it found you well, but you’d think I was being sarcastic. But all I want is for it to reach you, in whatever shape or form you’ve taken. Does that form still give critique? I have to submit three of these poems to complete my thesis by next Monday. You’re still the only person I trust. You’d do better, I think, with *more* of me. If you read the poem more closely, you’d remember the line directly following: ‘but I will waste and waste like something unheavenly’ I’m unheavenly, JB. Please write back. I don’t care if you have nothing to say. Mike will get it to me.

His heart lurched. Mike? The letter was unsigned. She did indeed send poems, eight in total. He read them. Three, four times. The more he perused them, the lighter he felt.

He chose his favorites, or at least his top five (not including the two he gave honorable mention), and wrote down his thoughts as quickly as his fingers could go under each poem, as he had in the run up to her fellowship, attempting to advise her all the way from New York–’it’s a vivid word but ‘aqueous’ drags, pick something which doesn’t take away from the cadence’--’you’ve got something here, I wonder how it would read if you broke at conjunctions’--’this isn’t hitting. I think it’s got something to do with the focus. It’s too outward. Point inward, you’ll be there.’

Something else in the envelope caught his eye: a business card for a whiskey bar called ‘Howlers’, which appeared to be a joint in Bed-Stuy, just fifteen minutes away on foot (according to his gps app). He flipped the card.

Ask for Mike.

–

The bar was dimly lit, but packed. Most of the crowd had a decade on Bucky, maybe more, and there were few places to perch next to the bar to draw the bartender’s eye–perch, but not sit; it must have been ladies’ night, because women in tight jeans and faux leather jackets shared stools, a cheek apiece on the wooden circles topping the seating (many of whom became acquainted because they pressed their hips together).

Bucky meandered through the crowd. The only person he could easily identify as working for Howlers was the bartender, so Bucky did his best to hug the far wall and sidle up next to the pick-up plane, where servers might have restocked trays of drinks, if there was a server to be had. The bartender gave him a nod, but took almost ten minutes to step away from a slew of customized martinis. By the time he approached Bucky, Bucky had gotten unwillingly dragged into a conversation with a pair of women celebrating a recent divorce, by virtue of being a man who they could ply with questions like why DO men leave their underwear on the floor? For Bucky’s part, all he could do was shrug. Bucky was fastidious at home–call it his Army conditioning, or the ever-present anxiety thrumming through his veins. He could not speak to such an epidemic.

“What can I getcha?” The bartender braced against the mahogany counter. “Please don’t say a martini.”

“No, uh–Mike?”

“You got ‘im.”

Bucky extended the envelope toward him. “I am supposed to give this to you.” The shell of his ears burned as he flushed.

Mike raised an eyebrow. “So. You’re the guy.” He didn’t take the envelope. In fact, he whistled at the divorcees beside Bucky, and pointed to a newly vacated hightop against the far wall. The women squealed and abandoned their stool. Mike gestured for Bucky to sit.

Bucky did, but every nerve in his body told him not to. If Mike hadn’t set a tumblr on a napkin in front of him, and poured two fingers of Bucky’s favorite scotch therein, he probably would have fled, envelope be damned. But he understood: find Mike, stay for a drink. Of course she couldn’t let him make the drop and run…

“Was she right?” Mike asked, pointing to the glass. “Fifteen year.”

Bucky sighed. “Yeah.”

Mike snorted. “She annoys the shitta me too, man, but it’s part of her charm.” He was flagged down by more patrons at the other side of the bar, so the bartender left Bucky to his drink.

A lock of hair escaped from his ponytail, which almost sent him over the edge. Bucky removed the tie and carded both hands through his too-long locks.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show.”

Bucky would know her voice if he heard it in the depths of a coma. He had memorized the vocalizations in the back of her throat when she disagreed with something in class, her tendency to emphasize adverbs like they had a sharp edge… and the softness with which she said the word you. He closed his eyes, wishing to be swallowed up by the floor.

“Are you okay?” She muttered the question at his elbow, with fingers curling into his sleeve. Bucky didn’t look at her. He took a swig of his drink and let it burn its way down his throat, without the tiniest wince.

