#she also likes red but its also about what color Tony would make it for her

[unknownbard]

[marvelstoriesepic]

Whumpcember (day 15)

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Prompt: Broken glass

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: slight mentions of panic attacks; crying; slight injury and blood; Bucky being a sweetheart because I love him so much

Author’s note: This got unnecessarily long somehow. Again, this was meant to be a shorty. Also, I was in my feels when I wrote this. Anyway, thank you for reading!

Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist

The final box of Christmas decorations thuds to the ground as you let it down with a heavy huff. You straighten up your back with a grimace, rolling your shoulders.

You might think as an Avenger, carrying a few boxes, would be an easy task. After all, you are trained to thrive under the most punishing conditions, with sharp skills and boundless stamina. But after hauling all those cartons stuffed with tinsel, garlands, and ornaments up from the storage room to the towering Christmas tree in the compound’s common area, you are left panting like you’ve just run a marathon.

It’s almost laughable. Thankfully, you are alone for now. Sam would have a field day, smug grin plastered across his face at the state you’re in.

Wanda, Natasha, and Clint meant to help you with this but they were all still glued to the desk, writing reports, but Bucky is supposed to be back from his latest mission any minute now and you wanted to do this nice thing for him at least. He did sound a little worn out on the phone earlier when he called you to tell you they were on their way back.

So perhaps decorating the Christmas tree would lift his spirit a tiny bit. It’s the first step in what you hope will be a cozy and inviting scene - something Bucky might walk into and, for once, not feel like a soldier returning from a war zone but a man coming home.

The tree is a statement, of course. Tony insisted on it. It’s so tall, it might even brush the high ceiling of the room and there is no way you’ll get some ornaments all the way up without risking your life. And Bucky would definitely not brighten up if you tried it out.

So you’ll absolutely be needing Wanda’s help sooner or later. With a flick of her wrist, she could make this whole thing a hell of a lot easier but you don’t have the time to wait until she is done writing her report.

You let your eyes roam over the many ornaments lying neatly in the box before you and one of them immediately sparks your attention. Your fingers brush against the delicate surface of the red ornament placed almost carefully beside the others.

Its glass is smooth and cool, the color a deep crimson so much more in depth than all the others. You hold it up to the light, turning it slowly, marveling at how the glow from the tree’s string lights catches on its curves and the unique and detailed pattern all across.

It’s heavier than expected, the weight surprising for something so fragile. The gold clasp at the top gleams faintly, tarnished just a little with age. A thin ribbon dangles from it, curling at the end like it has been tied and untied countless times.

There is something about it, some intangible quality that draws you in - a sense of history, of significance.

And then it happens.

The ribbon slips from your grasp, too quick for your fingers to snatch it back. If you weren’t so enamored with the beautiful piece, you would have gotten access to your reflexes a little earlier.

It’s too late now though, and you can only watch in stunned silence as the ornament tumbles to the ground, the crimson surface catching flashes of light as it falls.

It hits the hardwood floor with a sound that is both sharp and final - a crack, then a splintering.

Disappointed in yourself, you crouch down to the shattered remains. Tiny shards of glass fan out like a constellation, glinting under the glow of the tree. The ornament is no longer whole, splintered into different-sized fragments.

Annoyed that you were so stupid and careless to let this special ornament fall to its devastation, you begin to pick up the many red pieces into your palm.

It really was unique. It would have looked great on the tree-

Your movements freeze. Your heart leaps to your throat. A rush of panic claws at your chest and rises up to your ears where it floods and pounds tremendously.

Rebecca B.

It’s a name ingrained into the largest surviving piece of the glass - a faint, looping scrawl. Clearly written by hand.

Rebecca Barnes. The realization makes you weak in the knees and you fall back onto your heels, your ass hitting the floor with a thump.

This isn’t just some random ornament. This isn’t another piece of holiday cheer to hang on a tree and forget about for the rest of the year after packing it back into boxes to store it in a corner of the storage room.

This ornament belonged to Rebecca Barnes. Bucky’s sister. Something Bucky kept all these years, hidden among the other decorations like a relic of a life he’d lost long before his own had been ripped apart.

The air around you feels heavy. The smell of pine from the tree now stings in your nose. Your heart might actually have fallen along with the ornament because it too is shattered in pieces.

The shards tremble in your palm and you stare at them along with the rest still lying helplessly on the ground, as if there is actually something you can do right now to go back in time and not pick it up ever again, just to make sure.

But there is nothing you can do.

Your heart breaks even further at the thought that Bucky might have put it here deliberately. Maybe it was an attempt to move forward, to share the memory of his sister. Maybe he thought the ornament didn’t belong in some dusty package hidden away, but out in the open, a part of the holiday warmth he’s been so hesitant to feel. Maybe it was his thought of remembering her with someone else this time, instead of alone.

This would be such a huge step for him. And you would feel so proud if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack.

Because it’s broken, divided into so many pieces. You just dropped something so carelessly that probably meant the world to Bucky. And, god, did he deserve the world. But you took it. You contorted the precious memories of his little sister. Unwillingly, of course. But that doesn’t make you feel any better right now.

You have known Bucky for a few years now. Though knowing him feels like a word too shallow for what you share. You never labeled it, both of you walking the fine line, and never crossing it.

But you see that Bucky trusts you - the kind of trust he doesn’t hand out freely. And for good reason, after all. In fact, you’re not even sure he’s ever given it to anyone else in quite the same way, not even Steve. And that’s saying something.

You see it in the small things, in the way his guarded demeanor softens when it’s just the two of you, the soft smiles that seem to be reserved for you. It’s the kind of friendship where silence doesn’t have to be filled, and words don’t have to be spoken to be understood.

He lets you sit with him on the couch in the living room on nights when his past pulls him under and doesn’t allow for him to get some shut-eye. You are usually awake yourself, sometimes just running on adrenaline after coming home from a mission and accompanying him silently. He always seems to linger out here when you are away on a mission anyway, so you usually meet him here after getting home, watching his shoulders slowly droop and his back rest more comfortably against the back of the couch.

You are the first at his bedside when his nightmares claw at his mind. You’ve seen him at his most vulnerable - shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked chest, hair plastered to his face, his breaths coming in uneven gasps as you help him fight to pull himself out of his memories.

Those nights, you never push him to talk. You don’t ask him to explain or tell you what he saw. Without a word, you would hand him a glass of water and wait while he drinks, his hands trembling so slightly it makes your stomach feel heavy every time. Sometimes you tell him to breathe with you, in and out, until the panic subsided and his shoulders stopped shaking.

You were never sure how much touch he needs in those moments so you usually stay at a small distance from him, but it seems your presence alone does wonders.

When he would be ready, he always searched your face so long and intensely, before croaking out a heavy but meaningful “Thank you.”

And his small acts of kindness always fill you with a jittery feeling that makes your knees weak and unfortunately doesn’t help at all when fighting against Natasha in the ring.

Just a few weeks ago, Bucky spent an entire Saturday afternoon fixing the squeaky hinge on your bedroom door because he heard you muttering to Wanda about how annoying it was.

He never even told you he was going to do it. You just came back to your room later that evening to find the door silent as a ghost. It took a whole week for you to find out how this happened. And it wasn’t him, who told you. It was Clint, who saw him walk around with a toolbox and a satisfied smile on his face that Clint, as he told you found a little terrifying.

Additionally, he always seems to know when you need a break during training sessions, tossing you a water bottle before you even realize how tired you are. Or he would plant himself wordlessly between you and your opponent for the day, with his arms crossed and a chastising glance at you when you’ve been fighting for hours without acknowledging the way your movements already grew sluggish and wobbly.

You are always aware when his hands linger on your shoulder a second longer after a sparring match, his metal fingers cold but careful, as if he’s memorizing the feel of you there. Or the way your stomach twists when he catches your eye across the room, and for just a moment, it’s like the rest of the world falls away. And the way he talks to you, even when people are around, his voice lower, softer, words chosen with an almost uncharacteristic care, makes you feel like you’re the only person he truly is interested in talking to. You also love the nights he shows up at your door with takeout, wordlessly handing you your favorite meal, and striding into your room to settle at the foot of your bed with a contented sigh.

Through it all, however, was always this persistent question you had. The one that molded into an ache inside your chest. Because what if? What if you took one step closer and stopped holding back? What if you risk everything you have with him now for something more?

But right now you feel like those questions don’t hold the same energy anymore. The same weight. No, they just got weightless. Pointless. Because you just ruined everything without even risking it.

You just destroyed something that can’t be fixed with glue and an apology. It can’t be fixed with you sitting with him and comforting him in the dark while his mind goes to the same cruel place like many times before.

This feels like you’ve crossed a line you can’t uncross.

The wrong line.

Shaking hands pick up the largest fragment, the soft loops of her name still visible through the fractures. The sharp ends bite into your palm like the memory of something sacred that’s been lost. You don’t feel the sting. You don’t feel the sensation of the few droplets of blood sliding over your palm where the ends nicked your skin.

The only thing you register is that this foolish mistake might actually unravel everything you’ve built with him.

He let you in, further than anyone, but that doesn’t mean he won’t push you back out if you give him a reason. And this definitely feels like a reason.

Your mind presents you with his reaction when he comes walking in here and sees what happened.

At first, there’d be nothing - just the stoic silence he uses to sink into, the kind that makes it impossible to tell what he’s thinking. But you’d see it in the smallest of things - the way his jaw tightens just enough to be noticeable, the flicker in his eyes that he’ll try to hide but won’t be able to, the stiffening of his shoulders. And then the desolation, like a tide pulling back just before it crashes. You wonder if he would say anything at all, or if the silence would hang heavy.

You swallow hard, begin to feel the sting behind your eyes, and try to force the lump in your throat down.

You’ve worked so hard to be someone he could rely on, someone he could trust in ways he hasn’t trusted anyone else in decades. You’ve sat with him, listened to him, stayed silent with him. Learned to know him so well, you even memorized the subtle shifts in his expressions, the things he won’t say but still lets you feel.

And now, here you are with broken glass in your hands and a painful feeling in your chest, terrified that this could be the moment that shatters the thing between you.

He might pull away, retreat behind those walls he’s spent years building. What if he doesn’t let you sit with him anymore. Or what if he does, but his shoulder would only grow more tense. What if he starts holding back, measuring his words, locking the parts of himself away that he once entrusted to you?

The idea of losing him - not just losing him, but losing this connection, this unspoken, almost-more-than-friendship thing that you’ve both been too afraid to name - makes your breath catch and something rise in your chest that might be bile.

A sob comes out instead.

It comes out like a wound ripped open before it could begin to heal. You press a quivering hand to your mouth, in hopes of muffling the sound, but it’s no use. More broken sobs come anyway.

You try to pull yourself together, to force the tears back, but your body feels so weak under the guilt and shame.

More parts of the broken ornament bite into your skin, red droplets welling up and sliding down your skin, pooling at the curve of your wrist, before falling soundlessly to the floor.

Pain should ground you. It should pull you out of this spiral, force you to snap back to some semblance of control. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t do anything at all.

Instinctively, your hand gives way, the pieces tumbling from your fingers and scattering across the hardwood once more.

You only sit there, frozen, your breath hitching and catching in your throat as tears streak down your face, warm and unwelcome. You can’t stop them.

You’re not supposed to be this weak. You’re not supposed to break down like this, over something so small. And yet that makes the sobs only harder to contain. Because this isn’t small - not to Bucky. And that’s the part that leaves you as shattered as the crimson glass. Perhaps as shattered as your relationship with the person you fell for as hard as the ornament fell to the ground.

It’s Rebecca. His sister. His past. His grief. It’s a tiny piece of his life that he trusted enough to bring out of hiding, to put here with the rest of the world, in the open where it could be seen. Where it could be touched. And you touched it, only to let it fall. Only to ruin it.

Shame knocks down on you so hard, you draw your knees up to your chest, curling into yourself as though you could make yourself smaller, invisible, anything but this.

You don’t even know what to do with your blood-streaked palm, only letting it hover in the air, the shallow cuts glistening under the still-glowing lights of the tree. It’s a mess. You are a mess. Curling your fingers into a fist, you wince in pain at the stinging of the cuts but you leave it like that.

Perhaps you are overreacting, sitting here on the floor in the common area of the compound with a bleeding hand and the shattered remains of Rebecca Barnes's memory, but you feel so helpless and remorseful, you can’t really think straight at the moment.

The sound of the elevator is faint, but it’s enough to reach your ears. You freeze. You just sit there, knees drawn to your chest, blood smeared across your palm, the shattered glass of the ornament glittering like broken stars on the floor.

You are tear-streaked, trembling, your chest still hitching with uneven breaths and Bucky just got home.

Those approaching footsteps are so familiar to you, you would always recognize his gate. Usually, it’s comforting, grounding to know he got home and would leave you with relief in your chest.

But there is no place for relief in your chest right now.

His footsteps sound normal, steady, perhaps a little hurried but he hasn’t reached this room yet.

You don’t look up. Instead, you bite your lip to stop the sob that threatens to escape. The shame is too sharp, cutting deeper than any piece of the ornament and making your heart bleed as well.

Maybe if you stay still, if you stay quiet, he’ll miss you somehow.

But then his steps come to an abrupt halt and you know you are screwed.

Burning tears spike once more and the sob breaks free.

“Woah, hey-” he calls out, so urgent, so worried.

Bucky is across the room in a heartbeat, dropping to his knees in front of you with a speed that catches you off guard.

“Sweetheart, hey.” It falls from his lips so softly, so worried, it nearly breaks you all over again.

Tears fall more freely at the kind of tenderness in his tone and suddenly his hand is cupping your face, thumb, and knuckles brushing the streaks of wetness from your cheeks.

But they keep coming.

“Look at me, please! Doll, look at me,” he murmurs, his voice impossibly gentle, but dripping with so much concern. His metal hand is on your face as well and he tilts it upward, guiding your gaze toward his.

His brows are drawn so deeply, lips parting slightly as he studies your face - the tear tracks, the desolation in your eyes, the shame and guilt, the trembling of your shoulders.

You can’t look at him. Can’t bear to see it. So you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’ll ever be able to forget that look on his face. Not when you know what’s coming. Not when you know what you have caused.

Just wait until he sees it, you think. That look will change.

“No,” he whispers, his voice so soft again, but there is a firmness in it. The pad of his flesh thumb smooths gently across your cheek again, while his metal fingers move to your hair. “Hey, no, don’t do that. It’s okay. Y/n, it’s okay!”

You shake your head quickly and try to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a choked sound, half-sob, half-breath. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He doesn’t know what this is about.

You want to stay hidden behind the veil of your closed eyes, safe from not seeing what you know will be there in perhaps seconds when he figures it out - disappointment, maybe anger, the grief of what you’ve broken.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart, please.”

There is something in his voice you can’t ignore. It sounds unshakable and steady, yet fragile and thick.

Slowly, reluctantly, your eyes flutter open to meet his, but when you do, you freeze.

Because he already knows.

He looks at you. Just looks, but you see he already put the pieces together. He saw the shards scattering around your knees. His expression is softer than you’ve ever seen it but he looks at you with an intensity that is new to you. There is that understanding in his eyes. But it’s so soft. So gentle.

There is no anger, no frustration, no disappointment.

There is nothing of the reaction you had feared for.

Yes, there is pain in his eyes as well. It’s unmistakable, flickering in the soft blue of his irises. But it’s not the pain you expected.

It’s not for the ornament. It’s not for what it meant.

It’s for you.

You can see it in the way his brows crease, the frown that tugs at his mouth. And the way he never once lets his gaze stray to the shards on the floor. All he looks at is you.

Bucky keeps his hands on your face, continuing to swipe over your cheeks like he’s afraid you’ll crumble if he lets go. Then, his thumbs still, resting against your cheekbones, his touch so achingly gentle that it only makes more tears fall.

“Sweetheart,” he says again, and the word cracks, quiet and uneven. He still doesn’t look angry. He still doesn’t look disappointed. He looks devastated - not for what you’ve done, but for what it’s done to you.

Your lips tremble, barely able to form words.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Come here.”

Baby definitely is a new one. It’s something he’s never called you before. But there is no time to linger on it, no chance to unpack the flutter it sparks in your stomach because he’s already pulling you toward him.

His flesh arm wraps around your body, tugging you against his chest, while his metal hand finds its place at the back of your head, cold but reassuring fingers threading through your hair.

He lets you cry against his chest. Cradles you so tightly to him, you might actually get worried about your ribs, but it feels so good. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, his heart is pounding. The fabric of his tactical suit presses against your skin, rough and worn from the mission he just came back from, but it grounds you to some extent.

“It’s okay. Just breathe, alright? Breathe,” he keeps whispering, exaggerating his breaths against your body to invite you to follow his lead. You try.

“I’m so sorry,” you sob, the words spilling out in a choked, broken rush as you bury your face in his chest. The tears won’t stop, soaking into the dark fabric of his suit.

“Shh,” he keeps on with his soft voice. His arm around you tightens, holding you closer, while his metal hand stays solidly at the back of your head. His fingers brush through your hair in slow, soothing motions. “Don’t be. Don’t you dare be.”

He continues murmuring to you when you try to apologize again, his voice low and warm. He talks so calmly and sure, you feel something inside of you churn.

Bucky tilts his head slightly, resting his cheek against your hair, and you feel the warmth of his breath as he talks to you.

And yet, biting guilt gnaws its way through your ribs. You feel terrible - worse than terrible - because it should be you comforting him, not the other way around.

It’s him who lost something precious, something you had broken. And here he is, holding you, brushing tears from your face, whispering words meant to stitch you back together.

But somehow, he doesn’t even seem to care. He holds you like you are the only thing that matters right now.

Remorse burrows deep, heavy, and shaming, until it pulls you back to yourself - slowly, shakily, but enough to loosen the sobs caught in your throat.

You sniff and take a breath, a real one this time, ragged but yours.

Then, you shift in his arms, gently pressing against his chest to put space between you. His hold loosens, slowly, with a hesitation that tugs at something in you. As if he is reluctant to let you go. Still, he relents.

His flesh hand slides away first, but his metal one lingers, brushing through your hair one last time before settling on your shoulder. He keeps you close, his thumb brushing absentminded sweeps across your sweater.

His gaze never strays and it’s heavy. You can’t meet his eyes for long. They’re too full of that care you don’t deserve, the care he shows you in so many small gestures all the time.

So your gaze falls to the floor, but then you freeze again.

The broken shards that had glinted so mockingly against the floor just moments ago are gone. Instead, settled carefully on the coffee table as though it had never fallen at all, is the ornament.

Whole.

It takes you a moment to process it, to trust what you’re seeing. The cracks are gone, smoothed over seamlessly. The gleaming red glass catches the light of the Christmas tree, its golden little details shining like something out of a memory, timeless and unbroken. As beautiful and aesthetic as before.

For a moment, you even wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you, but then you notice Wanda standing at the far side of the room. Her hands lower slowly, the telltale red glow of her magic fading from her fingertips.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t step closer - just tilts her head slightly, offering you the faintest, knowing smile. Her eyes are warm.

God, of course. You should have thought of that. It even makes you feel a little ridiculous. You live together with people who possess supernatural abilities, powers beyond comprehension. You should have thought of Wanda. How her hands could have mended it back together in seconds.

A choked breath stumbles out of you, somewhere between relief and disbelief. Bucky follows your gaze, his brows furrowing, only to soften when he sees the ornament resting perfectly intact on the table. He stares at it for a moment.

But then he looks back at you and his sweet smile could melt any ice this winter has to offer.

His flesh hand moves a few strands of hair out of your face and tugs them tenderly behind your ear. His hand stays on your cheek. “Told you it’s okay.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I still broke it,” you say, words slipping out quietly, somberly. Your gaze remains fixed on it. Wanda seems to have slipped out again.

“Stop,” Bucky cuts in, his voice more firm than before but still gentle as always. He shakes his head, moving closer to you again, gaze fixed on you.

You feel his hand brush against yours, but then his shoulders stiffen up. He stops. His eyes catch on something and his expression shifts in an instant.

“Jesus-” His frown deepens, something like a shadow crosses his eyes. Sharp eyes lock onto the red streaks lining your palm, the cuts where the shattered glass had broken your skin.

You hadn’t even realized you were still holding onto the pain - too caught up in everything else to notice the dull throb of your hand or the sting of the scratches.

“You’re bleeding. Why didn’t you say anything?” The words are a quiet exhale, soft but weighted. There is no reprimand in his voice, no anger - only concern coloring every syllable.

His thumb ghosts over your wrist, careful not to brush against the cuts. His intense gaze flickers from your injured hand to your face, searching your expression.

“It’s not a big deal-”

“Don’t.”

Bucky shakes his head. His jaw tightens and he exhales sharply through his nose. It’s not frustration - not with you, anyway. It’s something deeper, something that seems to pain him in his chest as he studies the scratches like they’re a personal failing.

“Bucky,” you say while trying to pull your hand back from his grasp when he tilts it more toward the light to get a better look. As if he hasn’t the eyesight of a super soldier.