“Guess I sorta get that.” She rubbed his forearm for a moment.

“You’re here,” he growled, because that was certainly the reason why he could in no way be described as ‘okay.’

“Not sure how else to talk to you, given that I don’t have your number and you aren’t responding to email. And as much as I enjoy snail mail correspondence, I’m much more of an instant gratification kinda girl.” She gave the envelope beneath his arm a tug until he lifted it.

Bucky cleared his throat. “I made notes. Going forward, if you need feedback, get with Wilson–”

“No.” She thumbed open the flap.

He slapped a palm over her fingers as they went for the note card. “Don’t read that, alright.”

“Why?” she tried to pull her hand free, but his grip tightened.

“It’s irrelevant.”

“Did you tell me to fuck off?” she scoffed.

“Does that sound like me?”

“I don’t know you, Barnes. I thought I did. But I also didn’t peg you as a coward.”

Bucky’s head snapped up in insult, but she had been forced to stand so near to him that her face was inches from his, and the sadness in her eyes hit him.

“That was harsh,” she said apologetically, but he shook his head.

“Apt, though.”

“Give me ten minutes, at least?” She didn’t wait for him to give his consent, but it was clear he was meant to follow.

Bucky threw a twenty on the bartop, along with his dignity, and he followed her out the front door. She waited at the curb. By the time he joined her, she was digging in her bag, with a cigarette balanced on her lip.

“Since when do you smoke?” he asked.

She smiled from one corner of her mouth, and lit her cigarette with a bright pink lighter. “You found the place okay.”

“The neon sign helped. How do you know Mike?”

“My cousin.”

“Ah, so. Not a guy friend.”

She laughed off the question. “There’s a park a few blocks west. You wanna walk?”

“Alright.”

They walked, dyssynchronous; she stepped in time with sleepy puffs from her cigarette, while Bucky caught his toes on raised concrete cracks from dragging his feet. She looped her hand through his elbow after a violent shiver, and they were in forced tandem. He told himself–I hate her lilac perfume–even as he held her wrist against his ribs. She grew tired of smoking but kept it upright like a pathetic candle. Waiting. He took it from her. He felt her gaze on his mouth as he took a hit, confirming what he had already suspected: this was his brand. He let the smoke escape slowly from between his teeth to punish her, but all she did was make a titter at the back of her throat.

“I only do it when I drink. But. That’s why.”

“I’m a bad influence.”

“Sure are.” She made a pinching motion with her fingers to ask for it back.

“What do you want, doll?” He flicked the stub into the gutter, where it hissed against the sludge from the first surprise snow of the Autumn.

“You’re not happy to see me?”

He glared at her out of the corner of his eye. “I think you know the answer already. I came down here because I’m a sucker.”

“Knew it.” She squeezed his arm. “I missed you too.”

It had only been a month since he had last seen her, but god–Bucky missed her with his entire being. From the moment he put his resignation letter in the hands of the Dean, the feeling intensified. The idea of not seeing her tortured him. Talking to her, having her cling to him–it was worse and better, and his heart raced, and he had never wanted to run more. So he covered her hand with his… because he was human, and it was okay to want someone you shouldn’t if nobody saw.

She chose a picnic table by a street light in the small park, and sat with her feet up on the bench. She patted the wood next to her, and Bucky followed suit.

The silence stretched. He stared at the basketball court, with its orange hoop rings dangling like they’d been swung from one too many times. The woman beside him leaned back on her hands.

“You left your socks,” she said simply.

“Didn’t even put my shoes back on. Drove home barefoot,” he said. “I don’t know how I didn’t wreck.”

She sighed. “You could’ve stayed, Barnes. James–god, that’s weird. I don’t think I’ve ever said your first name before.”

The corner of his mouth turns up. “‘S not what people usually call me.”

“Right,” she said. “Bucky, yeah? Wilson called you that during the faculty basketball game.”

“You went?” he scoffed. “I was lucky they didn’t make me play the whole time.”

“You’re really bad.” She laughed, and Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It wasn’t about skill.”

“Clearly.”

Bucky glanced at her. She smiled at him. Before he could think better of it, he brushed her cheek as if he might never get another opportunity. He blew out a slow breath as her skin filled his palm. She leaned into the touch, grasping his wrist.

“I’ve never, ever put myself in jeopardy like this,” he said. “Plenty of girls in my class have batted their eyelashes at me, but–” he shrugged. “Never felt anything except annoyance. And then… you. I’m screwed up about it, doll, you have every right to be pissed–”

“Slow down,” she said. She laced their fingers. “Let’s back up, I’m–I was angry, but I’m not anymore. I’m confused.”

Bucky gulped. “Um. I left, and I didn’t tell you.”

“Yeah.”

He clutched her hand against his knee. “I don’t do that kinda thing. Never. I mean, I’ve done it before but with women I dated, who were totally outside the campus community. They were short-lived–not even relationships. I…”

“You freaked.”

“Do you blame me?” Bucky groaned. “You’re in my class!”

“I didn’t plan it–”

“I’m not blaming you. For me to do that, with my own grad student, stone-cold sober. Thank god neither of us were drunk.”

She let out a long breath. “I didn’t think about it once.”

“No,” Bucky agreed.

“It doesn’t make it better, I realize. But for once in my life… I didn’t rationalize my way out of something that felt good. Kissing you didn’t bring me to my senses, either.”

“Hmm.”

“Was it… did you hate it–?”

“No. Far from it.”

“Then what?”

He couldn’t make the fear in his chest manifest into words, so he tapped the envelope which peeked out of her coat pocket and stood, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Despite the impulse to run, he remained at her feet. Waiting for her to see the declaration he wrote and rewrote a million times. She opened it.

She read it under her breath. Bucky held his. Every second which lapsed without her speaking was agonizing, but he dug his heels in. She deserved that much.

He didn’t hear her scoot off the table, so when her hands came up to cradle his face, he jumped.

“You are punishing me, too,” she whispered. “Maybe we should’ve thought about it. I own that. But why is the only option never speaking to or seeing me again? Huh?”

Bucky tugged out of her grasp. “Do you know what the university would do? You might be barred from defending your thesis, or have it blocked from publication, or get expelled–”

“Who am I going to tell?”

He threw his hands in the air. “Your friends! I don’t know!”

“Barnes–I don’t have a circle, here! My best friend lives in Alaska with her wife who works on a fishing boat, and my parents have never heard a detail about my personal life because the entire population of their neighborhood would know in an INSTANT. Unless YOU were planning on telling the Dean, I sure wasn’t!”

“What if photos of us pop up?”

“At my symposium? You’re my mentor–it makes sense for you to be there!” Her protests echoed off the cement court. “I didn’t invite anyone else!”

“You didn’t? There were a lot of people.”

“The whole city of Amherst shows up for this workshop, it’s a big deal! I didn’t know anybody but you and the other poetry fellows.”

“You kissed me.”

“In a cab!”

Bucky put his fists on his hips. “You snuck me into student housing.”

She poked him in the chest. “Seemed more appropriate than straddling you in the back of a taxi!” Bucky opened his mouth to say more but she clamped her hand over his mouth. “You didn’t resign a tenured teaching position to protect me, so why the hell did you do it?” When she pulled her hand away, she lingered toe-to-toe with him.

Bucky let his head fall back in frustration.

“I’m a shell, doll,” he started. “My ma passed away last year. Should’ve taken a sabbatical. But I pushed through to keep myself busy.” Bucky hazarded a glance at her. She said nothing, but motioned for him to continue.

“We were a real close family. My sisters are still devastated. If my father hadn’t gone a few summers ago, this would’ve sent him. I’m hollow, doll. Most days I can’t feel a thing.”

“Easier sometimes,” she murmured.

“No. God, it’s miserable. I get addicted to anything that makes me less numb.” Bucky fixed her with a glare. “Then… you asked me to be your advisor. All of a sudden, I looked forward to getting out of bed. Figured I was finally pushing through grief, or something. But I’d go home after meeting with you… empty. I didn’t put it together until you were asleep on my chest.”

She pressed her lips in a thin line. “You think you’re gonna forget her. If you’re happy again.”

Bucky looked away. “I already had, before she died. I never saw her. She lived five blocks from this park, doll, and I didn’t visit. I took it for granted that she would always be there when things slowed down for me.”