“Doll. Let me see.” His lips press into a thin line, the faintest hint of exasperation ghosting across his face.

The sigh you let out drags down your chest and you don’t resist when Bucky keeps cradling your bleeding hand and studies the scratches. His brow is furrowed in concentration that feels too much for something so small.

You want to tell him it’s fine, that this is nothing, but the words die before they reach your tongue.

“Let’s get you fixed up,” he says tightly, the tone of his voice all business and leaving no room for argument.

But you shake your head. It’s your fault the ornament broke in the first place. You’re aware it’s whole again, but it was in shambles just moments earlier and you cut yourself thanks to your own stupidity.

“Bucky, you just got back from a mission-” you protest, your voice quieter than you’d like.

“Not too worried about myself right now, doll,” he interrupts, his voice insistent but warm. The hint of steel beneath his words not directed at you but at the way your guilt is still in control, trying to downplay yourself.

“Come on.” He says it softer now, but before you can argue any further, he’s already moving.

Without so much as a pause, Bucky stands and scoops you up into his arms as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You barely have a second to process the shift, before you’re pressed securely against his chest.

“Bucky!” you exclaim, startled, your uninjured hand reaching for his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Relax, doll. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost amused, though his expression remains calm, focused.

You sigh again, but there is a laugh on your breath. “Buck, I can walk. You don’t have to-”

“Not hearing it,” he says simply, almost flatly. He just continues striding along the halls with you in his arms. His steps are heavier, but you know it’s not because of your weight. He holds you like you weigh nothing at all. “You’re hurt.”

That doesn’t sound like a plausible explanation to you, since you’ve come home with way worse injuries from missions over the last months alone. But the gruffness of his voice, the one that always accompanies him when you’re injured, no matter how small - the seriousness, the concern - it shuts you up for the time being.

You let your head rest against his shoulder. He smells a little like gunpowder and dust, but you only latch onto the parts that are him and breathe them in.

“I didn’t mean to break it, Bucky,” to whisper, gaze dropping to the tightly pressed ball that is your bloody fist. “I’m so sorry.”

You feel the intake of Bucky’s breath against your body and his eyes warmly falling down on you. You don’t meet his gaze.

“You didn’t break anything, sweetheart.” His voice is like velvet, brushing so softly against your skin. So reassuringly. So profoundly gentle. “You’re okay, doll. We’re okay. I promise.” His hands curl tighter around you.

You blink, your head tilting to glance up at him, and your breath catches when you meet his gaze.

It is intense. His brows are pulled together - not with anger, but with concern. Like the only things he cares about right now are the tears that linger in your eyes and the way you’re still trying to curl in on yourself, still letting your body slightly shake with the guilt that he refuses to let you carry.

Something stirs in your belly. Something flutters, as if thousands of tiny wings brush against the walls of you, demanding to be seen. To be felt.

Because you let your mind spiral so much earlier, bracing yourself for a reaction of disappointment, frustration - that flicker of something unnameable that might pull the two of you apart.

But it still isn’t there.

Not even close.

It’s the opposite, really.

[missacidburn928]

It's a year old but here's some holiday spice for you all while I wait in the urgent care with my autistic son.

I Really Do Believe In You....

Steve Rogers × Bucky Barnes x Thor Odinson × POC Singer!Reader "Honey"

Let’s see if you believe in me.

The Avengers Holiday party. You are both a guest and part of the musical entertainment. Will you end up on the naughty or nice list?

You spot them as they enter the main ballroom. Your three strapping men, color coordinated and cutting intimidating frames in their suit choices. Thank the goddess you had a good hold on the mic as you waited for your cue to join Sy in singing White Christmas, or you might have literally swooned in front of this mass of party goers.

You start your verse as you watch them make their way over to the bar where the team, plus one Sharon Carter, have gathered. Thankfully tonight’s event is Jane Foster free, so it should be a good night with you, Sy and the Chanti’s house band entertaining Tony’s rich friends and employees before enjoying some much needed time with your men.

You can't help but feel festive in your short red dress, studded red fishnets and nude pumps. You’ve kept your makeup simple with a nude lip and a smokey eye. Your hair down and in its natural state. Sy made a comment when picking you up that you looked like Santa’s little Siren. Seems appropriate if you do say so yourself.

Per usual you notice Sharon being a bit too chummy with your Captain. The woman just can’t help herself. You know all about the “kiss” when they were trying to save your beloved Bucky. But according to Steve the reason it never went further was because there was no spark when their lips touched. And he tried giving her a chance, chalking the lack of spark up to the stress of the situation, but she was way too into his status and power. So he ended things before it made it any further than a couple dates and a subpar makeout session.

What is it with these prude ass women that hang around these strong ass people? Sharon, like Jane, thinks your quad is ridiculous and you don't need that many men. Especially when you added Steve in. 

“He should be upholding traditional values as he’s America's golden boy. Not flaunting such an alternative lifestyle. Hell if he was gay it would be easier than this bullshit. Why on Earth would you want to willingly share a woman with two other men. Not to mention one of those men is a God and the other a murderer.”

Let's not forget what she also stated in that little rant of hers, when she was unaware you could hear her perfectly clear from your spot in the common room. “I just don’t understand what he sees in her. Who stays in a band with someone they used to be fuck buddies with? It’s just tacky and sad. A man that powerful should be with someone who is only devoted to him and can boost his image, not damage it. ” 

I’ll show her tacky. Lord knows I'm certainly not above being petty. I’ve been behaving for far too long. Time to put these Siren skills to use. What good are they to have if you can’t fuck with uppity bitches using them.

Continue

[dulldoll-0]

As in TikTok by TONY or Ray:

1.It mentiond that Wally doesn't remember Ophelia.what happened to make him forget?(it confuses me, sorry😅)

2.Does Isabella see weather as her daughter or a thing thats just a responsibility for her?

ALSO!

3.How would ALL the itsys help someone who is overwhelmed/ overstimulated by anxiety, noise and people?

(Also thank you for answering my questions!love your videos and the stories you make!❤️)

Ans:

1. I got the inspiration from BlueRaven’s version of Bad Ending Walden who took the concepts from Dodozoi’s (former owner of WH RF AU ) old story concept of the Bad Ending Timeline, where Walden injects himself with some red substances making him regenerate his arm to a skeletal prosthetic, forgetting about the people he loved, and make him go crazy; killing anything that crosses his path for more colors.

-In BlueRaven’s story, Walden earns regenerates his arm due to the red substance he had injected himself along with its other affects caused thanks to Harold/Home & IT. Killing people made Walden earn the title as the neighbourhood’s “Midnight Maniac.”

-In my BRBB comic, it all still has the same elements of how he lost his memories even in Timeskip. He’s still crazy but more calmer and humane, civil??? Maybe???, on some cases at least, — He’s just not as berserk as the Midnight Maniac thanks to Isabella.

I’ll also be holding on to the concept of Harold/Home & IT being involved, as it has shown in Dodozoi’s old illustrations that Harold seems to deeply and genuinely care about Walden and his well-being, even being there for him for comfort when he needed it. — I also like to think Harold agreed to letting him forget as to that’s what Walden wanted, to forget everything, and to stop hurting, — but also a few of IT’s ideas being pitched in.

2. Both. Her daughter is her responsibility. ( You can do your own deep-analysis on their relationship if you want to, I think it’d be pretty awesome knowing how other people see their relationship as to why or how it is that way, along with Isabella & Walden, and Walden & Weather ).

3.

-💜Itsy—would offer physical contact, even letting them lay down on her big tail for comfort. She’d listen if they needed or wanted to vent, but won’t give any wise advise, not really. Just a few comments here and there.

-💛Opposite Itsy/ Beetsy— doesn’t know how to comfort, she’s pretty hesitant when doing it, not knowing what to do or say especially when not knowing what the person specifically wants or needs. The best she can do is give a few hugs, back rubs, hand holding, and just being a listening ear, and a few “I’m sorrys” here and there.

She’d also probably offer you something to make you feel better, like a flower, but mostly food or small snacks, even going out of her way to find or buy anything that can stimulate you.

-🩶Rainbow Factory Itsy/ Isabella— would simply initiate physical contact, just holding her hand and a few pats and hugs is all she can offer.

-🩷Euphoria Bugs Itsy/ Molly— would not know what to do with her brain and memory almost like a gold fish. If she saw you with a frown on your face, she would offer you a big hug while still not knowing what’s going on completely. She’d probably find other different ways to make you feel better and will not stop until she succeeds.

-❤️Evil Itsy/ Missy— would offer tea. . . . and or give you a smack behind the head for some reason. 💀

-💙Hunter Itsy/ Itty— would give small hugs, as that’s all she can do. ( She does this to Hunter Wally sometimes when he feels tired or sad. )

-♠️Royalty Itsy/ Isakarra— would use her graceful side to appear to be more gentle or comforting, offering tea and pats, and would put on her armor for you to punch or blow off steam. She’s also the type to ask “Who should I slay for you?”

-♥️Butcher Itsy/ Teethy — Offers food.

[imagines--galore]

Hi! I was wondering if you'd be comfortable woth writing Steve Rogers x reader who's a seamstress/designer that wears mostly WW2 era clothing?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Fluff. No warnings.

A/N: OMG! I love this ask! Like seriously thank you so much! Also I drew inspiration from Edna Mode from the Incredibles LOL. Also I hope everything I wrote makes sense. Its two in the morning and my fingers won't stop typing : P Anywho! Enjoy!

People were surprised, to say the least, when you would present yourself as a designer. And not just any designer.

You were now in charge of updating, mending and designing uniforms for the Avengers.

Was it a real job title? Not really. But then since when had that stopped Tony Stark? He could update his armor on his own, and adjust it to his liking. The rest of his team, however, did not have the luxury. Bruce didn't need a uniform, while Thor had his own godly outfit. Natasha needed her uniform mended after a brutal fight. Not to mention she needed suits that would keep her warm in cold weather, and allow her skin to breath in the hot weather. Clint required a uniform that was sturdy yet easy to move in, since maneuvering was a big part of his gig. And Steve came back with more then a few rips in his uniform, on more then one occasion.

And with the growing roster of the Avengers, Tony had taken this particular step and hired you as the official designer/seamstress for the Avengers.

Every fabric imaginable was at your disposal. Not to mention the technology. You were working in your dream field, and was loving every second of it.

Plus it gave you time to work on your own projects as well.

And that was creating vintage clothing from the 40s and 50s.

Fashions from the years past had always fascinated you, and though you would love to wear the elegant gowns and other period pieces, the design and cuts of women's clothing from the 40s and 50s wouldn't get you stared at.

At least not much.

Besides, there was another more empowering reason you wore clothes from that era.

The first time you had met the Avengers, was after the Battle of New York. Tony had set you up, and you had met with each team member separately to talk about their new uniforms.

The day you met Steve, you had just finished speaking to Natasha and waved her goodbye. You were sitting on the tall stool by the bar within the Avengers Tower and going over your rough sketches and notes. As was the norm, you were wearing pants and a shirt styled after the 40s fashion, a rare occasion since you adored the skirts and dresses that came with those years. Sensing someone approach you, you looked up, red lips pulling into a bright smile as you saw the Captain approaching.

"Captain, hi." You quickly stood, heels clicking against the marble floor as you did. "I'm Y/n, 'your new designer." He stared at you for a few more seconds, before shaking himself out of whatever stupor he was in and approached you. "Its nice to meet you, Ma'am." You smiled at him. "Call me Y/N." You offered, before hoping onto your stool once more and pulling out an entirely new sketchbook from your bag. It already had a few sketches of the Captain's uniform in it, plus some detailed notes along the margins.

"So, what is it you'd like me to change about your suit?" You asked, smiling at him as you crossed one leg over the other, pencil poised on a new page to start taking notes.

It took a few minutes before Steve began to speak to you openly. He was detailed about what he did or didn't want, and you were precise with your questions as you took notes. Of course the color scheme would remain the same, but you offered to create one that was entirely black, for stealth missions, you explained. He agreed, thinking that perhaps blue and red would stick out like a sore thumb in the shadows.

As you were tracing the shoulder of the uniform from the side, filling in the details as you went along you glanced up at him.

"What about the symbol?" You asked. The Captain stared back at you, confused. "What symbol?"

"Well you have the star as your personal symbol, but now that you're a part of the team, shouldn't you wear an Avengers symbol somewhere?" You gestured to the shoulder you had outlined. "I was thinking perhaps an A right there." You suggested. He glanced at the drawing before looking back up at you. A small smiled pulled at his lips before he chuckled. "I hadn't even thought of that." He admitted. Suddenly his blue eyes lit up and he gestured out a hand.

"May I?" Nodding you quickly handed over the sketchbook and pencil, watching in fascination as he began to do a quick sketch of the symbol he wanted that would represent his alliance. With the way he created the strokes with each sweep of the pencil, precise and elegant, you couldn't help but make a guess.

"Do you draw Captain?" You asked, your eyes never leaving his hand as he began to add in the details such as outlining and shading. The man shrugged. "A little bit." You had a feeling he was being modest. You had worked with designers and had studied alongside future designers, you knew an artist when you saw one.

"What do you think?" He finally asked, sliding the sketchbook back towards you.

Your eyes scanned over what would be the official Avengers logo before grinning.

"Look perfect."

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

It didn't take long for you and the Captain to be on first name basis. But then again it was the same with Natasha and Clint. While you mostly talked shop with the two assassins, with the Captain, now Steve, it was another story.

It was easy to talk to him, to go into depth when designing a new outfit for him. He was a super soldier, and regular clothing sizes didn't particularly make the cut sometimes. So it was the norm for you to be creating other clothes for him as well. He would come to you with an idea or even a rough sketch and you would make it a reality.

Then there were the mission outfits. Oh you loved those! Adding hidden seams and cuts into Natasha's dresses so she could hide her weapons. Helping Clint create a tuxedo that managed to hide several sharp arrows. Short ones of course, but still good enough to use with a crossbow.

Your work remained consistent and up to par, as did your dress sense. Not a day went by when you didn't wear something dapper whenever you went to work. You could always tell that there was a curious gleam in Steve's eyes whenever you two would interact, but you dismissed it. He probably thought you strange for your dressing style, but it didn't bother you. Tony had taken to joking about your style, but only in jest. He was just as impressed with your skills just as any other team member.

Of all the Avengers, Steve became a good friend. And you had secretly admitted to yourself that those blue eyes and smile did comes as a bonus. Not to mention he was in peak physical condition. If you had the guts you would ask him to model a few of your own personal pieces for you, but you would never come outright and say something like that.

At present you were putting the final touches on Clint's new uniform. He had decided that maybe he needed a little more dark purple and you had complied. Working with Kevlar was a pain though. It was hard to mesh the fabric together and create something that would fit with the man's physique perfectly.

You were getting tired, and your fingers were aching from the numerous pins and needles you had handled that day. Not to mention the constant cutting. Your hand was beginning to cramp and you had decided to call it a day.

Your workplace was stationed at one of the floors of the Avengers Tower and you could see the sun beginning to set. Sighing you kicked off your heels, stretching your toes and sitting back in your chair. You propped your feet up on another chair and leaned your head back. You had only just taken a deep breath when you heard the door slide open. Straightening up, you glanced in the general direction before relaxing.

"Oh Steve, its only you." You went back to your previous posture of relaxing. "Hurtful Y/N, that you think so little of me. I am a Captain after all." He feigned being hurt with a hand to his chest. To play along with his little joke, you instantly jumped to your feet, and stood at attention, saluting him as you did. The expression on your one was one of sheer concentration and attention, prompting the soldier to laugh out loud as he approached you.

"At ease, soldier." He patted you gently on the shoulder. You broke the salute to grin up at him. Your gaze flitted to the torn page he held. "New project for me? You do know how to spoil a girl Steve." You said with a teasing nudge to his shoulder as you took the page from him. He shrugged in response. "I just thought it'd be a fun little side project for you. You're always saying you love those." You hummed in agreement as your eyes scanned his rough sketching, already making calculations and measurements in your head.

"It'll take me a couple weeks to get to this though, I'm swamped." You gestured to the multiple projects she had laid out on rows and rows of tables. Steve quickly nodded. "Of course, work comes first." You sighed. "I wish I'd have extra time for my own projects as well, it took me two weeks to complete this." You gestured to the dress you were wearing.

Your outfit for the day was one of your own designs, and it was one of your best, in your opinion. You had paired it with shoes that matched the color of the scarf. For your hair you had gone quite simple, simply adjusting the waves and curls and allowing them to frame your features.

Steve did a once over of your dress. He was silent for a few seconds. "What?" You asked, frowning at the sudden silence. "Can I ask you something Y/N?" He said. Was he actually looking nervous about what he wanted to ask. You gave a nod, encouraging him to go on.

"Why do you dress like that?" He asked.

You blinked, tilting your head in confusion. "Like what?"

He shrugged before gesturing to your overall appearance. "Like you don't belong in this era."

"Oh! Oh my gosh! Steve! Is my wearing clothes from the 40s bothering you? I should've realized I am so sorry!" Your apologies were cut off when he shook his head. "No! No! Its not that." He seemed to be struggling to find the words.

"I mean that since I woke up I've only ever seen women dress in today's fashions. And I always thought dames would dress according to the latest fashion." God knows he had been aware of the fact. Bucky's sisters had always been obsessed with the latest trends. And he was sure that if they had seen you, they would've swooned over your outfits.

You gave a small sigh of relief. "Oh is that all? I thought maybe you didn't like the way I dressed." He shook his head. "I like how you dress, its like being back home. A little." There was no doubt there was a hint of sadness in his eyes this time when he spoke, and your heart went out to him. "Well I'm glad the way I dress has helped remind you of home." You said, giving him a small smile.

"And to be honest," You continued. "There is a bit of a sentimental reason why I dress like this." A quirk of an eyebrow on his part prompted you to go on so you did.

"My grandmother was a factory worker during World War II. When I was little she used to tell me how during those years women really started to come into their own. With the men gone, women stepped up and started to take charge of small businesses and working jobs that men had otherwise occupied previously. And because of this women had to wear practical clothing, like pants and shorter skirts. Sure there was also a fabric shortage, but it only helped women dress practically. Not to mention they had to cut their hair to keep it out of the way."

You glanced down at yourself, smoothing the front of your dress before looking back up at him and continued. "I dress like this because I love the style. It makes me feel pretty and I'm able to do my work efficiently." You paused. "But most of all, I wear them to remind me that women have come a long long way then simply being house-makers and small unknown business owners. And I honestly really just admire the way women took charge while their men were away." You grinned. "Talk about real empowerment."

By the time you finished talking there was a smile on Steve's face and a lingering sadness as well. You reached out to lay your hand on his arm. "Are you alright?" He nodded. "Yeah, just what you said, reminded me of a whole lot of women who I knew took charge on the battle front." He had met some brave soldiers during WWII, but he had also met some incredibly fearless women who were ready to charge the Nazis. Of course they weren't allowed to, so they tended to the wounded, drove them to hospitals, acted as liaisons and secretaries. Their roles were just as important as that of a soldier. And then there was Peggy.

Steve could see a glimmer of that fierceness in you that he had seen in Peggy. He had made his peace with the fact that she had lived her life. And now looking at you, a small thought took root in his mind. Maybe he could find someone to spend his life with as well?

"If you're done here." He gazed around the room, hands now stuffing in his pockets as his feet shuffled nervously where he stood. "You want to get something to eat?"

Alright, so hadn't been expecting that. A bright smile bloomed on your face and you gave Steve a little curtsy. "Such a gentleman. Let me just grab my bag."

He waited for your patiently by the door as you quickly pulled on your shoes and grabbed your handbag, tugging on your gloves as you went. "So where to?" You asked as you stepped up next to him. He grinned, offering you his arm which you gladly took, before answering.

"I know a really good 40s themed diner?"

"Sounds divine."