“So, when you took me on as an advisor…”

“Did it to fill up my free time. She asked me every time I saw her when I was gonna have the family I’ve always wanted, and I couldn’t stand to look her in the eye and say I wasn’t trying anymore. Doll–I hate teaching, but I stuck with it because she was so proud of me. She had my book on her bedside table.”

“So do I.” The woman clasped his elbow with a sad smile. “You still would’ve made her proud if you told her you wanted something else. Prouder, still, if you let someone in. Whether or not that someone is Me.”

Bucky’s arms floated upwards, and tentatively hovered at her waist. “With what? What do I have to offer right now?”

“I dunno–”

“Oh, great,” he scoffed.

“No! You’re so smart, but you’re an idiot.” She stood on her tip-toes to level her eyes with his. “You made me feel incredible. Did I return the favor?”

Bucky flushed. “...more than.”

“That’s enough. Doesn’t have to be complicated. You’re a human being–we go through shit times, and it doesn’t make us unworthy of something good.”

“Doll, I did resign because of you, but I didn’t do it to lash out at you. Or because I slept with you–even though it was the ethical thing to do.” Bucky sat with a heavy sigh. “I did it… because you’ve worked so hard. Your thesis work is stunning–those poems are no exception. I have never been as passionate about anything the way you are about words. You made me think there could be something like that, for me.”

“Wow,” she breathed. “When was the last time you did something for yourself?”

Bucky snorted. “Enlisted for Dad. Got out, went to grad school for Ma. Here I am.”

“I forgot you were in the Army.”

“Not something I advertise, doll.”

“No, but I’ve looked at the company photo in your office a million times,” she said. “How’d you get out?”

“Honorable discharge.”

“For?”

“Throwing myself on a grenade.”

“A habit of yours.” She let her head fall against his shoulder. Bucky remained stiff and upright, but he let a sense of warmth at the affectionate position fill him. He almost missed her next words because he was so focused on the sensation of her against his side.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she said.

“Why?” Bucky couldn’t prevent the question from slipping out. She turned her face so they were nose-to-nose.

“Because I love poetry, but it means nothing if the subject isn’t part of my life. Every poem I write, every goddamn word. They’re about you.”

The sentiment jump-started his heart. It had pumped once a day since his mother died–enough to keep his blood flowing. But with that admission, she renewed him. He scanned over her expression for any sign of hesitation.

“May I?” His breath tickled her lips.

She smoothed her hands over the front of his coat. “As much as I want you to, it’s late. I can’t be sure if this is exhaustion, or whiskey, or Bucky. I–” She stopped to touch his jaw. “I can’t kiss you and wake up to nothing, tomorrow. But in the light of day, if you still want to…” Her thumb worried his shallow dimple as she trailed off. Her eyes flicked back and forth, searching to make sure they were on the same page.

Bucky swallowed hard. “I understand.”

“You can give me your number.” She fished her cell phone out of her back pocket and unlocked it so he could type his number in. He did so, and when she presented her cheek… Bucky leaned down and brushed his mouth against her skin. She giggled when he dithered a hare’s breath from her lips.

“I’ll text you, so you have mine,” she said softly.

“I, um.” He swiped his thumb over his bottom lip. “I have to clean out my office this weekend.”

“...do you want help?”

He smiled. “Yeah.”

“I can move my schedule around. Make some time for you.” She nudged his arm, and then tucked the nearly-forgotten envelope into her pocket. “Call me?” She turned, swinging her bag over one shoulder.

“Hey, doll–”

She stopped, peering back at him.

“I didn’t say it at your symposium, but I’m proud of you.”

She straightened, and her mouth twisted like she was trying not to cry. “Thanks, Professor.”

Bucky watched her walk away in the direction of the nearest train station until she disappeared into the shadows. His phone vibrated in his pocket. A text from an unknown number.

I’m proud of you too.

Bucky stared at those five liberating words. He didn’t reply, but about two minutes later, another text arrived from the same number.

Howlers is hiring. Barback. 12/hr plus tips. Ask Mike.