[ephemeralstarss]

introduction to me!!!

hi! my name's noah and here are a few things about me and what i like!

i'm mainly in the marauders fandom, but i also like arcane, star wars, percy jackson and marvel

my favorite book is the song of achilles by madeline miller!!

i'm a minor

my favorite color is either red or green

i play the oboe (concert band) and the alto saxophone (marching band)

i'm a trans guy and bisexual/aromantic

i'm american and brazilian (although my portuguese isn't nearly native level lmao)

i also use celsius

ao3 masterlist under the cut:

organized by length (completed, then uncompleted) and with all major ships

completed:

golden pass - marvel, oneshot, tony & peter, wc: 17.5k

For three months after an incident in a battle that leaves Tony hospitalized, Peter's convinced himself that Tony blames and hates him for what happened. One day in AP Physics, a yellow field trip slip makes its way to his desk.

the song of silence - marauders, oneshot, dorlene, wc: 16.5k

Marlene is sent to a boarding school in Scotland, far away from her home in Miami, Florida. One thing leads to another, and now she's gotten herself signed up for a bake fair.

all is found - marauders, oneshot, sirius & regulus, wc: 8.9k

When Regulus was younger, Sirius used to sing him a song before he fell asleep.   Where the North Wind meets the sea...

doors - marauders, oneshot, jegulus, wc: 8.8k

based off of this tweet by @padfootsluvrboy: "jegulus au where regulus is a seer and knows he's going to die and rejects james every time so he doesn't hurt him. (but when he finally says yes, suddenly that vision never comes back and they die old together)

spring blooming - marauders, oneshot, pandalily, wc: 7.7k

Lily Evans never thought she'd be a good mother, or a good girlfriend, for that matter.

make it stop - marauders, 3/3 chapters, rosekiller, wc: 7k

Everyone knew that Barty Crouch Jr. was insane. A psychopath that helped torture two people into insanity. A Death Eater. But what happened before that? What happened after? And the real question: How?

words on walls - marauders, oneshot, jegulus/marylily, wc: 3.9k

Months after the second wizarding war ends, Harry visits 12 Grimmauld Place. He goes into Regulus Black's room.

one day at a time - marauders, oneshot, wolfstar, wc: 3.5k

Lily and James are dead, and Peter has been arrested for betraying his role as a secret keeper. Sirius and Remus take Harry back from the doorstep of the Dursleys.

come back to me - marauders, oneshot, jegulus, wc: 3.4k

Regulus is captured by the aurors on a raid. James finds out (and so do Sirius and Remus).

forever and always - marauders, oneshot, sirius & regulus, wc: 3.3k

Sirius promised Regulus that he would love him, forever and always, no matter what. It seems that he forgot.

dusted over dreams - marauders, oneshot, jegulus, wc: 3.3k

Harry finds a loose floorboard in Sirius' younger brother's room.

his name - marauders, oneshot, sirius & dorcas, wc: 2.9k

based off a post by @not-rab where the basic premise is what would happen if dorcas called sirius by his brother's name

the green of his eyes - marauders, oneshot, jegulus/wolfstar, wc: 2.8k

What would happen if Harry from canon met another Harry from an alternate universe?

professor black - marauders, oneshot, jegulus, wc: 2.3k

No one knows anything about Professor Black. Except for Olivia Bones, who intends to find out.

pens and parchment - marauders, oneshot, regulus & lily, wc: 2k

One day, Regulus walks into the library to find Lily Evans sitting at his table. His quill breaks. A friendship forms.

they don't deserve you - marauders, oneshot, regulus & pandora, wc: 2k

Pandora doesn't need to read a piece of paper to know that Regulus is dead. She felt it when her soul was ripped in two.

cookies and muffins - marauders, oneshot, jegulus, wc: 1.9k

based off of this post by @jeguluvr where the basic premise is that james makes tiktoks about food and regulus is the taste tester. who is also a world famous model. they're also married.

azkaban: the perfect place to make a friend - marauders, oneshot, sirius & barty, wc: 1.8k

Sirius makes a friend in Azkaban

pink dresses - marauders, oneshot, rosekiller, emeralds friend group, wc: 1.8k

Barty always thought he would be the first to die.

When (Lily) Falls In Love - marauders, oneshot, marylily, wc: 1.8k

Lily falls in love with a girl with the prettiest eyes she's ever seen.

we'll meet again - marauders, oneshot, regulus & pandora, harry & luna, wc: 1.7k

in history, some things are bound to repeat themselves. sometimes, those things are people.

breathe. - marauders, oneshot, jegulus, wc: 1.4k

Regulus Black is gone. James Potter can’t find it in himself to breathe.

i love you. - marauders, oneshot, jegulus, wc: 1k

Regulus Black has never said I love you.

the voices in my head - marauders, marylily, wc: 1k

Mary Macdonald is hearing voices.

letter to an old poet - marauders, wolfstar, wc: 975

Remus doesn't know where it all went wrong.

incomplete:

alignment - marauders, jegulus/wolfstar, WIP 20/100, current wc: 156k

On Sirius' ninth birthday, he leaves Tatooine with a boy named James, leaving his little brother Regulus behind to join the prestigious Jedi Order under the wing of Master Gideon. Ten years later, Regulus meets a group of smugglers, leaving Tatooine behind for good. They pick up a job of spice running and meet a girl with bright blonde hair along the way. --or-- a jegulus and wolfstar star wars au

cracked shells - marauders, mainly regulus centered but eventual jegulus, WIP, current wc: 11k

At the age of five years old, Regulus Black is presumed to be a squib. He's thrown out by his parents, his and Sirius' minds being wiped in the process. The Wizarding World believes him to be dead. The only things he has left? A deep burn on his palm, a piece of paper with his name, and the little spark of fire that comes out of his fingertips when he snaps.

will you still be with me when the magic's all run out - marauders, jegulus/wolfstar/dorlene/pandalily, WIP, current wc: 37k

Ever since Sirius left the Isle with James Potter, Regulus has been bitter. Alone. Forgotten. But one day, things chance. A certain opportunity comes forwards for Regulus and his friends, and they would simply be fools not to take it. or, a Descendants AU

[ladyelissarose]

‘Caught In 🕸 Web’

This is my first chapter for this story, I hope you guys really like it. It’s my first time writing for the ATSV. So please, let me know if y’all are interested for more, or see something I need to correct. My inbox, messages, and taglist is open for y’all! Enjoy!🤟🏼🕸

Warnings: nothing really heavy yet, just some good information about my two OC’s. But all chapters will have their own warnings as things progress.

‘My Story’📰

Chapter 1

Setting;

In a particular universe of 2055, settles this story in New York City, that has its very own special features in it. Like the Statue of Liberty- no. Oh Time Square that’s around the corner- another no. Empire State Building- it’s nice but yeah.. no. What makes this NYC ‘The’ NYC is having the damn privilege of owning a Peter C. Parker- other known as Spider-Man (but no one knows that the nerdy guy that is a sweet roommate and crazy assistant of the assistant of the CEO for ‘Stark Industries’ is the ‘Strong, Red ‘n Blue suited hero that makes swinging off the skyscrapers look hotter that Brad Pitt) so yeah. *takes deep breath and sips ‘chai tea’* Anyways... this universe also possesses a certain woman with terrible ‘I have no family’ issues, crazy boss who bought her knee pads, and a secret admirer. Everyone called her ‘CEO’s Sidechick’ or the famous one ‘Bosses Pet’. But her name is actually Carla Ferrari. While the spider universe... had actually deemed her as Spider-Woman, or how a certain spider pal will call her that everyone picks up on- Spider-Lady. Yeahhh... I know- shut up.

Carla Ferrari’s POV

So let’s do this one time. My name, is Carla Ferrari- and no I’m not related to any Ferrari bloodline and shit. My Pa was Italian and my Ma was American.. that’s why I have the Italian last name. (Though I’d kill for one of those hot rides but yeah) So I’m a 22 yr. old personal assistant for the CEO of ‘Stark Industries’. Is it an exciting life? Not exactly, I have no background that’s exciting either- that’s for sure.

Quick back up story- I was orphaned after a large city catastrophe killed my parents *timeskip*

Then I lived all my life in homes here and there, never got adopted because I worked terribly with people and never got used to the term family *timeskip*

After that I got too old to stay at shelter homes for girls once I turned ‘Magnificent 18’ so I was given the boot and a nice paycheck that can barely cover 3 full days at a Motel 6 or 1 day at the most expensive hotel in New York City *timeskip*

So to survive I worked at the most expensive diner in Manhattan for 6 months until a certain rich bastard decided to spill his wine all over my white uniform, then suggested that a great apology would be for him to offer me a good job. Anyways, they say my charm is what got me under the wing of who is now my boss, the CEO of ‘Stark Industries’ but I have to say it’s my stealth, patience, and great mathematical skills that has me managing all his business purchases- oh and also how I methodically get everything done.

*timeskip to present*

“Shoot! B.P.!! (Aka Bosses Pet) I forgot to pick up Stark’s coffee at Starbucks on my way here!! Can you get it?? He’ll be happy to see you crawling in with it anyways-“

I flared my nose while slamming my file on the table wishing Leslie’s head was the table, I scoffed lightly while glaring,

“Why do you all keep saying things like- ‘crawling’ or ‘cat walking’ my way to boss’ office?-“

Leslie flipped her damaged and dry sweet potato colored looking hair as she squeaked while using bunny ears on certain words,

“Maybe it’s cause he got you ‘knee pads’!? Like yeah we get he’s the boss and your his personal assistant but damn don’t bring your ‘50 Shades of Stark’ here!”

She giggled like a hyena and mocked my disgusted face, which I expressed because after their latest Boss died, Tony Stark, they brought in his closest cousin who looked like the deceased version of him, and he was now my boss. But if Tony was still around... maybe I’d try to make that 50 shades shit happen.. but yeah not with Martin Stark. Ew.

Anyways I only took up her offer because I needed some fresh air after being stuck up on the 50th floor for 11 hours writing down appointments and managing Stark’s purchases that went through the roof for every girl he laid eyes on, trying to gain ‘Great Star Reviews’ for his business but more like he was gaining more ‘absent-fathered children’ as he was a playboy and irresponsible of course. Now I stood up and straightened my black checkered pants as I sighed lightly,

“Fine.. I’ll go get it.”

“What a good girl. Ha! Bet you hear that often-“

“Yeah well at least I’m not left dry and hanging all the time and called ‘Dusty Leslie’.”

Sending a cheeky wink I was walking away with a proud smirk and a held high chin. I heard her scoff in hurt as I of course stabbed her altered ego. I obviously overheard the gossip desk ladies chat about that she hadn’t been laid in a long while, so yeah... that’s why you don’t share your secrets and personal issues with people that are snakes in disguise, Dusty Leslie.

As you see, my life is sorta hectic, I quite practically live for my boss so I can get paid by making his life easier. All he has to do, is show up, eat, take a crap, mess with women, and sleep- repeat. And to be honest I’m a little jelly at the fact he never works, yet wears clothes that cost 10 times more than all the money I’ve ever spent and worked for combined! And I’m the one running back and forth, making appointments, fixing his vendettas at bars he likes to pick fights at, feed him breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks in between when he calls for it. And what ticks me off- is that half the time he won’t even eat it, he’ll leave it there for later (which turns to never) or complain saying he wasn’t hungry anymore because he didn’t like something about it.

So what would I do? Take it back saying sweet and professional things like, ‘I’m so sorry about the inconvenience sir let me fix it for you.’ ‘Let’s get you something else.’ Or the most used line- ‘Yes sir, I’ll call them and email a bad review for you.’

Ugh!! I hated doing that. These cooks did everything right, Martin was just a spoiled asshole that thought the world should revolve around him and run his way. (By the way I never wrote bad reviews I just said I would, so he wouldn’t bother them or me about it again.) And the food he left untouched, I’d take to Uncle Joey, the guy at the corner of the street who played with his little wooden drums all day for spare change. Seeing his smile made my day mostly sense he was eating fine cuisine 99% of the time.

Anyways, now I’m taking my 10 minute break to run to Starbucks to get his coffee, and in the meanwhile get something for myself, I haven’t eaten sense yesterday at lunch time- and it’s already 12:34pm today. The fresh air did me some good to relieve some tension, as I finally made it out of the tall hell house I called work or my job. What also lifted my spirits was this happy sight. It felt good to see happy and calm people around me, they all walked around and lived as if they knew nothing could hurt or touch them. And to be honest once again, they could. You know why? Spider-Man.

He made that possible, he helped in ways no one else could, from big things to small things, he gave up his time and life for the city, and so far it has paid off well. I admire the man much, he has inspired me to take what little time I have to make someone smile, or help where I could.

My best friend, assistant, and roommate, Peter C. Parker, always harmlessly made fun of how I lived to be like Spider-Man. Peter was a great guy by the way, and no matter how much he denied it when I told him, he had a big heart like Spider-Man. Always helping where he could and being a sunshine in my world. When my boyfriend wouldn’t be the nicest or leave me hanging after he promised he’d wait after work, Peter would invite me to the movies or do something that got the tears and pouts off my face. It was nice to have someone like him around, humble as heck with his heart on his sleeve, I wouldn’t trade my best friend for anything in the world.

He kept me on my feet and happy, reminding me of the good things in life even on the cloudy days. And like right now, in ‘all of a sudden’ moments when my boss and boyfriend Nelson would call unexpectedly at once, I could count on him to adapt to change and help me to the perfect ‘T’. Unlike my boss who went crazy if one thing went wrong or not his way. I could only let out a deep breath as I debated for a moment on who to answer first.

‘If I pick up Nelson’s he might just ask me out again and chat about his new modeling job, then my boss will be pissed for missing his call and might deducted $25 from my paycheck for every minute I don’t answer him. Or I could pick up boss’ call and hear him yell some kind of thing he wants me to do and make Nelson upset again for not picking up his call. Shit!! Ugh I hate this so bad.’

I declined Nelson’s call and texted a quick ‘sorry, give me a minute’ and picked up my boss’ call and mustered a fake, happy voice with professionalism.

‘I really hate this man- but I need my job. Sorry Nelson.’

“Yes, Mr.Stark?”

Peter C. (Carlos) Parker’s POV

Let’s do this one last time- I’m Peter Carlos Parker. As 20 yr old, I’m New York’s one and only Spider-Man, and did I love my life? So far I did. I’ve had bumps and bruises on the way, crazy lifesaving stories and sad ones too that match the scars I’ve grown to earn every time. No but honestly my life is manageable but still crazy, let me just tell you what happened today so you’ll see why I say so. So, I just got back into my jeans and white button down with the stupid crooked tie after I as Spider-Man handed over a dumb, bank thief to the cops. Yes, he tried to threaten everyone behind and in front of the counters, but thankfully I was there to take out $20 to get lunch at the hotdog stand outside of work. Anyways with that said, quickly I took him down after some arguing about how unprepared and wild his ‘stealing’ was.

Flashback-

“Sir! You realize they are going to track down your information with the ID you just gave the kind banker lady?”

I kid you not, he handed over his ID to the lady, claiming he was old enough to demand money- like what an idiot! He should’ve come in without the mask while he was at it right? Oh and if it wasn’t bad enough already, there was a large hole on the side of his makeshift bag. Like yeah Pinky you’re going to come out inanely rich for sure with that bag, let me know if we can go to Disneyland when you’re out- like c’mon!! But yeah, he went on to argue with me of course.

“She doesn’t know it’s me Spider-Man! I’m wearing a mask- like you, can’t you see!? I just need her to know that I’m old enough to do this!”

He angrily pointed at his paper bag mask, that he drew dark angry eyebrows on, trying to show me that indeed it was good. Oh and I could clearly tell his gun was a small nerf gun spray painted black. He’d definitely make it on the wall of ‘Stupids Hall of Fame’ As much as I would’ve liked to keep the debate going (because I knew I was going to win in the end) I knew my Boss- aka my best friend Carly was going to need my assistance soon, so I cut it short with some webbing. With a crack to my knuckles, I sighed,

“Alright, can’t wait to see your face on the news, but buy me a PS5 first.”

Phewt-Phewt!!

In seconds he was webbed up by the door.

I heard sighs of relief and a couple cheering while others cussed out the poor dummy. I then waved my hands calmly as I pointed out.

“You all are safe now, just called NYPD. Keep safe- I swinging out.”

With a peace sign given to a little kid by me I then disappeared. (I actually webbed away to the back, then walked out to the front watching the cops take my guy away. And he had his paper mask off by this point. But at least we all knew he was old enough to rob a bank, and that his name was Chad Robins.

-End of flashback.

I smiled with peace knowing he wasn’t going to be around for a while, scaring kids and the old ladies who are working hard to buy their little ones Christmas gifts. Up ahead I saw my favorite hotdog stand, I could smell the hot bacon-wrapped wieners from here

‘Talk about my heightened spider senses right!?’

But then something else caught my attention when I heard my name being called out.

‘Carly!!’

“Oh Peter!! Thank God I found you! Listen here’s $20. Get something to eat for yourself and get the triple chocolate mocha with 3 teaspoons of vanilla and 1 pinch of pumpkin spice with lactose free whip cream and some cinnamon sprinkled on top?”

I fixed my glasses after they almost slipped off my nose from me speedily scribbling down the crazy coffee order. That was of course Carly, (Carla Ferrari) who told me all of this. Not that I minded though, I was her personal helper. She requested for one after work got a little to much for her, but her boss wasn’t happy about having that happen, so I was paid through her paycheck. (What a stingy and evil boss huh? Oh and I’d always beg her to not pay me much, but she always gave up half of her paycheck anyways without hesitation or a problem)

When we first met I had just gotten out of college looking for a job, something easy to start with while I looked for a job that suited my passion for chemical engineering. And at the same time she was looking for help, so we made a deal to become roommates while I worked for her, sense the job was not too much, but for now it worked perfectly fine, and she was a great roommate too. Soon we of course became the best of friends, she gave me so much smart advice about the world and now dating tips. (Especially after I told her about my deep interests in the sweet florist Mary Jane- I’ll tell y’all about her later) Carly also had a great listening ear and healing words, even on her worst nights she made great company. Anyways, I took the $20 from her after she personally grabbed my hand and stuff the dollar bill in there and said,

“Use this money Peter, not yours. And get lunch- you haven’t eaten, I know you haven’t.”

I reluctantly took it as I sighed an excuse,

“But you haven’t either-“

She mindlessly fixed my tie as she interrupted,

“Don’t worry about me honey, worry about yourself. Now get please, boss needs me in his office, I just got off the phone with him before I saw you.”

I squeezed my pinky with hers, it was our ‘good luck’ ‘good bye’ and ‘good day’ sign.

“Oh!”

But this time, I felt an electric shock run through me from where we touched, and I felt waves surround me for a split second before it stopped completely. I know she felt it too for her eyes went wide, but she shook it off as quickly as it had happened.

Then she sent me a small smile and a wink before running in her high heels back to the office. I chuckled with confusion as I looked at my black shoes thinking,

‘Everyday I admire women more.. I could never run in heels.. I wonder what that was by the way… it felt weird. But with a sense of familiarity?’

For now I shook it off as she did. Taking a moment I was looking up and around at the lively city I could only breathe in and out calmly, the people looked happy, peaceful, and it all appeared to be still for now. It’s been about a couple of months ever sense I fought a life-threatening villain, KingPin. But thankfully we’ve been ok for now, if not almost too perfect.

Miguel O’Hara’s POV

Bueno, Lets do this, one last time, my name is Mig-

“Miggggyyyy! Omg you’ve been eyeballing’ 2055 universe for the past 2 weeks already?! You got some interest on Peter C. Parker- it’s ok you can tell me!!”

‘Ay coño… another time I’ll introduce myself.’

Running a hand down my face I argued lazily,

“No Lyla I don’t. I’m straight-“

“Are you? Look at your hunched over posture, certainly it’s not straight-

“That doesn’t determine my sexuality though!-“

“It could-“

“Lyla. No. I’m just.. just checking something out. So please.”

Sometimes Greta Lee aka Lyla can get on my nerves with her ideas, I mean, who would’ve that an AI would be so stubborn and determined on certain ideas? Like her only job is to gather up information about tech or any universal catastrophes. Yet here she is trying to decipher what my sex is by the way I’m standing. Que dolor de cabeza. But I was being honest about this... this universe 2055 that’s been on my watch for the past few days.

Something about it has intrigued my mind and drawn my attention to it strongly, unlike any other universe. I don’t have spider senses perhaps, but I do have suspicions and a gut that tells me things. So I considered checking it out, passing by in person to see if I perhaps caught something off that I could probably call P.C.P. (Peter Carlos Parker) on. I’ve never personally met him before or even thought of intruding into his place or giving him more as far as letting him into the multiverse, he handled what he had very well so far on his own. It was his universe anyways, and to be honest he did his absolute best at guarding it and protecting it. His every breath was spent on saving the city and a change during a blink of his eye wouldn’t go unnoticed, he’d sense and act upon it. He was what I called, ‘Gentle-Spider’. His heart for the community was larger than New York itself.

Yes, he had his typical hero side that was rough and sharp, effortlessly taking down who needed to be put down, but after that? He’d walk the old ladies across the street, have late night dinners with random joes who were alone and homeless, play with the neighborhood kids, he even taught a few teenagers how to parallel park. All this I have witnessed and couldn’t admire him more.

His only job as a Spider-Man was to defend the city from villains and anomaly’s... but P.C.P.? He made the city a brighter place day and night, 24/7, he gave New York his heart and every breath he took was spent on them. His regular life though, behind the mask, he was the same, caring and kind. Just more quiet and a bit shy. The only one I saw him communicate well with was his roommate. She was just as kind. I never really looked into her, all I knew was that she made him breakfast everyday and wore high heels 99% of the time- oh and he’d call her Carly.

I don’t think she knew about Peter’s secret life, only because she had a crazy schedule herself, she was the main and personal assistant of CEO Martin Stark. So yeah, her life was basically a mess and busy. But I’ve seen her a few times around too, doing careless acts to protect people. Careless why? She thought of others before herself. Ella me asusta a veces.

She literally almost gone run over the other day just because she tried to retrieve a baby doll that a little girl dropped as her mother carried her across the street. To save the homeless guy’s kitten she went down to the tracks of the subway to get its paw unstuck from when it fell, and seconds before that damn thing made her a tortilla, she was able to get out with the kitten clinging onto her for life. She’s also convinced people to not jump off the Brooklyn Bridge. Supongo que sé más sobre su vida de lo que pensaba.

Anyways she had a busy life too, but when she had a few seconds to spare, she gave it to others. I guess she looked up to Spider-Man a lot, and chose to be like him, a good person. But today, I saw and caught something that was off, and electric and dimensional shock went through both of them. And according to canon, he’s the only Spider-Man, and she was only supposed to be like his best friend. That’s it. So what was that all about? It looked all too familiar from our last incident with Miles Morales.. I just hoped it wasn’t the same or much worse, if not unfixable. And why did it make me feel- nervous?

Spanish translations

1- Que dolor de cabeza. - What a headache.

2- Ella me asusta a veces.- She scares me sometimes.

3- Supongo que sé más sobre su vida de lo que pensaba. - I guess I know more about her life than I thought I did.

[lovecatsys]

okay since everything except for Uncanny Spider-Man is out now I'm gonna go ahead and give my reviews of Fall of X so far

First off, Immortal and Red continue to be masterpieces, no surprises there, both books however are clearly taking a turn in a different direction and I'm loving it for both of them.

Jean Grey is not what I expected it to be at all, but still an amazing character study of Jean, I expected nothing less from Simonson of course.

Invincible Iron Man and X Men are decent, not a fan of exactly whats going on with Kate, the Emma stuff is great though. Kamala should not be in this book. I hate the avengers by default but I don't exactly hate whats going on between Emma and Tony, though that might change. The "wedding" is going to be exactly what I expected it would be of course. Overall not Duggan's worst writing but I don't love it.

Uncanny Avengers is... meh, so far, Pietro is super OOC which is :/ but maybe he'll get some more focus later on, god I hope he does. But it's frustrating how little effort is going into portraying him as a visible person of color when a much greater effort is going into his sister. Monet used her telepathy which gives me hope for her! I'm down for more of her teaming up with Kwannon tbh, they make a good team.

Astonishing Iceman is a bit of an anomoly to me. It's very good writing so far, I'm loving how Orlando writes Bobby, but I'm really pissed that they've chosen to stick with Romeo as his love interest after he got aged up just to come back and fuck Bobby and for them to throw Christian to the side. No mention of Christian at all at the hellfire gala, Emma is not concerned with where he is like she is with the Cuckoos which :/. I'm honestly afraid he's being dropped as a character which fucking sucks. The thing I hate the most about how Romeo is there is that Christian could literally be in his place and it would be perfect to me. He has a power set that could absolutely work for this situation just how Romeo's is working! Who knows, maybe this relationship will grow on me. We'll see.

Alpha Flight is really good, I haven't delved into the world of AF comics yet but from everything I know it seems perfect. My man was only there for two seconds in the first issue but we'll see if he gets any panel time as it goes on. Even if he doesn't though, yeah I'll be a little pissed but it'll still probably be a good read, and at least he'll have made any appearance at all since Marauders. Oh and Puck making fun of his new codename was funny. Fang really is a dumb name.

X-Force is still garbage, but this weird plot twist with Quentin (whatever it is??) has me gritting my teeth. fucking get your hands off my boy Percy he does not deserve this. Curious to see whats going on with the Colossus plotline, just wish it was happening in a better book.

Children of the Vault is amazing, never cared for Bishop and haven't read much Cable yet but I'm still all in on it. One of those books where you don't have to care much for the characters to recognize its quality. also fun fact: its written by the comic writing mentor of my comic writing mentor. lol

Dark X-Men wasn't as good as I had hoped it would be, but its still good. Though it kinda feels like it has too many characters in it so far, I'm loving the Maddie content and it had some great dark humor in it. LOVED the children of the atom bits, im so curious whats going to go down with Carmen and I'm just glad her friends and her relationship with Buddy got some panel time tbh.

last and the actual best: Realm of X was SO FUCKING GOOD. I've had a little soft spot in my heart for Curse since her story started in X-Men Green, and it seems like she's going to be a huge part of this arc rather than just tagging along as a little kid which is great. Sooraya fucking stole the show, this new take on her power signature is amazing. In general love all these women (Typhoid Mary is growing on me, I'm going to call the awful things she's done that made me want to hate her poor writing choices, especially since shes a survivor of such acts in the first place.) SO curious with what's going on with Yana, and I love how devoted she is to keeping Curse safe. DID NOT expect Saturnyne to be the main villain but im down for it tbh. This book is my favorite already and i just cant wait for hte next issue!

[tenaciouspostfun]

  "Doubt" originally played at the Manhattan Theatre Club before transferring to the Walter Kerr Theatre in 2005. The play won both the Pulitzer Prize for Drama as well as the Tony Award for Best Play. In 2008, "Doubt was made into a movie that starred Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams and Meryl Streep. The original play would star Brian F. O'Byrne and Cherry Jones.This parable takes place in 1964, in the Bronx at a Catholic grade school where most of the students are Italian and Irish. Writer John Patrick Shanley (Moonstruck) brings forth what Catholic School was like back in the 60's... the regiment, the rules and its codes.

 In this version of the play we get a great eye catching set by David Rockwell. This turnstile set keeps the audience engaged for the intermission-less 90 minutes, as do the actors. Between sister Aloysius (Amy Ryan) office, the courtyard and various other settings, Rockwell has designed a beauty; Tony Award for best set beauty.

 Brilliantly directed by Scott Ellis both Amy Ryan and Zoe Kazan as Sister James steal the show. As the elder states-lady in Sister Aloysius and the naive, innocent Sister James the two work and blend so well together that it  brings the audience back to the days when Kennedy was just assassinated and the Bronx was still a vibrant place to live. Linda Cho's costumes too bring the reality to the times Even though much of the costumes are traditional Catholic dress, Cho captures it well.

 The plot line is a serious one, accusations by the principal has cast an accusing light on Father Flynn (Liev Schreiber), the priest and gym teacher at St. Nicholas School. With little to go by, Sister Aloysius through Sister James has called Father Flynn on the carpet about a young colored boy,  Donald Muller, the only non white at the school. She believes that Father Flynn has sexually assaulted the boy. Aloysius believes that Flynn has targeted him because he is a loner, weak and vulnerable. The audience has to make up its mind as to whether Flynn is compassionate or a predator; whether the principal is to rigid and cold hearted.The two consistently butt heads, Flynn is progressive and Aloysius is by-the- book in rules and decorum; she has no problems telling people exactly what's on her mind. The interaction between Ryan and Schreiber too is good, however, Schreiber's acting goes in and out throughout the play. Strong at times and weak at times, his performance wavers. What also wavers is the lighting (Kenneth Posner), has to many halos around the actors faces. I am not sure if it was the lighting or the makeup. Zoe Kazan for most of the show looked like she had a red nose from a cold, but that was not the case, it was the lights that distorted her face, which may be due to makeup blending with the lighting.

 "Doubt" at the newly renamed Todd Haimes Theatre is a strong melodrama and a resonate play that will no doubt be up for Best Revival come Tony Time!

#Broadway Bob www.triviscompanies.com

[starcchild]

Your oc your choice! But since you asked.. maybe it's just me and my brainrot with hero x villain dynamics in media lol but I would love Carterio being canon in the main verse and I do think it could work, cuz the thing about Quentin is that he knows how to be sweet and likeable.. until his brain decides its time for homicide/genocide LMAO. The problem is that Tony would object if he ever found out, he would warn her and I think Carter would listen to her father, so the ship wouldn't sail. (1/2)

(2/2) What I don't see tho is Quentin dating her to get a job or level up at SI - not because he wouldn't do that, because he absolutely would, but because he doesn't need to. As terrible as he is (which is why he makes a good villain) he is intellectualy gifted and no amount of evilness can take that away from him. Before Tony did The Thing, maybe Quentin would simply want to date her because she's nice, pretty and they both speak Genius? IDK man but I will go down with this ship 😫😫💔

((exactly!! That's why I love him despite being a giant asshole sdfgkhjdfsh - he's a strong character and ngl I'm bummed they tossed him as quickly as they did, but, I am glad he actually had a lasting impact instead of,,, disappearing,,, like Obadiah did,,, I'm not salty dgsfjhkgsfdjh

also under the readmore because I rambled sfdjgfsd

aNYWAY, so I don't think Tony would object if this is before Quentin works for SI, just because there's no reason for him to have any red flags since he never met him. But, yeah, otherwise Carter would absolutely listen to Tony, but she'd also make her own opinions on the matter - like, with Pietro, we all know Tony is not happy about it (which I mean,,, kinda fair sdkjhfsdj), but while Carter has heard him out on it, she isn't gonna be breaking up with Pietro over it, because she knows who Pietro is. With Quentin, the issue comes with his manipulation, sooo I could see it going either way! I think it depends on the situation and how long she'd been with him and all that jazz

and, for the SI job thing, I mentioned it because I can see him hoping for some good ol' nepotism to kick in lol, but yeah he definitely doesn't need to like. hang his whole hope of getting into SI on it. So he would definitely be into her, but it'd kinda be a mix of factors of him wanting to be with her.

but, I do wanna say, I did think about it some more, and I think I'm just gonna scrap the idea of them dating in college and keeping it as an alt verse thing, since I do have a plan of how that would work out jhfdsj - they'd start dating like,,, maybe four years post-iw? And they would've met before then and been friends (with Quentin befriending her to try and get to Tony, and later dating her for the same reason since Tony would've pulled the BARF thing by then), and with Carter wanting to take things slow in a relationship, she's not one to really start talking about her partner until things progress and they're both comfortable with being in a relationship (like, outside testing the waters). She tells Tony she's seeing someone, but, doesn't say who it is! So Tony can't sit her down and lay things out from what he knows of Quentin. She does this because Quentin asked her to, and she didn't see any problems with this, because Quentin seemed freaked out as in "holy shit your dad is Iron Man I don't wanna die" and not "your dad stole my tech and fired me and I hate his guts and don't want him figuring out my plans". She does start getting a little suspicious as he keeps it up for however long they're together because they're serious at that point and she would like to introduce her dad to Quentin because of it, but she also wants to respect Quentin's wishes. Also, there's a quote I've seen floating around tumblr from boj.ack hor.seman (I haven't watched the show, btw, so idk the full context), where one of the character's says, "You know, it's funny. When you look at someone through rose-colored glasses, all the red flags just look like flags.", and that absolutely applies to Carter in this scenario.

anyway, their relationship goes on for about a year? maybe a lil less? but before Carter can sit him down and really dig into the issue of him refusing to meet her father/let her talk about him to her father, eg happens. Tony dies, or maybe not (I don't,,, have strong feelings - it's just an open option for threads since I ignored eg as is sfdjhgfsd), so that absolutely gets pushed aside because Carter has bigger problems going on. Quentin also has problems, because either Tony's dead or hella out of commission, and his plans are just,,, falling apart. He and Carter start fighting over various things, and their relationship starts falling apart. Carter ends up leaving because his temper absolutely starts scaring her, and then Quentin does all his shit as Mysterio and whatnot. Same motive to overrun Tony's legacy to get back at him for BARF and all that, just a deviation beforehand.

[buckysimp101]

Love at First Grade (18+) - 11

Single Dad!Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader; Teacher!Bucky x CEO!Reader

chapter warnings: fluff

a/n: the reactions to this fic make my heart SO happy! Thank you to everyone for reading! We have at least 9 more chapters to go, (at least!) and I look forward to sharing it with y’all!

Series Masterlist

January

To say that Winnifred Barnes was excited to hear the news that you and Bucky were dating was an understatement. The woman was ecstatic. Bucky swore she was going to take an ad out in the newspaper with how excited she was. Even though you and Bucky assured her that it was still fairly new and that the two of you were interested to see where it would lead. Winnie just brushed the two of you off as she pulled you into a tight hug, kissing you both on the cheek and leaving her signature red lipstick stain in its place. She had even told Avery that she could call her Nana and not Mrs. Winnie if she wanted, that seemed to bring tears to both your eyes. Of course Avery had started calling Winnie ‘Nana’ that very second.

You and Bucky didn’t have to necessarily hide on your dates anymore, especially not from your family and friends, but you wanted to keep it away from the press for just a little longer. Tony had a gala he was hosting for all of Stark Industries’ investors and partners coming up in February and he had invited you and Bucky. That’s where you planned to officially tell the world about the two of you. You both knew it would be a high-coverage event and it would allow you to be more in control of the story. It also gave the two of you a little more private time to just bask in that new relationship glow. 

Avery and Becca LOVED that the two of you were dating. They’d graduated from calling the two of you Mr. Bucky and Ms. Y/N, to just Bucky and Y/N, obviously Bucky was still Mr. Barnes while Avery was in his class. What excited the girls most was the number of sleepovers they got to have. When the two of you were sneaking around you each hosted a sleepover or two that led to more than a few longing gazes as the other came to pick up their daughter but now all of you got to have a sleepover. The first time that Becca and Avery found out that Bucky would be staying at your place too? The squeals erupted as they told him he could play horsey with them, and they’d have a tea party, and he could be the King and you could be the Queen. That night after the girls had gone to bed, the two of you laid awake for hours. Occasionally making out, never going so far as to actually have sex, you weren’t quite ready to risk that with two nosey girls just down the hall, but the pillow talk led to some interesting reveals.

For example, you told Bucky that your favorite color was blue like his eyes, he’d blushed at that. He told you his was green, like the color of the sweater you wore at Avery’s birthday dinner, you blushed at that. You revealed your birthdays to each other, after realizing you hadn’t talked about it before, and Bucky was pleasantly surprised to find out yours would be easy to remember. August 3rd was a special day after all, seeing as it was Becca’s birthday too. You both knew the six year old would get a kick out of that when she found out. You shamed him for not telling you that his birthday was in just a couple months and told him that the two of you would definitely celebrate it, a wicked wink, a promise of another raunchy night to come, thrown in his direction. 

It wasn’t until the girls went back to school after winter break that some drama made its way back into your lives. You received a call one day from Bucky that Avery had been involved in a tussle alongside Becca and that you’d have to come in for a parent-teacher conference with the other parent. It was also your first time learning about the incident with Ethan back on the first day of school, Becca, Avery and Bucky stuck to a strict “snitches get stitches code” apparently. When you finally huffed your way into Bucky’s class at the end of the day he could tell that you’d had a long day at work and that you were hoping he’d been joking about the conference. Bucky frowned at the look on your face, he’d have to help you get rid of it later, especially since he wasn’t truly upset with Becca or Avery.

Your eyes caught on Avery and Becca sitting close to each other, Steve sitting at the head of the circle, and Ethan and his mother, the woman who’d put on the fake breathy voice that first day of school. 

“You’re late, Ms. L/N,” the woman snapped, shaking her head to get her hair out of her eyes. Alyssa looked quickly at Bucky, almost as if she was waiting for his praise at her quick mouth, but his frown only deepened as it slowly turned into a scowl. A twin look appeared on your face almost immediately and that’s when Bucky saw it. The same look he received after your first night together, the same look Dot got when she tried talking to you all those months ago, and the same look he knew you gave annoying businessman as they groveled at your feet for help. Bucky couldn’t lie, while he never wanted to be on the receiving end of that glare ever again it turned him on beyond belief.

“You run a Fortune 500 company every day and you’d be, let’s see here,” you looked at your watch hastily, “a minute late too, Ms… I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name,” you retorted before having a seat in the open spot next to Avery and Steve, not even bothering to pay attention to Ethan’s mom giving you a truly wicked look and trying to give you her name.

“Thank you for joining us, Ms. L/N, I know how hard it can be with your work schedule ramping up and we really appreciate you making it,” Bucky said, laying it on extra thick to make sure you could pick up on the slight sarcasm and silent wish that he’d make it alllll up to you. You nodded your head and crossed your leg as you looked at Steve to start. Steve began by telling you what he had been told of the situation and he then gave each of the kids the chance to talk about what had happened.

Becca took the reigns for most of the girls’ side and she told everyone that she and Avery had been playing on the playground at recess when Ethan had come up and started picking on Avery, specifically how small she was, and it ended in Ethan pushing Avery, where she lost her balance and landed on the ground hard, scraping up her legs in the process. And of course Becca wasn’t going to let that slide. So in true Barnes fashion, Becca had shouted, “why don’t you pick on somebody your own size, Ethan and leave us alone!” Ethan took that to mean he should pick on Becca and he went to push her down by the six year old moved quicker. She stomped on his foot, yet again, and pushed him down instead. Before Becca had even finished her story Ethan’s mom was practically in hysterics about how Avery started it and how she should be punished and that Becca should be grounded for her actions.

If there was one thing Bucky Barnes hated, besides a bully, it was someone trying to tell him how to parent his child. But Bucky let Ethan tell his side of the story, and for a first grader with some obvious issues against those smaller than him, he more or less corroborated Becca and Avery’s stories. But you and Bucky didn’t react the same way Alyssa had. Instead, you remained quiet as Bucky reacted. “Alyssa, one thing you are not going to do, is tell me how to parent or discipline my child. I have always taught Becca to stand up against a bully, and in my eyes that’s exactly what she did. This isn’t the first time Ethan has attempted to hurt Avery, either emotionally or physically, and I will not see it happen again.”

The tone in his voice must have done something to Alyssa because she straightened her back and pushed her arms tight together, as if she were trying to make her cleavage more noticeable. You almost snorted at the action, and covered it with a cough and a cover of your hand over your mouth. Bucky’s eyebrows raised at your reaction, before Alyssa was talking to him.

“James, I didn’t mean to suggest that you couldn’t parent Becca, I just think…if she had more of a…woman’s presence around, she’d be less likely to react in such a way. And I am more than willing to help,” there went that fake breathy voice and the use of his first name again, this time coupled with a low blow. Bucky’s teeth clenched and he swore he saw your eyes alight with…was that jealousy? Along with the tightening of your jaw and the crossing of your arms. So Bucky assessed the situation, and did what any sane man would do.

“You are way out of line, Ms. Williams. I think, no I know that I have done a perfectly fine job raising Becca, and she’s definitely not wanting for ‘a woman’s presence’ as you so delicately put. Baby, what do you think?” Bucky directed the last question to you, purposely outing your relationship to this woman who’d been openly flirting with him moments before. When he met your eyes he didn’t see the anger anymore, only amusement, and he knew he’d said the right thing.

You uncrossed your arms and nodded at Bucky, an amused smirk before adding, “Oh I agree completely, sweetheart. Becca stood up for Avery and I will be forever grateful for their friendship. And she is definitely not lacking in the ‘woman’s presence’ department. Teach your son not to be a bully, Ms. Williams. Or maybe you need some lessons in that yourself?” You spat in her direction before looking at Steve as if to say ‘are we done?’ You missed the look of disbelief on Alyssa’s face at the reveal of your relationship. Steve knew better than to get on your bad side and so he told Alyssa that Ethan would receive a week of indoor time instead of recess for his actions, and that Becca would receive a day for her reaction. Ethan whined about his punishment but the girls new better than to be vocal about it to their parents, knowing that Becca had gotten off easy. You nodded your head and went to speak quietly with the girls. Bucky couldn’t hear what you were saying but Alyssa just glowered in your direction before turning her attention to Bucky. He could tell she was ready to lay into him but as her mouth opened you snuck up behind him, wrapping your arm around his waist to pull him close to you.

“I trust if you need those manners lessons you’ll let me know, right Ms. Williams?” You questioned with a sickeningly sweet tone as you cut your eyes in her direction, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. You smirked and motioned for the girls to come to you, your signal that it was time to go, and the girls immediately flocked to your legs before saying a goodbye to Steve and leaving Alyssa and Ethan speechless in his office.

When the four of you were out of view and earshot you leaned down to give the girls a big hug, before looking at Becca and thanking her for sticking up for Avery. Becca puffed her little chest out and responded, “it’s what we do for our friends.”

It really is like looking in a mirror…or maybe a time machine, Bucky thought himself before you were laughing at her confidence and wrestling the six year old into a huge hug. “That’s my girl,” you gushed after mussing up Becca’s hair, the six year old letting out a squeal as you peppered kisses over her face. 

Bucky didn’t even have time to hear Avery’s protests about how she wanted kisses and hugs because he was still stuck on that one sentence. Those three words falling from your lips. “That’s my girl,” repeated in Bucky’s head a million times over. It felt like his whole world had frozen as the sentence kept echoing as Bucky focused on you and your affection and attention towards Becca. It was the same affection and attention you gave Avery, and the same affection and attention you gave him behind closed doors. And suddenly, a train of thought was entering Bucky’s head at breakneck speeds, the platform approaching closer and closer until his mind supplied him with, “I am so in love with this woman.” The realization halting Bucky’s movement even further. 

You and the girls started walking away from him, almost in slow motion, and it wasn’t until you noticed that Bucky wasn’t following you that you turned around and looked at him, one eyebrow raised questioningly as you asked him, “babe, you coming? We’re gonna take the girls to Ellie’s for sticking up for each other, my treat.” 