–

She waited in the shadow of a tree at the end of a block, and watched his mouth turn up in a smile as he read her second message. Walking away after he asked to kiss her had been nearly impossible; the hairs on her body stood up, craving the deepest level of intimacy they had shared before, but if he wanted to make things right, he needed to do it for himself.

Still, it was something to hang her hope on. More than a cryptic note, or no words at all.

Her phone chimed.

BUCKY: thank you doll BUCKY: i really did miss you

–

you will do better the less you have of me

but I will waste and waste like something unheavenly.

what feeds you might bleed me but

mete out my punishment gently.

PART 2

– – – – –

thanks for reading and sharing! :)

tag list: @peterhollandkait @nahthanks @honeywithemoney @dracris33 @dracosluvbot @searchf0rtheskyline @emmabarnes

kate’s masterlist - my bucky barnes masterlist

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savvywords · 2 years ago

Text

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕

summary ─ an eye contact. dogs. sunset. cool drink offer. comfy bed.

pairing ─ rich!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ smut, +18, light dirty talk, pet names, kissing, making out, semi-public sex, summer fling, attraction at first sight (pun intended), slightly grumpy!bucky, and slightly sunshine!reader, bucky’s huge (a reminder), protected sex, bucky is a softie alright

a/n ─ hello!! i’m back with a new series (watch me abandon it lmao). i don’t have any memories of writing this so pls excuse all the mistakes. hope you like it! please leave a comment if you do! thank you <333

The sun was burning his skin for the past two hours as he laid beneath it, on the hot sand with only a thin towel separating them. His hair was down, fanned out on the small pillow he made out of his t-shirts. He had his sunglasses on a couple hours ago, but he ditched in order to get a proper tan on his face. His skin smelled vaguely of sunscreen, salty ocean water and something so unique to him. His muscled, long and thick legs were extended in front of him, his shorts coming down to only two fingers above his knees.

He felt peaceful laying under the sun like that.

Keep reading

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savvywords · 2 years ago

Text

darts and dates

bucky barnes x fem!reader themes: pining, lots of barnes-pining. for @flawssy227 who requested this song wordcount: 1.6k.

part of this challenge

You’ve had him on his knees since the moment you called him James. It was accompanied by a smile, one which dug deep, and left him thinking about it for hours.

Bucky would never have described himself as lonely, but the night he learnt your name. The night he witnessed that smile up close, it washed over him quicker than a storm's rainshower how much he'd been running from getting close to someone.

It drenched him, in fact. Made him realise so much, his brain not able to compute it all.

His pride, and the fact he didn't think himself worthy, is how he found himself there. Stood opposite his two supposed friends, a beer in his hand, when he'd been left without a teammate.

It had been him who had suggested darts.

Sam and Steve chose one another before he could even ask as if they had both known he’d suggest it. Their smirk is evident of it.

“Pick someone, Buck.”

And he did. He scanned the bar, and then scanned the area further than that. He really didn't want Peter, he most definitely didn't want Scott.

He’d been about to suggest he’d rather play alone.

And then you arrived. The new pretty girl from IT.

The one who Steve sang praises about, and Sam was always talking to. The pair of them waving you over, explaining how he ‘needed’ a partner, like he was desperate. Because he was being fussy.

They weren't true, but he didn’t argue. Instead, trying to think of all the ways he could kill them, grinding his teeth.

"I'll be your number-two, James."

His head spun, practically cracking as you rolled back and forth on your heels. A smile so sweet, so innocent, he could feel himself frowning.

And then your hand slid into his, not cowering as the metal grazed your skin or when it tightened as he shook it. He learnt your name, one eye narrowing as you grinned.

"By the way, I'm kinda awful," you whispered, moving ahead of him to go first, shooting him a grin over your shoulder.

And he felt his cheeks redden.

Heard his pulse increase.

He also knew his so-called friends were trying to stifle their laughter, but he paid them no mind. Because you were awful.

Worse than awful.

But, he didn't care. Even if usually he's competitive and a bit aggressive with it. It didn't matter, now with how sweet your laugh sounded. None of it mattered, even less so when he discovered the exact shade of your eyes when you looked at him, worried.

"I think we're going to lose," you whispered.

And he held your gaze, staring into your eyes as you looked worried.

"It doesn't matter," he reassured, meaning it too.

Three words he'd never say, not when it came to a friendly game or not. But, he was already gone. His head well, and truly over heels. So, he didn’t groan when the two of you lost.

Instead, he shook his friends hand when they won and headed to the bar. Collecting winners drinks—the worst of all drinks—trying to bury it all. Because even if once, a long time ago, he'd wanted a wedding band on his finger, and a bunch of children.

Life had been too cruel to him.

As it continued to be because you appeared beside him. Your smile large, paying before he could get his wallet free from his pocket.

“Least I can do, I was kinda awful.”

“No. No, you weren’t.”

He should have known it before then, before that exact moment when your head tilted. Because as soon as it began to happen, he felt himself lurch, felt himself return to the 40s when falling in love was so damn easy.

Turning his small, battered world upside down.

“You’re very sweet, James. But you’re a huge liar.”

“Buck… it’s Bucky.”

Then you smiled. Far greater than any other you’d shown all evening as your eyes narrowed with it. “Oh, I know.”

Momentarily frozen, watching you carry a handful of drinks back, leaving him alone. Leaving him transfixed. Leaving him… smiling.

He should have said more that night.

He’s kicked himself for it ever since.

Days, weeks and months ticked by.

He watched as people made you smile, ones handsome who said all the right things. Bucky instead chose to be a friend, someone you spent lunch with, a person you learnt to make coffee for before he even asked. He became someone who made sure you logged off, took a coat when you were going out, and an ear, listening to how awful all of the dates were.

Friendship, that’s what he told the others.

Even if he knew his face said more, even if he knew he felt more.

Because he knew he still needed to work on himself; Steve also having warned him, “She’s a good girl, Buck. Doesn’t need us complicating her life.”

And he knew it was true.

He'd always known it.

He knew you didn’t need someone flighty in your life, someone who’d be next to you one minute and away another. You needed assurance, and he knew he couldn’t always promise that. Even if others let you down, even if men hurt your feelings, made you cry to yourself in your office.

Even if he liked you, he liked you too much to be another pain, another reason for you to cry.

But, he was on his knees. He was tired of watching you smile at others, laugh with your hand on their shoulder; he’d begun to hate how their arm hung around your waist, your eyes rolling in jest. Because even if you stood next to them, he always found that your eyes found his across rooms, through glass walls and even in his dreams.

He needed a reason, some set of words strung together to tell him it couldn't work. It was in vain, it was impossible.

But they never came.

Not even when you had just walked over to him as he waited for Sam, your hand around a drink, the rest of the room celebrating. Your face coming close to his, voice dropping as you softly smiled and said:

"You worry me when you're gone, James. So, while the room celebrates another win, I'm raising my glass to you. Because... shit, I'm glad you're home."

His face falls, he feels it. Feels the noise around him bleed to nothing, the silence surrounding him as you walk off, a buzz in his ears. Even as Sam sits beside him, even as he spins his head to follow you walking away.

"You alright?"

Bucky clears his throat, forces a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

Sam frowns, it saying more than it should. But he can't, the list of reasons stacking up, even if the others aren't good enough. Even if they hurt you, even if they let you down.

Pushing away his drink, he rolls his lips, his throat dry even if he's downed most of the bottle. His body acts, making him stand from the stool, and he claps his hand on Sam’s back. Ignoring, as best as he could, his heart thumping in his throat.

"Go get her, Buck."

He’s let his worries feed into the narrative his brain constantly creates that he’s not good enough, not stable enough. Because he is. He’s free, his mind all his.

His stride so full of confidence as he acknowledges it, thankful you only look up as he gets closer to you. The person you’re talking to seemingly floating to the side, your mouth falling open in that adorable way you do when someone steals your thoughts.

He knows so many of your expressions. Your mannerisms. How you’ll slowly move to music, no matter the style; how you’ll smirk before smiling when someone says something overtly nice to you.

Because like him, you don’t always believe compliments are genuine. Some part of your brain trying to convince you that you’re not adored, that you’re not the best.

He wants to prove that wrong.