A little lopsided grin accompanied the nod of his head. Oh yeah, Bucky Barnes was definitely in love.

February

The Stark gala made Bucky nervous. While he knew that he loved you, he hadn’t told you yet. But here you were, announcing your relationship for the world to see. All your friends knew, partially because they’d been there the night everything had started, and your families of course. But the rest of the world? Bucky wasn’t so sure it was something he was ready for but you had assured him this was the best way to get in front of the story and keep it in check. As Bucky sat in the backseat of your car on the way to the gala venue, he couldn’t help but fiddle with his bowtie and take deep breaths. You rubbed your hand in soothing circles on his thigh, your touch calming him down slightly.

“You’re gonna be great, sweetheart. It’ll all be fine,” you whispered as you attempted to soothe his anxiety. Bucky was about to answer when the car pulled to a stop and your driver Stan called out, “alright lovebirds, we’re here! Knock ‘em dead!”

You took one last look at Bucky, making sure he was good to go, and with a nod of affirmation, the two of you exited the vehicle to the blinding strobe lights of camera flashes. As the two of you made your way to the venue’s entrance you were bombarded by questions asking who you were wearing, what company  your next big investment was going to be with, and who you had on your arm. You answered all the questions with ease and when you go to the one about Bucky you smoothly slid you arm around his waist and announced that he was your partner. That led to more flashes and to the crowd getting louder as they asked how long the two of you had been together and other questions about your relationship. You briefly answered the questions with very little details, only giving them the need to know answers, and the two of you were quickly ushered inside. 

The gala went by smoothly. You and Bucky had a few drinks and a few dances and occasionally the two of you entertained others. Sam and Tony both took you for a spin around the dance floor at one point and Bucky was seen dancing with Wanda and Pepper as well. At the bar Sam and Tony had practically threatened Bucky that if he hurt you or ever break your heart he’d have to answer to them, something in Bucky’s gut told him to take that threat seriously. After only being at the gala for two hours you were itching to leave. Bucky didn’t know what had gotten into you, you had been looking forward to the gala since Tony announced it just after Christmas. But sure enough, by 9:00 you were saying your goodbyes and making your way through the venue to your car, towing Bucky along by the hand. 

As you waited for Stan, Bucky saw you shiver, you’d made the decision to not wear a jacket with your dress tonight because “it would throw off the whole vibe, James,” but Bucky could tell you were cold and so he took off his tuxedo jacket and wrapped it over your shoulders. You offered your thanks by standing on your toes and pressing a warm kiss to his lips, the couple of remaining paparazzi caught it if the flashing lights and clicks of their cameras said anything. When Stan pulled up with the car Bucky was opening the door and ushering you inside the warmth of the vehicle. As the two of you headed to his place, where Winnie was babysitting the girls, you leaned your head on his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his cologne and snuggling into his warmth. 

Your perfume invaded Bucky’s senses and it made him want to kiss you senseless but he held back for Stan’s sake. He took your hand in his, rubbing circles on the back of it with his thumb, before asking, “what made you want to get out of the gala so fast tonight, honey? You’d been looking forward to it for months.”

You turned your head to look at Bucky before the smallest tinge of embarrassment crossed your face. You shrugged your shoulders and replied, “I guess I just missed our girls is all, figured if we got out early we’d be home to them before bedtime.”

There was that possessive again. “Our girls.” Bucky’s heart froze again at the words as a shy smile crossed your lips and a lopsided dorky grin took over his. He knew then. He knew he was absolutely in love with Y/N M/N L/N, and he’d do everything in his power to prove when the time was right.

taglist (to be added just let me know! a * means couldnt be tagged!):

@youlightmeupfinn

@la-undercover-latina

@jackiehollanderr

@fab-notfat

@galaxy-dusk

@asoftie4bucky

@fangirlvoice

@queenbeecandi*

@babyevansblog

@stevihj

@sherlockstrangewolf

@notavintagecliche

@justsomebodyweird*

@katiecg

@wintasssoldier

@snufflet

@buckrecs

@missvelvetsstuff

@selluequestrian

@dhoruwolfie

@winters1917

@crazyunsexycool

@fangirling-galore

@emmarablack13

@some-lovely-day

[atlas-of-the-universe]

Causing a Scene

Word Count: 20k, so it’ll take around an hour to read in full. 

Warnings: MA-rating. Mentions of sex (nothing major until the end), minor creepy dude pinching a butt but you show him, so don’t worry LOL 

Pure unadulterated romantic Loki falling for a mortal. Some protective Loki, lots of teasing.

Authors Note: I genuinely need to make an apology for how long it’s been taking me to chug out some things. I’ve promised you guys over and over again that I would get things out on a certain time, but life and circumstance has made it so that’s becoming quite difficult. I’ll discuss that in an upcoming post. I really hope you guys don’t mind how long it took. It’s a chunk of words. But I worked kinda hard on this one and made sure it was perfect before releasing, unlike my last fic LOL. I also need to mention @writingfics-passingtime​ and @just-another-blog-of-fluff​ for not only encouraging me through this, but giving me ideas and pointers as of how to go about it. They are genuinely not only some of the best authors here, but amazing people in general. Please go check out their work, they have MASTERPIECES. But without further ado, a fic that took me literally 4 months to write. 

<3

   The mirror in front of you seemed to mimick your movements instead of portraying them, as its job entailed. Truthfully told, it didn't look like you. Although you had worn dresses before in your life, this felt wildly different than those times. The past consisted of holiday treats and cheap decorations, a newer, plastic-ey feeling dress purchased from the dusty corners of the discount section. That, or an at-home birthday party that required you to buy an economical cocktail dress that felt way too tight on your shoulders. But this...this was a new feeling. 

It had been almost a year since you joined the Avengers, and your physical tone revealed the difference of an entire year's worth of training. Your arms had become thinner and more muscular, and the same could be said about your legs, you noticed as you turned your hips to look at yourself in the mirror. The dress you wore swayed along with your movements, the red sparkles of the fabric already coating your room in a light dusting of shimmers. The chiffon draped to the floor elegantly, the wine color a stark difference against the light-colored carpet of your room. The material separated into two pieces on the skirt's right half, the slit of fabric combining again mid-thigh. Hugging perfectly to your waist, the dress's bodice was dotted in tiny rhinestones of the same merlot hue. Today, you were taller than you usually were as well, your height being exaggerated about four inches by the heels you wore that were just a shade lighter than your skin. It was the first time you had seen yourself in something so elegant in a long time. Long enough that it was difficult to recognize yourself in the mirror. 

Tony was bright enough to not have the fundraiser at the Avengers compound. Having unknown faces in unfamiliar places was too precarious. Everyone who knew about the compound needed to be known and kept track of; otherwise, the team's lives would be put in jeopardy. He decided to hold it at a shockingly large banquet hall in New York City that had a stringent dress code. You could only imagine the cost. Luckily the price didn't bother him enough to hesitate on purchasing the team their formal attire for the evening. The fact that he had personally picked this dress out for you skeeved you out just a tad, but you had to admit, he had done an exceptional job. A billionaire knows what billionaires would like, you supposed. What better way of getting other billionaires to donate to charity than having America's heroes look their sharpest? 

"Well, well, well," Natasha crooned from the doorway, practically appearing out of thin air with a playful smile on her face. She had a bandage dress close to the color of yours but brighter, hugging her figure down to just below her knees. Tight sleeves extended from the deep v-neck, coating her arms in rich velvet. Her hair was expertly curled into thick and wide waves, auburn hair complimenting the color of her outfit. She looked stunning. "Who are you, and what have you done with (Y/N)?"

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, albeit the fact that you agreed with her. You fiddled with your dress's sleeve that ended just at the edge of your wrist. Although you knew how beautiful you looked, some part of you didn't feel like yourself in the dress. The way you were just allowed to be a part of such a prestigious group of individuals felt the slightest bit fraudulent. You were the newest. "I know," you said, glancing up at her. "I don't even look like myself."

Natasha knew you better than you thought she did. She stepped into the room, the sound of her own heels being muffled by the carpet. She put her hands on your shoulders gently, and you followed instinctually to face her. She took your wrist, folding back the thin sleeve a little, and repeated her actions on the other hand as well. "It's a part of the job," Natasha stated, steeling her face into the cold agent she was just for a second before softening her features again. "You're still saving lives. The funds from tonight are going to help the Sokovian victims for a long time." She smoothed her hands along the outside of your arms, checking you over before stepping back again. 

"But a dance?" you complained. "I'm an Avenger. I can't dance."

"It comes easier than you think. There's always some guy with an ego big enough to dance with a pretty girl."

"Oh? Does Bruce even have an ego?"

"Watch it," Natasha warned, a knowing smirk playing at her lips. "He's a scientist. They all do." She took a step back to admire how well you cleaned up, nodded, and walked back to the door frame. Her heels clicked against the metal of the bunker floors, and she turned around to face you. "The limo leaves in fifteen. You should finish up whatever you're doing." 

"Wait," you called as she turned her head to face you. "I guess Wanda's not coming tonight, then?"

"No," Natasha said solemnly. "This would have been too much for her." 

As the sight of Natasha grew dim down the corridor, you found yourself alone with your imagination once again. You had been formally invited to several different fundraisers before, but nothing entirely of this caliber. Thinking about it, it seemed you were the only one who had not attended a fancy party among the team. Natasha's words rang out in your head; it's a part of the job. Even the non-earthlings would be attending, and they've had their fair share of fancy parties, considering they were from royalty. Speaking of the brothers, you made a mental note to tell Natasha about Thor's plan to ask her to dance so she wasn't caught off guard. Even though she was the most confident one on the team (aside from Tony), she still was just as human as the rest of us. The image of it made you chuckle. Thor dancing with Natasha, what a sight that would be. But who would you dance with? The barren truth was that you had little idea what you were doing. 

You peaked in the mirror one last time, fixing your hair and wobbling on your heels to the door. The hard surface was easier to walk on, but still, it took you a second to catch your footing. It was nearing midday, so the sun was high, the compound windows fluttering with the speckled light of the leaves falling to the Earth. Fall in New York seemed to last longer than any other season, especially upstate. As you walked, you laced in a trial of a confident strut, swinging your hips with a little more intent than usual. It felt unnatural, so you stopped and continued down the halls to where the limousine was waiting for you. 

The clicking of your heels called to your attention as you stepped into the compound lobby through large double doors. The team was grouped in the center of the room, a stark (pun intended) difference from the maintenance crew and office outfits scattered amongst the room. The team was standing in a messy circle. However, most of them were carried off in their own conversations, their eyes occasionally darting up to scan their surroundings as a habit from years of training. Natasha was amongst them, catching your eye as you stepped through the doors. Her arms were crossed, the color of her dress complimenting the fiery shade of lipstick she had applied in the short time from when you had seen her.  You cleared your throat and smoothed out the front of your own, walking up to the cluster of agents. The closer you got, the harder your heart pounded. Although you weren't nervous around the team, you found yourself feeling a little out of place. The anxiety of how people would perceive you rushed around in your head, and suddenly, the dress felt all too tight. 

As Natasha's gaze caught your own, Bruce turned his head to follow her stare. His features softened upon seeing you, and he smiled. "(Y/N)," he said as you approached. "You look great."

You breathed a hollow laugh and dipped your head, your gait slowing a bit. "Thanks," you said with a small smile. Even though you had integrated yourself into the group, the feeling of isolation settled back into your bones as Bruce and Natasha resumed their conversation. You weren't offended, of course, but you knew that these types of things came effortlessly to them, and if they didn't, they didn't show it. The air of confidence radiating around every one of them was impressive, if not intimidating. Thor, Tony, Steve, and Natasha all had their natural certainty about them but were joined by the rest of the team in their outfit-encouraged assurance. You had to admit, you could understand why. The crew cleaned up remarkably well, and their actions mimicked the fancy quality of their clothes. Even Peter looked more confident than he usually did. Pepper, who was dressed in a brilliant blue sheath dress, adjusted the knot of his tie closer to his neck as Tony patted him on the back a little too hard and said something to him, but the insistent chatter in the broad space made it difficult to hear.  There was a chittering of laughter off to the side; Thor emphasized a particularly boisterous point with his arms as he told Clint, Steve, and Bucky a joke. But still, there was one person that, amidst the crowd, you still couldn't find.

"Do you guys know where Loki is?" You blurted out, accidentally interrupting Bruce in his relatively soft-spoken conversation. 

"Oh, um," Bruce turned his attention to you and lifted his head to scout the room. "He definitely came in before. He was one of the first people here." 

"Watch your six," Natasha said, nodding her head behind you. When you turned to look behind you, you saw Loki standing off to the left side of the room, leaning against the metal walls with his feet crossed and his hands in his pockets. His eyes were trained onto you, sending a chill down your spine. Well, maybe for reasons more than that. 

You hadn't ever seen Loki in anything other than his Asgardian armor and the business-casual clothing he wore. Loki had always stridden with an atmosphere of cockiness, his head held high and the same, characteristically impish grin set upon his lips. He hadn't strayed from it today, but the suit he wore put a little flutter in your chest. The suit and suede dress shoes together highlighted his lean frame and accentuated his height. Supposing you didn't know who he was, you could have incorrectly labeled him as one of the unusually handsome CEOs wandering the compound, waiting patiently for their meeting to start. The hair above his ears had been tied back into a flat-looking ponytail, the rest falling in thick whisps to his shoulders. With a signature flash of green embezzling his tie, he stood up straighter as you turned to approach him. 

The banquets and elegant celebrations that Loki and his brother had attended were practically no comparison to any of the parties Stark hosted. He, not unlike yourself, had never participated in the gaudier end of the billionaire's events. Even back in Asgard, Loki was never really one for parties unless they were his own, and even those festivities felt somewhat burdensome. Since his destruction of New York, it had been challenging to find the time and place for Loki to join, not that he even wanted to. There was always the risk of being recognized by the general public. Still, Stark had assured him that this was a ball for a select number of individuals and that the danger of being exposed was significantly reduced. Did it actually assure him? Of course not. Was there a reason he was going? Only one. 

Conjuring up an outfit after completely ignoring the one that Stark had paid for, Loki decided he would get to the lobby earlier than the others. It was a way to get away from the hustling business of the compound halls, the lobby significantly less busy during this time of day. It would only be a matter of time before the crowd and the rest of the Avengers had shown, but it was nice to have some peace and quiet. As a janitor eyed him, wheeling his ridiculously squeaky cart from hall to hall, Loki found a bench to sit down on and crossed his legs, his mind falling into a semi-aware space. You had mentioned the other day that you hadn't attended any events such as this one. While that was not shocking, he found himself curious about what you have done. Had you ever danced with someone before? Were you the type of person to jump at the call of the buffet, or would you wait until the line had died down? The thought of you dancing seemed to cloud his mind entirely. More specifically, the thought of you dancing with him. The idea that you would dance with someone else burned in his stomach, and his upper lip curled a bit as he swallowed his irritation. He found himself disgruntled at the fact that his chest would tighten as the image of you looking up at him during a dance swelled his mind. 

As the Avengers began shuffling into the room in pairs, Loki nodded to some of them and stood to have a brief conversation with his brother before he stepped away to speak with Steve. The sight of Earth's warriors dressed in outfits far above their complexity of work was a bit impressive, but as Agent Romanoff stepped into the room, he felt a little disheartened, having fully expected you to come in after her. A few tense moments of bitter disappointment followed, but as the double doors to the main room opened again, his dejection washed away as quickly as it had grown. 

With your head held high, your hair falling delicately to your shoulders, he realized for a moment that he had never seen you with your hair down. Nor had he ever seen you dressed up. The sophisticated dress gave you a dangerous look as if you played the part of a spy even in your downtime. The dress fluttered as it caught the draft of your pace, highlighting just how well the bodice conformed to you. You walked with intent, clutching a little handbag close to your abdomen as you kept your eyes to the ground on your way to greet Natasha. You weren't always this timorous. In fact, in the time he had known you, he grew to understand how outspoken you were, a trait that Loki was appreciative of. Even though he was especially good at reading disturbances, it was always better when people were outright with it. Less time wasted, he would say to himself. 

Loki had decided that he would play a subconscious game with you, his eyes following your movements. He watched you tuck your hair behind your ear and determined that he wouldn't be the one to move. He would let you find him, let you make the first move. This was a simple game, of course. A game you didn't know you were playing. A game that subtly lets Loki read you a bit better. Loki ultimately won as Natasha locked eyes with him, her lips curling into a sly smile. She nodded in his direction, and you subsequently turned around, replacing his attention back with yours. For a second, you continued your ongoing tête-à-tête, but he found himself pleased that your eyes never left his. He made no move as he leaned against the wall and no inclination that he intended to do so. You took the bait and said a final word to Natasha, walking the twenty feet that separated you.  

The closer you got to Loki, the more he seemed to sparkle. Whether or whether not it was an illusion put on by clever tricks of magic slipped across your mind but did not stop your breath from catching in your throat. You swallowed a bit and slowed your pace. 

"I'm surprised to see you here," you said.

"Trust me, darling, not more surprised than I am," Loki stood up straight and let his gaze cast over the group of Avengers. "I've never been one for these things." 

"Neither have I," your voice lowered and followed his eyes. "Are you worried about people or just...party stuff?" 

He scoffed, "If I were perturbed about the opinion of others, I wouldn't be standing in front of you."

"Fair."

The slam of car doors outside caught both of your attention, and Tony began to talk a bit louder, shuffling his way to the front of the group to start to lead them outside. You looked at each other before slowly turning around, following the scuffle from a distance. Loki's finger's laced together in front of him, and you clutched your handbag close to you. 

"And what of you?" Loki asked. 

"Huh?" 

"The party. Are you nervous about the people or...something else?"

You smiled a bit, dipping your chin down to your chest. "It's a fundraising ball. I haven't even been to one of the smaller fundraisers that Tony's had."

Loki pursed his lips, catching sight of Tony as he stepped into a long limousine. The wide-open door of the car lit faintly with the dull luster of LED lights inside the cabin. Sam stepped inside and walked with a hunched back to the right, disappearing out of view. Loki opened his mouth but hesitated, debating if relating to you was the right thing to do. "If it consoles you at all," he justified, more to himself than you. "Neither have I."

You looked up at him, catching the way his jaw tightened. He could feel your eyes on him, but his ego kept him from down. The crowd slowly shrank smaller and smaller as you stepped outside, eventually being ushered into the limousine as well. The

raw air nipped at your ankles for a fraction of a second before you stepped into the car. The inside of the limo was decorated in sharp-looking, matte black upholstery. The dim red light of the LED strips overhead cast a faint glow over the group's heads, illuminating both your and Natasha's dresses. In front of the seats that bordered half of the car, an expensive-looking bar twinkled with freshly clean glassware and several bottles of champagne coated in gold foil, a white 'Louis Roederer' spelled out on the label.  Loki followed close behind you as you squatted to sit closest to Thor, Loki grunting uncomfortably as he squat-walked to your right. The leather cushions were softer than you would have expected, and you sank into the seats, both of the brother's arms positioned above yours in a feeble attempt to be comfortable. Loki chuckled at your squished look and reached over to wiggle a finger into your side. You jumped, blushed, and swatted at Loki, all in that order. 

"Sorry, love," he chuckled. "You make it too easy."

"Shut up." 

Tony spoke to the driver about something, muffled by the chatter of the others. When he was done, the window to the driver slid shut, and the car shuddered to a start. The shift in the car's momentum pulling off put Thor's weight against you and your weight onto Loki. For a second, you caught a whiff of a warm, woodsy scent as your shoulder pressed into his side. Was Loki wearing cologne?

"Jesus, Stark, you couldn't have made these seats any bigger?" Bucky groaned from in between Steve and Sam. Sam frowned and shoved his arm above Bucky's, letting out an exasperated sigh. 

"I feel like a sardine," Sam said, frustratedly nodding.

"Well, you smell like one too," Bucky quipped. 

"Really, man? Is that what we're doing? Why can't--" 

"You shouldn't have brought up that--" 

"Alright, boys," Natasha scolded. "Enough." 

Their argument died down, replaced by dejected scowls and tiny shoves. It reminded you of brothers, and part of you wondered what they would look like as brothers. It wasn't difficult to imagine Bucky as an older brother figure, especially with his and Steve's past. However, Bucky had the identical 'protective older sibling' energy that Sam seemed to harbor, the more you got to know them both. Those energies pitted against each other produced snarky attitudes and semi-aggressive taunting, a clear example being what you had just witnessed. 

"Ah, it's not so bad!" Thor exclaimed, his shoulder squishing both you and Peter into the seat. Now that you looked at it, it only looked like Tony, Pepper, Natasha, and Bruce were sitting comfortably, each having the correct amount of space to breathe. 

"Easy for you to say," you jested, your voice straining as you struggled to hitch yourself above Thor's arm. "You're the biggest one in here." 

"Is that (Y/N)?" Peter's voice called from the other side of your human obstacle. As Thor chuckled, Peter did his best to lean his head forward, looking for you. "I didn't even know you were in here!" 

"No, well," you grunted. "I guess you wouldn't."

You could hear the light tinkling of the glassware being toyed with. Out of your sight, Tony poured champagne in Pepper's glass then passed the bottle to Natasha. Tony bared his teeth and frowned in a guilty expression, doing his best to ignore the complaints from around the vehicle. 

You laughed humorlessly and pushed against Thor's arm. "This is ridiculous." 

Although Loki was not particularly bothered by your complaining, he found himself becoming a bit restless, cramped in a small space with a group of his former enemies. "If you're going to fuss so much, perhaps my brother would assist me in boosting your mood," he played. Loki watched with a grin as your face morphed from annoyed to sheepish in a fraction of a second. As if you couldn't be forced more into the seat, you sank a little. 

"What, do you have any road-trip games we can play, Mr. Loki?" Peter asked before Thor could speak. 

"Yes, dear boy, it's called the quiet game. I believe you can guess the rules," Loki quipped, resulting in Peter letting out an awkward, breathy laugh. 

Peter cast a look that could only be described as 'what the hell is his problem' at Tony for a quick second before getting distracted by a town sign that the car passed on the road. He was particularly intrigued by the little town called 'Hope,' saying it sounded like something from a comic book. Unfaithful to your predicament, the Town of Hope only seemed to mock your circumstance. 

Loki looked down at you, lodged between his bicep and his brother's side. The tiny amount of space made it near impossible for both your and Thor's bodies to fit adequately. Hence, Thor's arm hung over half of your body, effectively smothering you. Loki watched how you occasionally renewed your spouts of energy, pushing against his brother's arm, trying to position yourself in the seat that left you the slightest amount of breathing room. The hand closest to Loki's body was relatively free of constraint, although his frame was still packed tightly against you. His brother's lack of spatial awareness was significantly less refined than others and infuriating to his victims, whether it was at Loki's expense or not. You were quickly very conscious of the limited amount of room you had to yourself and even more so of the fact that there was a metaphysical timer ticking down until you reached your destination. Your stomach dropped a bit as you realized you were driving into New York City. That had to at least be a four-hour drive, more if you hit traffic. 

"Tony," you said in a strangled voice. "How long is the drive, anyway?" 

Tony frowned and looked up, counting numbers in his head. "Give or take three and a half hours. Don't be the first person that has to pee on a trip. No one likes that person." 

"What? Since when?" Bruce asked Tony, a hint of offense lacing his voice. 

"Since I said so. Now! Just a heads up: the hotel is right across the street from the venue, so whenever the fun turns into an old lady's tea party, you can skedaddle if you want. Just don't leave until eight. I promised a few donors that we'd be there until eight." The finality in Tony's voice left no room for discussion. Truthfully, a party that lasted from four in the afternoon to eight wasn't the worst thing you've ever heard, although a bit long when you thought about the grand scope of four hours. How much can happen in four hours? 

Your thoughts were cut off guard by Loki's fingers squeezing the muscle on your knee. You jumped and stomped the foot of your assaulted leg, making Loki chuckle. 

"I was getting at something before I was interrupted," He said. "No matter. I was simply going to ask my brother if he would like to assist me in making this car ride a little more bearable." Loki's eyes left yours for a brief moment to catch a side-eyed glance from his brother. It was challenging to see Thor's face from where you sat, but you saw a glimmer of a smile tug at the corner of his lip before he turned his head away. 

"Loki, back off," you said, but before you had a chance to readjust your position for the thirteenth time, the weight of Thor's arm against your chest doubled. You debated biting Thor's arm for a moment to teach him a lesson about personal space but decided it wouldn't be the best course of action. "Thor, buddy, come on," you smacked his forearm a few times, elbowing Loki a bit in the process. You wondered if the other Avengers were watching your predicament, and simply the thought of the other's eyes on you made you blush. 

Though the weight had yet to decrease, Thor's head turned away from you, and you heard his voice catch a conversation separate from your situation. Ignoring the sensation of panic rooting itself in your chest, you pushed against Thor's elbow and hoped for some consequence. Instead, you felt his muscles tighten as he pressed against your hands. Something clicked. He was doing this on purpose. 

Loki had been all but silently watched you the entire time during your struggle. Your hair flipped a bit to the side, some whisps clinging to the color on your lips. Your posture had stayed as exceptionally straight, and poise as you usually held it, something impressive for his brother being practically on top of you. Even so, both of your arms were pinned above Thor's bicep, leaving you precariously exposed. Loki bit the corner of his lip, his stomach tightening at the thought of Thor being so close to you. Too close to you. He caught himself in his thinking and hastily glanced around the room to see if anyone could see his shameful envy but trained his vision right back to you. He had not seen Natasha's eyes watching the interaction, a sly smile vanishing from her face as she returned to her own escapades. Loki had not been honest with himself about the nature of his feelings. Exacerbated by the immensely seductive and threatening air of confidence the dress appeared to give you, Loki found himself needing to swallow a lump in his throat whenever his eyes caught your body. You were truly radiant. Your gaze matched his for a fraction of a second, and your eyes widened, a timid smile adorning your face. His heart fluttered, but he morphed his expression to display a cocky grin. He leaned down to you, not a very far distance, but still enough to be uneasily close to your ear.

"Forgive me, but it looks like you're in somewhat of a bind. You might want to be careful, or someone might make use of it," the god of mischief said, pinching your side a bit between his thumb and two fingers. You jumped and coughed to cover up a surprised laugh.

Looking up at Loki's killer smile sent shivers down your spine, and you rapidly became aware of just how much leverage the brothers had over you. Knowing that the brothers had done something like this to you before meant that they wouldn't hesitate to do it again, and that thought put you on a very steep edge. 

Loki noticed the way your eyes scanned the room as your crisis deepened. Although he kept the smirk on his face, he faltered. It wasn't difficult to tell that if your so-called weakness were to be exposed, your anxiety would lay in the judgment of others. Any other day, he wouldn't have cared much about it and would have tickled you to pieces then and there. Now, although his ego was too great to admit it, he was nervous to touch you. You seemed delicate. Deadly but fragile. You were a toxin sitting atop a high shelf, contained within the bounds of thin glass walls. 

And he was intoxicated. 

Loki cleared his throat and retracted his hands. Thor eyed him skeptically and released some of the pressure on his arm but still held firm, even though you protested and pinched him. Loki's gaze flitted from you to the surrounding vehicle and fell back to Thor. The brothers gave an almost imperceptible nod, a mutual understanding that only could be understood by blood. 

Thor shifted and took a deep breath, continuing a conversation that you had failed to listen to. "Well, we all know that childhood was not the easiest for all of us," he said with a sad smile. 

"I don't know, I had a pretty easy-going life as a kid," Bucky shrugged. "It wasn't until Uncle Sam over here decided to join the ranks that shit hit the fan." 

"Come on, Buck," Steve said, rolling his eyes with a cynical smile. "It's a damn good thing I decided to join or--"

"Yeah, you wouldn't have been able to keep those bullies off your back, huh?" 

"Ah, shut up." Steve shook his head, and Bucky chuckled. 

"You sound like a fine pair," Thor smiled warmly and gestured to them. "Loki and I growing up were usually at odds, but there were plenty of fond memories as well. Can you think of anything, brother?" Thor's specific emphasis on his brother's name caught your attention, and as it dawned on you that they had hatched some sort of plan, your stomach rippled with nerves. 

Loki smiled and dipped his chin in a blatant imitation of humility to you and Thor, but it was a "genuine" reflection of the past to anyone else. Loki softly chuckled and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and hands animating his story by his face. 

"Asgard is unique in its ability to cultivate some of the Nine Realms' most potent healing fruits and medicinal herbs," He began. "Fields filled with trees bearing fruits of every color, all gleaming brilliantly as if they were made of gold. Thor and I would play with the other children in these fields. One day, we came across this grove of apple trees that we hadn't seen before, and naturally, we got curious. I dared Thor to eat one, and he did--"

"Loki, tell the story right," Thor scolded. "You held a knife to my throat and threatened me to eat it."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, either way, he ate the apple. Once Thor had proven that the apples were safe, we all began climbing the trees and eating them. Little did we know, those apples were enchanted with a compliance spell. Asgard laces these fruit into particularly stubborn prisoners' diets to calm them down and make the truth more pliable. We must have eaten two trees' worth of fruit. The rest of the day, we told stories under the shade of these mystical apple trees. Our dreams were filled with fantasies beyond your wildest imaginations. In all sincerity, I found the dreams to be the most enjoyable. Days and nights passed us by, but we paid little attention. We were so engrossed in our stories that we began crafting our own when we finally ran out of them. The elders came looking for us after three days."

"Oh, were they ever mad," Thor commented.

"Quite. Not only were we missing for a substantial amount of time, but we had successfully devoured Asgard's entire supply of some of its most potent weapons. We were none the wiser." 

"Aye, and it lasted longer than just that day as well. Brother, I'm sure you remember what happened to your magic." Thor waggled his eyebrows and earned an eye roll in response. 

"It was an embarrassment," Loki sneered. 

"Loki was caught in Odin's chambers by none other than Odin himself. What were you doing, again? Trying to steal some, er...chest plate or...?"

"For your information, it was the same armor that Odin bore in the Æsir–Vanir War. It would have sold for a glorious sum." Loki paused and glanced down at you for a fraction of a moment before looking back to the group. "And the only reason he caught me was because those damned apples prevented me from using my magic or being dishonest. I told him right then and there what I was doing. From that day, I vowed to never lie again. You can tell how well that exactly planned out."

There were a few scattered laughs and sardonic scoffs resounding through the cabin. At this moment, Loki sat up straight and, without taking his eyes off the group, reached over to your knee (which were well concealed by Thor's legs) and began to squeeze the muscle above your knee-cap. Though his hands were over the fabric of your dress, the material was thin and did little to protect you. You jumped and held your breath, kicking out at the little shocks traveling up your leg. Giggles immediately began bubbling in your stomach, and you broke from sheer surprise, laughing and pushing harder against Thor. Loki withdrew his unseen assault and sat back, feigning surprise at your outburst. 

"My, agent, I knew I was funny, but I didn't expect such a boisterous reaction," he said, falling back into his seat with a frustratingly smug smile. 

That bastard. He had waited for the perfect time to enact his little scheme and still managed to embarrass you without giving away your secret. Part of you wondered if you should be grateful that he did it out of the other's sight, but the other more defensive part of you was busied attempting to form an excuse for your eruption. As you glanced up at his devious gaze, you caught a certain softness in his eyes and decided against bantering at this moment. Not only did he have a significant advantage over you, but the dress did little to aid your full scope of movements. 

"Oh, you know me, Loki," you said, half sarcastic, half strained. "Always a great sense of humor." 

From that moment on, the car ride became a little easier to bear. Loki's story had sparked another conversation amidst the group and Peter, who emphatically told stories about his childhood before the spider bite. Clint mumbled a joke that you could barely hear, and everyone besides you and Loki laughed. Thor had since removed the weight from his arm, and you figured whatever tricks they had in mind had ended with the last effort. However, as the indistinct jokes made their way through the car, an empty, hollow feeling filled your stomach. 

While Loki couldn't exactly make out what was being said either, he wasn't paying enough attention to care. His eyes watched as your eyes fell to your hands in your lap, twisting a steel ring around your right ring finger. You fiddled with it absentmindedly, your smile twitching every few moments upwards as you listened halfheartedly to different conversations.  All of the Avengers had a band similar to this one - almost like a mark of loyalty, Tony had handed them out at one meeting, flaunting the tracking devices and other expensive gadgets embedded into the metal. Loki had also received a ring but decided to keep it in his pocket-dimension and out of sight. It felt more like a symbol of status rather than a generous gift, and while he was grateful to be acknowledged as part of the team, he was still too stubborn to display it. 

There was a distant look in your eye, and the pauses of silence rippling through conversations exposed your gloomy frown. Seeing you so downtrodden stirred something in Loki, almost to the point of anger, but softer. Before he had a chance to stop himself, he reached his hand over to your lap and draped his fingers gently over yours. 

Loki's hand felt cold against yours, and it pulled you from your thoughts. 

If the world had stopped spinning or the crew had stopped their chatter, you wouldn't have noticed.

Some hours later, you had barely noticed as the car drove into New York City. What gave it away was Peter's excitement about finally being home. The traffic gradually increased, and the roads narrowed, moving under bridges and through tunnels you had once been able to recognize. It had been so long since returning to the city that you surprised yourself when you knew the name of the street you were driving on. Everywhere your eyes touched, billboards illuminated your vision and advertised some show, product, or insurance that you couldn't have cared less about. These things all seemed so minuscule in the grand scheme of...well, everything. 

From the time you entered the city, it took about forty-five minutes until the limousine pulled over, and it halted to its final stop. Tony wrapped on the shaded window behind him, and it slid open. Holding a dollar bill through his pointer and middle fingers, he slipped it through the gap, and the glass subsequently slid shut. 

Tony clapped. "Quick few rules. If you're going to drink, fine, but I don't want my sponsors knowing how slobbered some superhumans can actually get. Just don't puke on anyone. Be nice to them, please, okay? They already did the speeches, so all we have to do is mingle. And lastly, don't accept any drinks from strangers. Alright, kiddies, let's get out there."

The outside of the venue was nothing to sneeze at. Through a vast, almost chapel-looking stained glass window, you could see the silhouette of what looked like to be a crystal chandelier, giving a mysterious and intimidatingly elegant look to the brick structure. The buildings in New York City always looked cramped together, but all the facilities held some variant of the same story within their walls. A writer desperate the find their meaning in a studio apartment; a fancy restaurant or hotel to attract particularly well-endowed travelers (though the owner himself is almost always an outsider); the coffee shop or corner store that only a few people visit in a given day; the audio and radio shops desirous of drawing in any customer in a given radius for cheap supplies. They were all the same. Yet somehow, even amongst everyone who held the duplicate titles of "trying-to-survive-the-world-on-their-own," you felt isolated. Your job put you on a pedestal made up of dead humans and aliens alike, and simply being invited to a party of this magnitude felt selfish. 

Loki was the first to step out of the car, as he was closest to the door. He didn't wait for the driver to open the door for him and opted to let himself out of the vehicle. You followed suit and hunched your body as Thor lifted his arm. The brisk evening air of the city clutched your ankles, and you quivered, letting your heels support your weight on the concrete sidewalk. Stepping on the grates of the sidewalks would guarantee your heels to catch them and would result in a stumble, so you decided to linger closer to the building as the others stepped out of the car as well. While the temperature outside wasn't completely unbearable, with the thin clothing covering only the necessary parts of you, it did nothing to conceal your shivers. 

Loki stepped over to you as the other began their hustle out of the automobile, his hands in his jacket pocket, his chin dipped a bit down. He took his place parallel to you and watched as Bruce shut the door of the limousine behind him. He caught the eye of a few inquisitive bystanders who roamed the sidewalks but found himself paying them little mind. In all the time Loki had gotten to know your traits and personality, this was the timidest he had seen you. Your arms were tightly crossed, and your gaze locked on your teammates, occasionally glancing at the decorated individuals making their way up the steps to the ballroom. Goosebumps were coating the exposed part of your shoulders. You were trembling. 

"It might have been wise to bring a coat," he commented with a teasing smile. 

You humorlessly chuckled. "We'll only be outside for a few more minutes. I've handled worse."

Knowing he would get nowhere with you, he sighed and analyzed your face, which gave no hints as to breaking your stubbornness. He sighed and pulled his hand from his pocket, waving it in the air for a brief moment. The air seemed to respond to his movements, and before you had any chance to protest, your shoulder was shrouded in a green light that traveled up your arms, leaving a cream-colored fabric that fell just above your hips. The cloak's collar was made of an invaluable feeling fur that hid your neck from the elements of the autumn air, the wool of the coat protecting your painted fingers from the breeze.

At first, you had gasped, startled at the sudden weighted warmth that enveloped your shoulders, but looking at Loki with his smug smile only dissuaded you from scolding him. In reality, it was dangerous for him to use his magic in the middle of so many people, but you knew that he understood that risk. You turned your head towards the steps of the building (mainly to hide the blush that found itself on the apples of your cheeks) but found yourself drawn to the front doors of the venue. Endless people flowed in and out of the building, and you wondered how many people would be attending the part for its entire duration. 

"You know," you said, turning your gaze back to Loki. "It's not safe to use your magic so publicly."

He chuckled. "Perhaps. Maybe this world is more used to magic than you know." 

"Maybe."

"Magic presents itself in different ways on Midgard. You Midgardians are quite easily fooled."

You hummed. "I wouldn't say that. I think we just...enjoy the mysterious." 

"As do I. I don't mean foolish as in idiotic. I mean that Midgardians tend to be oblivious to the magic that surrounds them daily. An answered prayer possibly, or a strange coincidence...love." 

You turned to him to catch his gaze, but his eyes fell somewhere else. "Are you calling me 'love,' or are you saying that love is magic?" 

"Love itself is not magic, darling. Love is more of an infatuation riddled with good intentions and heavy sentiments. But...love does have elements of magic if you care to look. When two people catch each other's eyes from across the room, would you call that an odd coincidence?" 

"Probably." 

"Remember what I just told you about coincidences?" 

Before you allowed yourself to say anything, a particularly disheveled-looking man on a boisterous business call came barrelling down the sidewalk. You wouldn't have noticed him at all if it weren't for the fact that he had plowed into Loki. Loki's stance held firm as the man side-checked him, and for a second, your heart caught in your throat. You were more scared for the man's consequences, but Loki's hands never left his pockets, and his stern gaze never left the man's face. Uttering a typical but slightly intimidated New York "watch it" over his shoulder as he stomped away, the stranger made no effort to continue his encounter. 

"Would you call that a coincidence?" You laughed. 

Loki shook his head and rolled his eyes, watching the man as he shuffled down the sidewalk. "Perception doesn't seem to be one of Midgard's strong suits either." His eyes bounced from different billboards plastered on buildings, each of them shifting their advertisements within a few seconds of each other. You smiled as one of the billboards faded to a bright red rotating 'A,' the Avengers logo spinning behind snippets of your teammates mid-action. At one point, you saw a flash of Loki and you fighting side by side together on a mission that you were assigned in Bolivia a few months in the past. You nudged Loki and nodded to the advertisement just as his face faded from the camera and into a bright yellow Broadway display.

"It makes me wonder how they got that clip of us," you pondered and watched as Sam's jacket fluttered from the air as he walked through the door to the ball. The corner of your lip found its way in between your teeth, and you took a deep breath. "I guess we should start thinking about going inside, huh?"

Loki shrugged and tilted his head. "I'm quite content being outside, actually." 

"I know. Honestly, me too." 

Loki glanced down at you, catching the flash of anxiety that crept over your eyes. Hesitantly, he put his hand on your shoulder and met your gaze as you looked up at him. "If it's any solace to you, may I accompany you tonight?" 

'Accompany me' were the first words to leave your lips, your head desperately trying to wrap itself around the idea of you being Loki's date for the night. Was it even a date? Or was this just a company outing? A rather big company outing, of course, but as you saw the sincerity in his eyes, a soft smile replaced your shocked expression. Your heart swelled at the thought of having someone by your side for the duration of the dance, though something about it made you a bit apprehensive. Having a friend at parties such as these was a welcome gift, even though said 'friend' was actually a literal God. "I'd appreciate that," you said. 

Loki's appearance lifted into a bright smile, and he dipped his chin down, the same grin on his lips. Without a word, he put his hand on the small of your back, gently leading you to the bottom of the steps. Even with the magically made cloak protecting you, you could feel the soft pressure of his hand pressing into your skin. It was a welcome touch, albeit a disarming one. 

The life you had led thus far would never have prepared you for such a moment. The constant training, the heat of battle, sweat, blood, and tears donated haphazardly to your life's work held no moment that taught you how to fight your nerves. There had been missions where you would have to imitate a flirty waitress or even the woman on the date, but they were all moments lost in time. You swallowed as the bouncer opened the door for you, Loki following behind. 

The double doors opened into a large banquet hall, more extensive than you had expected from the cramped brick appearance. A piano player was swaying back and forth in his seat in the far right corner of the room, dressed in a full tuxedo and a corsage that looked somehow more expensive than what you imagined his services could have cost. You wondered if he wore the same outfit every night but were caught off guard by a woman in a black vest offering to take your cloak. You politely declined and thanked her as she moved on to repeat her offer to the pair who entered behind you. A quartet of stringed instruments crescendoed in the same corner of the room as the grand piano, triggering a few dancing couples to dip their torsos towards the ground robotically and synchronously. If this place was anything, it was elegant. Everything sparkled, from the frosted look of the dance floor, which took up around half of the room, to a rich man's hairless head buying himself a glass of wine; there was nary a thing that wasn't shrouded in gleams. You tugged the cloak closer to your chest, your red-fingered gloves peeking out slightly over the cover's fur. 