Bucky wants to take all of those doubts and crush them under his hand, because…

You’re it.

Everything.

While he doesn’t want to diminish you down to a prize, you are one. His gift from the universe for all that he’s been through.

A friend who struggled to sleep, brain too wired with ideas and solutions to rest; a friend who sneaks him sweets under the table during meetings. The first person his eyes meet when Scott says something outlandish, or the person he chooses to stand beside when you’re all huddled in one space.

Your mere presence calming him, blanketing any doubt. The person he goes to when he feels a thread come undone, a threat to an unravel. The only person he knows who can type so quickly on a keyboard, you’ve usually processed what’s been asked of you before the sentence has even been said.

Also so beautiful, he's not sure how he can look at you, as often as he does, and not implode.

Almost wanting to take a photo of you, right now, right here. Capture how your eyes are widening as he comes to a stop before you, your fingers shakily placing your drink down.

The corners of your lips twitch, before they spread into a smile which makes his heart soar.

Something you always do.

“James…”

He smiles, one as genuine as yours. “You fancy getting out of here... with me?”

He lets your eyes glance over his face, warming his face and ears; his cheeks burning, waiting, fingers twitching.

Say yes. Say yes, please darlin'.

And then you grin.

One so similar to the night he really met you, not just saw you across the new office.

“I'd love to,” you say.

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savvywords · 2 years ago

Note

Could I request something where Loki is used to the people clearing out of his way even though it bothers him since being on the team for some time? He stops in a store for a few items and most people either stare or just leave. He notices reader, she doesn’t flinch or shrink back. She actually approached him and asks if he could reach down an item for her. Which leads to some small talk between the two. He asks why she isn’t afraid like everyone else and she explains that she’d never be afraid of a good guy like him. She knows his whole story and she’s been a big fan since he joined the avengers. He offers to take her out on a date and they exchange info and really hit it off beautifully.

Sorry it took me a long time to get to this. Hope you enjoy 💚

Loki x Female reader Meet cute

Loki hated Midgard. It's been years since he has joined Avengers, he fought Ultron and helped them defeat Thanos but he was still a pariah for the people of midgard. If there was one thing they were able to do really well was hold grudges for a lifetime. But he couldn't really blame them, people lost their homes and loved ones in the war that he waged due to Thanos's influence on him.

He was at the store just buying some midgardian snacks he loved to munch on, his vault was also running out of the essentials he liked to keep in there. An elderly lady passed by him on the sweets aisle and gave him a dirty look. Then there were few teenagers playing that leaked footage of his menacing speech at the Stuttgart as they teased him and made fun of him.

"Kneeel kneel kneel motherfucker" a pimple ridden teenage boy screamed at him so Loki glared at him, if he was the same mischievous Loki he would definitely turn these kids into frogs but he has matured since then so he walked towards the other side of the aisle. Fortunately there was only one girl, standing on the opposite end and she seemed to mind her own business.

You looked at him and your heart was racing, he had a black jacket on along with black pants and even a dark green t-shirt underneath. You could smell his cologne even from the distance and he looked way hotter than he did on video or news. You were nervous, you wanted to go talk to him but you didn't want to disturb him.

You heard those pesky teenagers making fun of him, you wished people would just forgive him. If there was one thing you knew really well, it was that Loki was the one who suffered the most during these ordeals. You looked at him and his eyes met with yours, green as sea. Your heart fluttered and you looked away.

After a long time Loki finally was meeting a midgardian who didn't give him a death glare or ran towards the other way. He looked at you again and you already had your eyes on him so you instantly turned your head and squeezed your eyes. You focused your eyes on the top row and tried to pull the packet of the sweets down but you couldn't reach them. Then you heard the sound of his dress shoes clicking and took a deep breath. He was approaching you.

"Uhh I can get it for you if you want?" He asked you and you looked at him again. His deep voice, that accent made you tingle all over. You wanted to drown in those eyes, it was as if you had developed an instant crush on him. You have been a fan of him since he fought Ultron but that admiration was limited to respect. You have never thought about him in your bed before.

"Sure yes..thank you so much" you mumbled softly and he smiled. He didn't even have to get on his tip toes, he just raised his arm up and grabbed the packet of the snack. Tall as a glass.