The white marble of the ball clicked against your heels, the sound barely making a dent in the noise amidst the tinkling of glass and chatter of braggarts. The crystal chandelier hung high above your heads, much grander than you had been able to see through the window. The wall adjacent to the window was coated in a mirage of colors, gasoline and water appearing to collide against the cream-colored wall; the chandelier reflected the city's light onto everything you couldn't touch. There was red tapestry with golden trims hanging from every ceiling corner, the drapes on the upstairs windows matching the same hue. Several large round tables with chairs encompassing them took up the other half of the room, each of the mahogany pieces of furniture coupled with red upholstery. The tables were covered with egg-shell linens, with varying-sized candles and fancy mints as the centerpieces. Behind the mass of tables, an extensive buffet accompanied by a bar with several hard-working attendants bustles with life. 

Surrounding the room's perimeter, pedestals displaying different art pieces, each with their own strange haecceity, sat behind a red velvet rope. It could have been a joke if some of these entrepreneurs were smart enough to understand it. Priceless pieces of work, hand-sculpted or painted through painstaking hours, in a room where no one will buy them because they already have too much but are the only ones financially capable of doing so. The rope does little to stop anyone, mainly because no one needs to be stopped. You wondered how many of these Tony owned. Several people waltzed towards you, and Loki guided you out of the way before your staring had caused an accident. 

You glanced up and hooked your fingers around the crook of Loki's arm. The gesture was customary for those attending a party, you told yourself, although your heart began to race. A work party, with work friends, for work-related business. He was warm. You couldn't know if you imagined it, but as you brought your other hand to hold Loki's arm, you could have sworn you felt his elbow stiffen. As you watched his fingers ball into a fist, wonted for a nobleman's hold, you smirked. 

"If I didn't know better, I would have mistaken you for a gentleman," you teased, squeezing his elbow. 

Loki fought the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned close to you. "I'll remind to you watch your tone, darling. You wouldn't want me to make a show of you in public, now would you?"

"Loki," you swatted at him, and he laughed. "God, you know, one day I'm going to get you back for everything."

"Hah! Do you surely believe I would let that happen? That will be the day where I will personally bring you well within inches of your life. You're better off wiping that thought from your consciousness." 

Though your stomach flipped at his threat, you bumped your eyebrows. "Why? Can't handle it?" 

"My, you must have a death wish tonight." 

"Or, you're covering up the fact that you're ticklish." 

Truthfully, it was the first time the thought had come to mind and the first thing you blurted out, but as you saw how Loki's features fell and landed on you with a cold stare, you knew you had discovered something you shouldn't have. Deciding to dig your grave further, you rubbed at his side lightly with your wrist, but he made no move to indicate it bothered him.  

Loki scoffed and shrugged. "You assumed incorrectly, love." 

"Oh, please. I'm not even trying," you said. "I'll have my chance eventually." 

"Don't be so certain." 

Loki led you around crowded tables and dancers to the table designated to the team, some with plates of food and a few others scattering themselves around the room to make small talk. Bruce nodded at Natasha and pushed out his seat, standing up and walking towards the bar, although an iced whiskey idled in front of his chair. Loki pulled out a chair for you, and you thanked him before he sat himself down as well. The party felt smaller in this quiet corner of the room, and you couldn't make out if the feeling in your gut was a good or bad one. On the one hand, the swarm of people dancing obstructed your view of the musicians, something that wouldn't have commonly troubled others; as a spy, the best advantage was being aware of your surroundings. Crowds were easy to get lost in, chaotic enough to cover damage, loud enough to

"Hey," Natasha's cold fingers on the top of yours yanked you from your thoughts. As you looked at her, you caught a flash of concern contorting her face before she let her features soften. "Would you mind going to get me a glass of wine? I sent Bruce over there a few minutes ago, but he's nerding out with one of the sponsors," Natasha nodded to her left. As though on queue, the elderly sponsor conversing about what sounded like microbiology cackled with glee. 

You took a breath and nodded, patting her hand with a smile as you stood. You didn't notice, but as Loki stepped up to follow you, Natasha put her hand up. Tentatively, he lowered himself back into his seat, watching as you regretfully were pulled into the boisterous conversation alone. What you knew about microbiology, Loki had no clue, but your confident air could have fooled the most observant of personalities. Not him, of course. 

The scowl that replaced Natasha's gentle smile meant business; it was not difficult to know that. What could she have possibly wanted with him, Loki wondered. He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. Their body language was not too far off from synchronized, though Loki's was easily more curious rather than the agent's criticality. 

Natasha pulled the whiskey from Bruce's placemat, her nails clinking against the glass as she took a sip. Her icy stare left Loki as she looked away for a brief moment to align the cup's base precisely into the water-logged imprint it had left on the table. 

"What are your intentions with her?" The agent asked bluntly. 

"I beg your pardon?" Loki's face scrunched into an offended glare. The audacity this woman must have had to inquire about his relationships. His private life. Although he found himself putting on a defensive exterior, the energy it had taken to suppress his affections for you had grown exponentially in the past few months; he knew that as a fact.   

"Save it. I've seen the way you look at each other. You'd have to be blind not to pick up on it." Natasha smirked. 

"I suppose you'd be the expert in such things?" Loki challenged, targeting a sore spot in the agent's psyche.

"Cool it," she warned, leaning her elbows onto the table. "I'm not threatening you. Though if you hurt her, I may just have to."

"I believe that is a threat, agent."

"I just want to know what your intentions are." 

"I have no intentions," He paused, glimpsing at your considerate smile amid your conversation. "You sent her away on purpose," Loki concluded, tilting his chin towards his chest. "You didn't want her to be a part of this conversation." 

"No," Natasha confirmed. "I don't care if you admit your feelings or not. It's not my business. But you should know that she's not going to admit to hers." 

Loki debated on disguising his feelings once more but realized its futility. His front had long been exposed. His eyebrows furrowed. "How could you possibly know that?"

"She has a long history. It's not my story to tell, but," She pushed herself away from the table and stood up. "If you honestly have no intentions, then you're already playing with her feelings."

"I am by no means-" 

"I'm just going to cut to the chase," Natasha said with finality in her tone. "If you hurt her, I won't hesitate to kill you where you stand." Without another word nor sound, Natasha slipped away into the crowd of people who danced not ten feet from where the table was set, her near-empty glass of whiskey being the only reminder that she had been there at all. 

The accusation had left a bitter taste in Loki's mouth. The fact that Natasha had been able to read him so quickly... the fact that he let himself be that easy to read, it stirred itself into a large knot in Loki's head. Exponentially, he began to realize just how effortless it was to be softened by one's time on Midgard. Earth had made him weak, and the god scowled at the thought. His brother had gone through the same sort of conundrum when he was first outcasted from Asgard, and Loki had mocked him for it. Ironic, considering there had been a time where Loki protected the one his brother loved. 

Could he even call this love - this rogue infatuation with you? What was love but the fascination with someone who makes you feel at home? Or was it that he had just never been able to experience what love actually stirred inside of its victims? Loki had known several individuals in his life that he had been romantically attracted to, most of them immortal, and yet something was disastrously captivating about you. His head was on a pully system. Loki had been raised a prince; he had danced with many maidens, and all of those maidens he had consequently rejected. Now, here comes this mortal who fights for his enemies, and he loses his speech at your mere presence.  Prior, Loki supposed. What had happened? The second his thoughts would wander, the string wrapped around his emotions would stretch taut, and he would be brought back to the same distracting ideas of your delineation. 

The music crescendoed again, a few brass instruments holding the melody as the crowd responded in time. Some of them even jumped, a select few of them being caught and lowered back to the floor by their partner's hands around their waists. It certainly wasn't the first time he had thoughts like these, his hands holding your body close to his. While these fantasies held true to their name, there were always brief moments in history where fantasies teetered on the edge of being truthful. This was one of those moments, where flashes of magic slip through cracks and crevices, stealing its way into naive hearts. Before, he had described to you that your world had been filled with magic, and part of him wondered if you believed him. A significantly smaller portion of him deliberated if you believed in fairytales.

A bartender ornamented in an obscene amount of brightly colored pins slid a glass of deep red wine to you from across the bar, and you nodded at her with a friendly smile, returning to your conversation with Bruce and the elderly sponsor. Now that he looked at it, the man who conversed with you was not elderly by any means. His hair was thinning and gray, his hands adorned with at least six gleaming golden rings per hand. The man's fingers hung loosely by his side, your dress just blocking Loki's view of the man's jewelry. Loki scoffed and picked up the glass of whiskey, downing it in one gulp. A child could have guessed that Earth's finest liquors weren't enough to even touch an Asgardian's alcohol tolerance, but he felt the need to have something in his stomach other than his nerves. 

The man reached around behind his chair, stealing peaks at your face as the conversation continued. Something about his body language disturbed Loki, mainly because he had seen the same impish behavior in himself once upon a time. The man lifted his fingers and reached to the rear of your dress, gathering his hand and pinching your behind. 

Loki didn't have the wits about him to see you backhand the man yourself, effectively taking care of the problem without anyone's assistance. However, as the man reached up to grab his face where your hand had left a blazing red mark, Loki gripped the man's wrist and tore him from his seat, flinging him onto the ground. In less than a second, Loki had thrown the man onto the carpeted floor with a slamming thud and stepped his left heel onto the offending wrist, holding the man's other arm as he stood. The conniption had captivated the attention of a small crowd, some dancers slowing their movements and hushing their voices to eavesdrop on the disarray. The sponsor cried out and grunted against Loki's weight as he heavied himself. 

"I'll make you an offer," Loki snarled as he pressed his weight down into the man's wrist, making the sponsor splutter and curse beneath him. This felt familiar. "If you leave, you get to keep your fingers. If you give anyone," Loki hardened his grip. "...any difficulties upon your exit, I will not hesitate to take off your arm." 

Okay, maybe it wasn't the kindest thing to do, you argued with yourself as Loki threw down the offender's arm. Your torso was slouched across the bar, a wineglass rim and a smirk pressed to your lips as you watched the scuffle from afar. I mean, he did assault you. Then again, you also attacked him back. Maybe it's just karma. The man pushed himself about five feet away from Loki, his hair disheveled and his shirt untucked. After unsuccessfully pushing himself up a few times, he finally was able to stand himself upright, flustered and offended. For a second, you thought that he was going to try to attack Loki, the way he squared his shoulders and his face beating red. He wouldn't have stood a chance against a God, but part of you wondered if the sponsor even knew of Loki's status. Getting in a fight with an agent of the Avengers was one thing. One very mighty thing, of course. However, getting into an altercation with an Avenger who additionally was quasi-immortal didn't make for a brilliant choice. 

The man eyed you hesitantly. You raised your glass to him, bumping your eyebrows as he mumbled and turned away to walk to the door. Loki stood rigidly in place as the crowd of dancers parted way for the instigator to pass through. Some of them had shrugged and immediately returned to dancing; most had returned to their tables, seeking sustenance after having witnessed something that intense. The bar became instantly busier as a myriad of wealthy individuals thronged to get inebriated. You slipped away between expensive coats back to the table, placing your wine glass in front of your seat. What a party. You haven't even been here for an hour, and you've already caused a bar fight.

"Loki," you called, his attention snapping to you. 

The group of morbidly curious onlookers had since dissipated, leaving him standing between the wooden dance floor and the carpeted dinner area alone. He shook his head and trotted to the table, placing his palms on the back of his chair. "If this was an Asgardian gathering, he would have had his fingers cut off for such an offense. Are you alright?" 

You shrugged, offering a sympathetic smile. "It's not abnormal to get a creepy guy at a party." 

Yes, it was, Loki told himself. The culture shock of these realms was a personal hell, sometimes. "Yes, well, I'm sorry it was you who had to deal with that." 

You barked a sardonic laugh. "All I did was slap the guy. You're the one who knocked a few teeth loose." You paused, running your thumb across the top rail, pulling out the chair a bit. You unhooked the cloak and hung it over the chair, shuddering at the lost warmth. "I guess I owe you a 'thanks.'"

Loki peered at you. "You're not upset?" 

"No, but I'm kind of curious what he would have done after I slapped him," you chuckled and shrugged, looking down into your wine. "Tony may be another issue. He did tell us to be nice to his sponsors."

"I'm sure Stark will understand the circumstances." 

"You better hope so. He's probably going to receive a strongly worded email by next week." 

"I'd bet sooner than that." 

You both shared a short laugh. The party had started to calm down a bit, most of the patrons choosing a meal over their fanciful footwork, but a few couples still swayed together, the womens' rounded dresses ruffling outwards as they spun. You made a move to pull out your chair to sit down, and Loki faltered, a conflicted look set into his brow. The music came to a gradual silence, only the sharp ringing of a violin's highest string echoing throughout the room. As much as he hated to admit it, Natasha was right. It had to be now or never, and if he waited much longer, he ran the risk of hurting you. Though he was not frightened of Natasha's threat, Loki did not appreciate the anger boiling in his gut when imagining himself being the source of your pain.

Meanwhile, the music exploded into a dazzling symphony of strings. It hushed soon after, the tempo of the song slowing.  "Before you sit," he ventured. "While threatening the lives of your foes is fiercely entertaining, we do have another two hours before we're to be dismissed. If you're willing, would you care to join me for a dance?" 

"Oh, Loki, you don't have to. It's really okay," You yammered, your hands coming up in front of you. There was no possible way he was asking you to dance. Sure, he had asked you to accompany him to the ball, but you thought that it had been in passing or a kind gesture to help you feel better. Even so, as you caught the subtle stress that immersed into his brow, it hit you. This was genuine. He was being honest. Your heart thumped in your chest, and you prayed that the flushing in your ears was not apparent. 

"You misunderstand," Loki said and offered his hand out, secretly confirming your suspicions. "I'm sure of my actions." 

A half-formed thought lodged itself in your throat, and your mouth became dry. You reached up and tentatively rested your fingers in Loki's outstretched hand. His fingers folded delicately onto yours, the temperature of his fingers drastically different than your own. The world was slow despite your wine having been practically untouched, but your heartbeat intense. He held your hand with a thin smile, leading you through dancing sponsors to an abandoned spot in the corner of the room. 

As you passed, skirts of varying colors and designed dresses brushed against your ankles. It was remarkable how little attention these so-called sponsors paid to any of the Avengers. Getting through thick crowds should not have been this easy, especially with people of your and Loki's repute...or any of your team for that matter. Despite the fact, you were able to spot a conversation between Sam and Bucky, Bruce and Natasha swaying in the other corner of the room, and Tony introducing Peter to a stranger with large glasses. You even noticed a dejected-looking Thor who sat with Steve at the table you had just been taken from. 

The floor of the designated dancing area bloomed in color as if a craftsman had spent hours painting a watercolored landscape onto the glossed wood. The ground was the only thing you could focus on as he led you in and out of sponsors, weaving through endless people. When you finally reached the unoccupied spot in the corner, Loki turned around with an expectant smirk, your hand still in his. 

"Have you danced before?" 

No. "Absolutely." 

"Then you know the steps?" He approached you, placing a steady hand on your waist, and you instinctually reached your empty hand to rest on his arm. His cologne or perhaps his natural scent permeated the air, and you desperately attempted to feign a composed expression. He slowly lifted your hand in the air, stepping a bit forward. He stopped for a moment and chuckled to himself, cocking his eyebrow at you. "You expect me to believe you've done this before? Or am I making you nervous?" 

"Wh-what? I'm not nervous, Loki." you reddened. Everything was happening rapidly and not fast enough at the same time. Part of you yearned to be closer to him, to press his chest to yours, to feel his frigid fingers tangled with yours. Still, you couldn't move. Was it rude to examine a God's face? Maybe, but his eyes were just as alluring as they were bright, and his skin practically glowed under the room's multicolored spotlights. 

"But, I'm correct in assuming you've never danced," Loki predicted. 

"Yes," you sighed. "I'd be lying if I said I knew what I was doing. I haven't danced with anyone since Carter Gurts in the seventh grade." 

Loki chuckled and dipped his chin to his chest, gently beginning to lead you in his waltz-like steps. "Carter Gurts?" 

"Don't even get me started," you groaned, doing your best to ignore his proximity to you. "It was my middle school formal. He got nervous and threw up," you cringed. 

"That's repulsive." 

"Tell me about it." 

Loki bit the inside of his cheek, studying your features. "I can promise you that we won't repeat that little memory," he laughed. Your face lit up into a bright and cheerful giggle, and you thanked him for his sensitivities. 

He pushed you outwards and wrapped his arm over your head and around your back, keeping his hand in yours. You followed his direction and were taken into a spin, your dress fluttering outwards. When you turned to face your partner again, you tripped on a rogue plank of wood that peaked out just an inch higher than the others. You fell forward, wrapping your arms around Loki's neck to steady yourself. Loki caught your bodice, and you two fell into an embrace. 

"You know, if you hadn't fallen over yourself, we may have been able to pass that off as deliberate," Loki grinned. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

Norns, you were beautiful. 

Your eyes glistened as the light of a yellow spotlight coruscated over your forehead, fading into the sea of colors behind you. Loki wanted to stay like this forever. Why did he feel like he had lived this moment before? How warm you were compared to him and how soft your hands were compared to his calloused skin. It was ironic, considering how much dirty work you had to do as a spy. He wondered if you noticed, but you didn't, nor did he feel how your body trembled. Your smile had turned his words into sticky sweet syrup, but he refused to rid the taste of you. It was as though all those stories he told as a child had come to reality, fables of finding love and princesses in different worlds. Those apple trees had borne more than just their fruit, uncovering glimpses of his future love. Archaic swatches of color mingled around each other in passing visions that he couldn't make out. All he understood at the time was that those perceptions had somehow comforted him. Now, he understood that he had seen you. 

There were certain things that Loki had taken pride in - one of those things being that he never made the first move. But here and now, as he fell deeper and deeper, he found himself desperate to explore you. He took his hand from yours and reached to your jaw, gently tracing along the bottom of your cheek. He outlined your chin and hesitated over your lips with his thumb. You were so tempting. He faltered, placing his palm at the base of your neck. 

The piano and orchestra had long fallen into the background noise of the party, though sometimes the music would increase in volume and disturb your thoughts. Now was not one of those times. Loki's lips brushed against yours, and as the music crescendoed for the final time in the song, you closed the short space between you, sealing the kiss. You debated pulling away for a moment, but feeling the passion and drive behind his kiss, you allowed yourself to sink further into the heat of the moment. Butterflies spurred to life in your stomach. Loki's lips were softer than you would have imagined, and you felt the heated gust of his breath against your skin. He was the first to pull back, but he remained close to you, cupping your jaw in his hands as the music stirred into what felt like a celebratory chorus. He rubbed the edge of your cheek with his thumb and gazed into your eyes.

"You're as red as your dress, darling," Loki quipped, his brow turning inwards. 

"Can you blame me?" You reached up and put a hand on his. "Is this really how you feel?" It was a question that may have been interpreted as insecure, but you couldn't care at this moment. You had spent countless amounts of time pondering over these types of possibilities. Falling in love, dancing, even sheltering a (substantial) crush on Loki. Never in a million years did you think it would actually happen. The trickster's eyes had always given away his secrets; you had been able to learn his mannerisms and some of his 'tells' from the sheer amount of time you two spent in each other's company.  Standing in front of him with his eyes more avid than you had ever seen them, you finally let down your guard. 

"I think a better question is if you feel the same way," He removed his palms from your jaw and placed them both at your waist, staring eagerly into your eyes. 

"I would have left if I wasn't feeling it, Loki," you laughed. 

"So then you did?" 

"Did what?" 

"Feel it." 

In all reality, there wasn't a need to put your feelings into words - that could be saved for a better time. You nodded at Loki, the elated grin you wore answering every question he needed to know. He quickly took his hands and placed them on the sides of your head, bringing you in for a chaste kiss. 

Who were you two but oil and water; both inherently deadly from two different worlds with individually unique lifespans.  How the universe could have arranged something like this to happen was something foreign to you. Every moment in time had aligned for this to be a reality, a thought too implausible to even discuss. 

He replaced his fingers on your waist and squeezed, lifting you up and twirling you around him. In an entirely involuntary response, you squeaked and tucked your elbows, giggling as his thumbs dug into your sides. The sudden motion set Loki off balance, and he struggled to put you down softly instead of dropping you. Shit. This was not the place. The severity of the situation dawned on you only milliseconds earlier than Loki, and a conniving grin replaced his solicitous look.

"Uh oh," Loki tantalized, refreshing his grip on your torso. With his thumbs perched at the sides of your belly, he dug in the slightest bit, and you jumped at the same time your elbows fell inwards. "Are you alright, love? Something bothering you?" 

"Loki, not right now," You scolded him, failing to conceal your silly expression. "We can't--" 

"Draw attention?" Loki interrupted. Leaning close, he brought his forearm around your back, pulling you as tight as possible. The light and dainty music, obviously made for a romantic type of dance, was the perfect excuse to have you as close as you were to him. "My dear, this party was held with the intention of showing you off. You truly think I care about a bit of an audience?"  His whispers were hot in your ear, and goosebumps dispersed over your arms like the cape he had conjured for you.