"I didn't mean to stare earlier" Loki smiled as you said that. He was used to being glared at but not with such softness.

"It's completely fine dear" he smiled and your breath hitched.

"It's just you are really ho.. handsome" ohkay shutu now. He chuckled as you said that, he loved your honesty. He found you really adorable too, he loved your smile and those kind eyes.

"Thank you..so are you. I mean beautiful you are beautiful" he squeezed his eyes at the fumble and that relaxed you a little.

"I have been called handsome before"

You chuckled and he did the same. You just stood facing each other and looking into each other's eyes before you both snapped out of your thoughts.

"It's refreshing to meet someone who is not afraid of me" he mumbled and you smiled.

"Why would I be afraid of the man who protects us? I just wanted to tell you that I have been a huge fan and you ..you are a hero of mine. Thank you for everything you do for us mortals" he smiled genuinely after a long time. He wasn't used to hearing such things about himself. His eyes teared up at the kindness you showed him in that moment. He wanted to talk more and get to know you more.

"Thank you darling, that means a lot" a curl fell down on his forehead making him look like an angel, you knew you'd have to get out of there before you would embarrass yourself further.

"I should go" you smiled and he nodded

"I ..umm I don't think I asked for your name"

"It's y/n"

He put out his hand so you did the same and grabbed it to give it a shake. So small. Your hands felt so small in comparison to him.

"Y/n I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me tonight, that's only if you feel comfortable. Don't feel pressured at all" he spoke softly, you could feel the shakiness in his voice. He wanted to take you out on a date? You couldn't believe it.

"I ..yes.. of course, that would be my honour" I love you

"Alright, that's.. here's my number darling" he conjured a notepad in his hand along with a pen. Seeing his magic in person was surreal to say the least.

You both said your goodbye, you couldn't stop smiling and when you reached home you called him instantly. You both decided on a time and a place. He actually wanted to take you to your favourite restaurant so you'll be comfortable there.

To say that you had an amazing first date was an understatement. He was sweet, he treated you like a lady, so chivalrous and you didn't think that existed anymore, so so handsome. You noticed the looks people gave him, some people even left the restaurant.

"What are you looking at? Never seen two people on a date?" You asked the woman sitting on the adjacent table and she grabbed her purse to walk out of the restaurant. Loki smiled as you indirectly stood up for him and you could feel how uncomfortable it made him so you tried to keep his eyes on you as much as you could.

You knew his history and how he was tortured by Thanos to attack New York, world knew that as well but they still needed someone to put a blame on. You haven't been harmed by that attack so maybe it wasn't your place to judge people for judging him. But you didn't want anyone to hurt him anymore, he didn't deserve that.

On the way back home, you both felt nervous, there was a natural bond between you two but the nervousness that came with the first date lingered.

As you stood outside your building he held your hands in his.

"I really enjoyed the date, I would love to see you again sweetheart, I hope you feel the same" you had your heels on but you still had to get on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead. He placed his hands on the side of your waist and pulled you closer to him, you gulped as you looked at his soft lips and he had his eyes on yours.

"May I?" He asked you politely so you wrapped your hands around his neck and kissed him softly. His taste intoxicated you and that was it, that's when you knew that you'd want to do this again and again.

He felt soothed, the kiss felt electric, he hadn't been touched and held so tenderly in such a long time. People of Asgard despised him and people of midgard hated him. Women did get with him for one night stands but they never could even think about their future with him. As your lips moved in unison, he really felt okay after a long time.

When you both pulled away your lips were swollen and plump.

"Ummm I'll see you tomorrow?" You asked him and he nodded. You smiled and stepped away from him to get inside your building, as much as it killed you to do that.

"Thank you darling, I can't wait to see you again, you're still standing in front of me and I miss you already" your face flushed as he said that.

"I feel the same Loki. I will see you soon I promise " you turned around to leave but then you looked at him.

"By the way if you asked me to, I would definitely kneel for you without a thought"

You ran inside the building after that, leaving his face flushed with a crimson hue and his heart pumping in his chest.

Maybe he didn't hate Midgard so much now.

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