"Okay, you may not, but I do," You giggled, putting your hands on his chest to push away. You did your best to dispel any lewd thoughts that came up, but his chest was substantially firm behind your touch, and you abruptly realized that you didn't want to move.

"How foolish to think you have much choice in the matter," He taunted, his fingers now skittering to life and scratching at your lower ribs. Attempting to cover your giggles with a cough didn't do as much as you had hoped. His proximity to your body prevented you from moving either forwards or backward, as his forearm had tightened behind your back, forcing you to press into him. 

"Wahait, Lokhihihi!" You halfheartedly pleaded, twisting your torso a bit to see the other patrons. Luckily, no one had paid any attention to your laughter, too busy with their own to focus on someone else's disorder. 

To your chagrin, as you turned, Loki took the opportunity to walk his fingers up to the base of your armpit, scribbling in the hollow space with a wicked grin. You were instantly thrown into hysterics, your arms coming down to your sides in defense. As much as you did your best to hold in your noises, every few seconds, you'd chortle louder than you had intended. Some people would occasionally throw snide looks your way but return their attention in moments.   

"You do realize that this is payback," Loki noted. 

"Whahat?! Fohor- fahahaha - Shit, Loki!" 

"That little stunt," He emphasized his point by pulling you tighter against his body, shaking two fingers against the edge of your upper ribs. You squeaked and dissolved into helpless giggling. "...you drew in the hallway before. Trying to tickle me - the god of mischief, of all people. And in public, might I add. It's a shame, really," Loki baited, trailing his hand down and pinching at the meat above your hip. "You are so intelligent, and yet you do such stupid things."

You bucked against him, the fabric of your dress limiting any protection against his fingers. There was nowhere to go that he would allow, and the reality of the power he held sank in. As your laughter grew in volume, so did the heat that ran over your cheeks. "N-nahahaha...NNG! NOHOHO-" As to hide the violent eruption that echoed over the orchestra, you buried your face into Loki's shoulder, still fumbling for a desperate grip on his skittering hands. It was the only thing you could think of to muffle the racket as he turned his attack to the sliver of skin where your side met your back. Your laughter was nearing desperate, and your urge to scream only heightened along with it. 

"Careful, darling," He whispered, stilling his fingers. His words were betrayed by the smile lacing his diction. "Don't want to cause a scene, now do we?"

"It's your fauhault that I am!" You mumbled into his chest. 

A dark growl of a chuckle escaped his sigh, and he coiled his assaulting arm around you, holding you close. Embracing Loki felt like two worlds colliding, something strange and beautiful but deep-seated and dangerous. His touch was powerful and hungry. He bore years of solitude and loneliness under his nails, all crashing down into one hug that was sure to be among others. You knew that he had missed years of feeling the closeness of intimacy, and truth be told, your situation was not much different. Those years, poisoned by fragments of shattered memories, had hardened you beyond reason. There would be one day when you were able to explain what had happened, but not even you were ready to face those recollections just yet. For now, your mind was occupied by his presence. 

Loki intertwined his fingers between yours, pushing your right shoulder out, and your arms stretched tautly but never severed the connection. The song that played was recognizable, some alteration of Pachabel's Canon in D that the piano took melody on. Your body floated through the notes, spiraling back into his hold once again, his arm enclosing you. His breath on the back of your neck pierced your skin, but before the chills had fully erupted, Loki lifted his arm that was still wrapped around you, forcing you into a frail spin.

When your chest collided with his, you bit the corner of your mouth, desperate to lean forward. The tension between you two was visible, and faster than you had intended, your lips pressed into his again. Heaven was either tellurian or somewhere tucked away in Asgard, and his hands on your hips confirmed that paradise could never be found at home. Not allowing yourself to dive too deep just yet, you pulled away, his head hesitating to follow your lips as he gazed at you. The longing in his eyes burrowed far into you, and you smiled, reaching up to take his jaw in your hands. How kind and loving he looked at you as if one glance could hold a thousand words, or though your fairytale had woven itself into the pages of real life.

"Can we just leave?" You said fervently. "I don't want to be here much longer."

He caught the pangs of longing in your stare and smirked in response. "Desire me all to yourself, hm?" 

"Don't be ridiculous," You groaned and sucked your teeth, trying to hide the blush from creeping onto your face. Even though you had feigned defensive, Loki had called you out, putting your thoughts that you hadn't even pieced together on a bold display. It wasn't that he was right...but he certainly wasn't incorrect either. The thought of having Loki alone was enticing, and he was the only one who could get you to admit it. 

Though you both had undoubtedly had enough of the gathering, Loki had mentioned Stark's makeshift "party guide" that kept you confined to the grounds until eight. Time had been swept by the rather eventful evening, but you were still an hour away from being dismissed. That meant more time striking conversations with sponsors...or worse, you thought, having to deal with the crew now that both of your feelings had been publicized. The floor had been mostly abandoned, save you and a few stray couples who mingled rather than danced. The sun had cast an amber hue over the furniture and faces, some portions of the room painted in a discolored brown as the stained glass windows mixed with the sun's natural vibrancy.

The hour had not taken as long as it felt, and you were grateful that Loki had taken control over most of the conversations. It must have been a miracle or at least inside-knowledge that he would be attending, as most patrons didn't bat an eye when giving his two cents on specific subjects. All the while, Loki would keep a protective hand around your waist, never breaking his concentration from his discourse. Several speeches were given in the final hour, mostly droning orations congratulating Tony on the proceeds raised. While the number had been shocking to hear at first, you pondered how much money could actually be spared from these people. The thought nauseated you, and you turned your head away from the lengthy addresses. Not ten minutes away from eight, Tony placed his cup down on the bar counter with a thud, leaning over and falling into a drunken giggle. Pepper was barely a foot away, attempting to pull him out of his seat with pursed lips. 

You nodded at him as his glass fell to the floor with a crash. "Wasn't he the one who told us not to get shitfaced? And I thought he told us they already did the speeches?"

"He did," Steve said, taking a swig of his beer from his spot at the table. "Everyone who's been at that podium has had a few. They're mainly Tony's buddies." 

"That explains it," You mumbled and took a sip of your wine. "Are we really the sober ones here? I know you can't get drunk, and no alcohol here that Thor and Loki have is gonna do a thing." 

Bruce scoffed. "You'd think the Avengers would be the real partiers, considering the whole 'saving the world' thing."

"One of us is, that's for sure," Natasha chuckled, glancing over her shoulder at a messy-looking Tony who was being led out the front exit, clinging to Pepper. "I guess we're gonna have to find our hotel rooms ourselves." 

"I think I can actually help with this," Peter muttered, focusing onto Tony and Pepper, who stumbled over themselves as they slipped through the hall's archway. Before you could figure out what was happening, Peter pressed a button tucked close to his wrist, and webbing shot out in a thin, almost transparent line from the opposite side of the table, weaving through the crowd. The spurt of webbing connected with a small manilla envelope in the back of Tony's pocket and stuck, snapping it backward and straight into Peter's hands. He smiled cheerfully as the table watched him, both shocked and impressed. 

"What...did you just do?" Sam questioned, his brow pressed in confusion. 

"Oh, right," Peter quickly went to work, opening the envelope he had stolen off of Tony and spilling its contents out onto the table. Eight pale blue cards slipped out of their yellow casing, each with its own number labeled on a gray stripe. "They're the keys. I think there's enough for each of us, but I'm not sure." 

"What about Tony and Pepper?" Steve questioned.

"Oh! Mr. Stark actually had his key around his neck, so I think these are all ours."

Steve nodded and bumped his eyebrows. "Nice work, kid," he said, trying to hide his surprise.

"That was really cool. Never do it again," Clint laughed and patted Peter on the shoulder. 

"If I may," Loki spoke, casting his glance down to the cards. He looked at everyone at the table, his look holding for a moment longer on you than the others. "There are eight keys and nine of us. Unless Stark had the intention of having two of us share a room, that leaves one odd man out." 

He was right. For the nine people who sat at the table, one of you would have to room together. The most reasonable option would have had the brothers stay together, but as the suggestion exited Thor's mouth and he was given a discouraging glare on Loki's part, the proposal fell short. 

Truthfully, the thought was inappropriate, and the idea of the team's possible reactions coursed through your mind. But even if...it wasn't the worst thing ever. "What if," you began. "Loki and I room?"  Though a few at the table shot wary looks your way, you weren't met with the strong discouragement as you expected. Loki was the only person to truly grasp the arrangement, whose eyes went wide. 

Steve was not one known to be protective in the nuances of life such as these. More often than not, you found Steve taking on a  'DYI'-dad role, using encouraging phrases to help guide others instead of demands. Appreciated most of the time, his suggestions were typically on track with their respective solutions, but as he eyed you from his spot at the table, something boiled in your gut. You knew the team's wary opinions of the god, and when Loki caught sight of the super-soldier's leer, he fought off a snarl. Though the man's following words were easy to predict, it did not stop them from bruising his ego. 

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Steve said more as a statement than a question, avoiding eye contact with Loki. The tense silence spoke volumes. 

You pursed your lips, wanting to snap back at him. I think it's really rude that you would insinuate any wrongdoings, you wanted to say; that it was his job as the team leader to accept and work with everyone on the team, even if that meant it included something in their past. Loki had been on the team well before you had, so the notion that you would be unsafe was wildly offensive. Although, you could see where he came from. Steve was the one to see Loki in action all those years ago. While you were not afraid of his past and sins, you had no right to comment on how someone else felt about them, especially those who fought personally against his tyranny. There was no clear answer. 

You cleared your throat, interrupting a breath that Loki took to speak. "Respectfully," you said. "Loki and I have been on precisely thirty-two missions before, thirty-two of those missions being successful with minimal casualties," It would have been enough if you had left it there. Your point was proven, which was evident by Loki's triumphant and slightly presumptuous grin at Steve. Even so, there was an urge to express the accuracies of that statement and emphasize it, so it would show just how confident you were to Steve. "I would trust him with my life," you concluded, earning a surprised expression from most at the table.

Your face flushed under their stares, but most of them quickly returned to their own doings aside from Steve, Loki, and Natasha who sucked on her teeth to prevent a smile. Steve looked at you, appearing more ashamed than annoyed, catching you off guard. Despite Loki's cocky grin that he hastily threw, Steve nodded at him and then returned to you with a shameful expression. "You're right," he said. "You both are a crucial part of the team." 

"Just take off the 'big-brother' pants, okay? I know what I'm doing," You lowered your voice as to not embarrass him. Steve nodded and offered an apologetic smile which you returned sincerely.  

Even though Loki was humbled by your desire to assist him and make amends, it didn't take a genius to figure out that he had caused irreversible damages in his past. While he didn't mind being feared overall (and got a kick out of it often), he had come this far, and the concept of mistrust still being present created animosity. He imagined those years ago, standing atop the buildings in the same city he was in. Midgard's people had looked like ants from up there, at least until Tony Stark had smashed his skull through a building window. He chuckled. Good times. But things were different now that he had changed. He had protected a world he had once promised to conquer, protected people vowed to slaughter, and now he found himself only wanting to surmount one lone matter in this world. One lone person. It irritated him, the fact that his thoughts always returned to you. 

Loki sucked in a breath and pushed out his seat, using two fingers to slide over a key card from the pile. He eyed the card, then stood up, adjusting his tie. "On that note, I'll be making my exit," he announced. The rest of the table bid farewell to him and wished him a good night, which he nodded in return. When he was confident that most had gone back to either eating or idle chatter, he walked the perimeter of the table, stopping behind you and leaning down to whisper. 

"Would you like to accompany me to our suite?" he breathed. "Or do you have better plans?"  His hot breath shot chills down your collar. 

Biting your lip to fight off a grin, you followed Loki's example and stood from your chair, throwing the cloak over your shoulders. "I think I'm gonna head out too. Does anyone know what time the limo is leaving?" you asked in a small attempt to change the potential course of conversation.

"O-eight-hundred. Bright and early," Bucky said with a mouth full of sushi, pointing an accusatory chopstick at you. "And you two behave."

You laughed and rolled your eyes, hooking your fingers onto Loki's elbow crook. "Relax, Barnes," you huffed. "It'll be fine. Goodnight everyone," Once you had earned your responsive chorus of adieus, Loki turned and led you through the sea of tables and dancers and out into the brisk northeastern air. 

The hotel was further than you had first presumed, being a block down from the venue. The tinges of orange had long left the sky, replaced by black skies and illuminations of electronic billboards that changed images every few seconds. There were a few billboards like the one you had seen when you initially arrived, most of the pictures being of Steve or Tony, which made you chuckle. The action-hero stances or dramatic portraits always made them look more grave than they both were. Maybe not Steve; Steve perpetually looked as if someone poured water in his cereal. You pointed them out as Loki led you down the sidewalk in drastically gaudier clothes than each character who passed you by. 

The hotel was complicated to find, as every building in New York seemed to resemble the next. Decorated by colossal flags signs displaying the hotel's name you didn't attempt to pronounce, the entrance was less conspicuous than imagined. The only things that gave away the hotel's lucre were the bellhops, attendants, and guests who exited and entered nonchalantly. Each wore business suits, tuxes, or luxurious pelts. It was apparent why Tony chose a place like this. Part of you wondered if this would draw attention to the Avengers, and another part of you tried to forget that you'd be at risk wherever you went. You knew what you had gotten yourself into when you had joined, so the constant life-being-in-danger thing was essentially a norm. 

The hotel lobby was designed with an affluent-business aesthetic, adding on a couple of million dollars. Your heels clicked against the polished marble as you entered, a golden yellow cross-hatching with blue stripes in the center embellishing the design. Despite the amber-colored ceilings being a bit low, a crystal chandelier hung from its freshly wiped canopy. Several potted planted were tucked away in alcoves carved into the off-white walls, two ivory armchairs placed below them with a small coffee table in between. The ambiance was cozy, and a fireplace surrounded by several leather loveseats crackled on the far left wall of the room. 

As you checked in, a clerk with a black, coily coiffure spoke something into a walkie-talkie and returned to you with a smile. "Just making sure your respective bags get to your room. The elevator to your right will take you to the fourth floor. I understand that you have a party of...eleven?"

"I believe that's correct," Loki confirmed. 

"All the rooms are side by side and connected by the living rooms. You'll just have to open the door from both sides. Please don't hesitate to call if something's wonky. Enjoy your stay," the clerk said, sliding you a laminated list of numbers to call in every scenario possible. 

Loki took the list and tucked it into his jacket, looking down at you and giving a reassuring smile. "Are you alright?" He asked as he led you onto the elevator. He pressed a button, and the doors slid shut.

"Yeah," you took a deep breath. "Even on my missions, I don't think I've ever had to pretend to be someone this rich." 

Loki hummed. "You would have completed the mission regardless. I've visited lavatories classier than this."

"You're a prince from a different planet," you laughed.

He chuckled, "I'm well aware."

"It has to count for something," There was no point in not being honest with him. The hotel and the party were both grand gestures, but everything was becoming a bit much. "I guess I'm a bit overwhelmed," you confessed. "A lot happened tonight."

Loki tilted his head to look at you. His brow furrowed, then changed into something sympathetic. "Yes, it's been an eventful day."

The hotel room was easier to find than the hotel. A pop machine whirred to life as it dispensed a can for a mother and her daughter, and the girl giggled with glee. You and Loki moved past them and onto a secondary hallway. You found your door, allowing Loki to open the room with a swipe of his key card. He pushed the door in, and you followed close behind. As expected, your luggage had been tucked neatly into a coat closet adjacent to the front door, hangers wobbling haphazardly as you opened its door. Some of you wondered how or who got your clothing together and packed away, but when you thought about it too hard, you became grossed out and decided to find something else to focus on.  

About three feet away from the door, a table made of dark wood sat at waist level, a rectangular basket of fancy liquors, and a mirror hanging behind it. You watched in the mirror as Loki closed the door behind you, and you shrugged off your cloak to drape it from a hanger. The floor was carpeted a sandy shade, expanding into what you assumed to be a bedroom to your left. On the opposite side of the room, the carpet halted at a living room with tan leather sofas, a desk, and a boxy television. 

Loki chuckled as you stared at yourself in the mirror, stripping himself of his jacket and hanging it beside your cloak. He breathed in deeply and stepped up behind you, sliding his hands over your waist and interlocking his fingers on your stomach. The feeling made you jump slightly, but you relaxed into his hold. He rested his face in the crook of your neck as you leaned your head back onto his shoulder, inhaling the freshened air of the hotel room. 

"It's quiet," you muttered, picking up a tiny bottle of whiskey with the silhouette of a red lion on an orange label.

Loki inhaled and lifted his chin, placing it gently on your shoulder. "I never pegged you as a whiskey person." 

"I'm not," you validated. Turning the bottle over in your fingers, you hummed and set it down. "I've never actually had the chance to try it. Or wanted to. One or the other." 

"I personally don't care for it much. Asgardian mead remains the nine realms most exquisite of spirits," Loki countered. He remained, standing with his skin pressed into yours. The mirror held the actualities of your own single universe, albeit small ones. Seeing the reflection of your body pushed against his own was something out of a story, and for a moment, he prayed to Odin that his visions hadn't been incorrect. The softness of your skin was unparalleled, he noted, taking a hand to drag against your outer upper arm. You shivered, making him smile into your neck. You smelled as though rich wine and amber and pear had clashed into one collaborative fragrance, a warm scent that reminded him of the gardens on Asgard. It was charming, to say the least.  "Would you like to take a moment to freshen up, darling?" He asked mainly out of courtesy.  

You hummed in thought, bumping your eyebrows with an appreciative smile. "Maybe in a few. I think I just want to get into comfy clothes." 

"That can be arranged," Loki said, taking the hand that had been dragging along your arm and flicking his fingers upwards. A fizzy green light bubbled at your feet, shrouding the two pairs of legs in chartreuse clouds that formed and rolled up your body. You fell a little flat as the heels you wore faded away, replaced with soft grey slippers that covered everything but your Achilles heel. You noticed that Loki's sophisticated dress shoes had also been transformed into black socks as the mist climbed higher. The magic passed over your torso and chest, momentarily blocking your view from the mirror. 

When the magic subsided, the tight feeling of your dress melted away into soft cotton that hugged your hips and shoulders. Loki had replaced your outfit with a black t-shirt that fell loose and a pair of plaid green and blue pajama pants that cuffed at your ankle. His outfit had changed as well; his suit morphed into a grey sweatshirt and black track pants. It was a peculiar look, seeing you both in such casual outfits, but it warmed something in your heart. You smiled, taking your hand and holding the side of his cheek, watching his expressions in the mirror. He smiled.

"You always did look better in green," he teased, pushing himself off of you to turn you around to face him. "I do wonder how you would look in Asgardian leather." 

You blushed at the mention of it and pushed at his chest. Despite the quip, you released a breathy laugh, "I think it would probably suit you better than me."

"Eheh," he laughed, placing a flat palm on your upper back to pull you closer. "Don't undersell yourself, dear. If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that you would look ravishing, no matter the clothing you choose to wear," he said, rubbing a thumb along your cheek. "Or don't," he added with a smirk. 

You threw your head back and groaned, allowing his arms to support your weight. "I don't want you to keep thinking you can get away with that kind of stuff," you grumbled. The position you found yourself in was oddly reminiscent of the ballroom dance you shared. That same dance he had tickled you to pieces and embarrassed you in front of everyone, of course, but it had-

Wait. 

"Are you going to do anything to stop MEHE-" Loki immediately unhooked his arms from around your body as you skittered your fingers up his stomach. He stepped backward, expecting you to let go, but you followed his movements, and he stumbled against the wall. He sucked in his giggles and clasped your wrists in his hands, looking aghast. "I must warn you, love - you are not making a wise series of choices."

"I think you lied to me, Loki," you laughed in astonishment. You knew your hunch about Loki faking had been correct, or he at least was doing an impressive job at holding in his reactions at the party.

After readjusting his posture, he gripped your wrists tighter and jerked you close to him. You yelped, falling against his chest. With your fists and elbows tucked between his and your bodies, he growled a low chuckle into your ear, earning a snicker from you. As much as you wanted to push your head down, Loki simply didn't allow it. "I think you are walking on thin ice, pet," he whispered. "Do what you will. But I swear everything you do will be returned tenfold." 

You paused, taking a second to lean back and study his features. This was Loki we were talking about, and you had not only tickled him once today (or attempted), but now twice, and were expecting to get off the hook. Something as flirty and as torturous as tickling was indeed not below the trickster god. He stared deep into your eyes, deadly serious. When you didn't respond in time, Loki's threatening look softened. "No? Then let's begin," he said, smirking. 

Before you could ask what he was talking about, you felt something soft coil around your ankle, wrapping around and up your leg to mid-calf.  Your instincts forced out a scream and kick before you even had seen what it was, but when you looked down and saw a rolled-up bed sheet tied around your foot, you became confused. The corded sheet trailed in from the bedroom, disappearing behind the wall where you assumed the bed was. The only thing visible in the bedroom was a flat-screen television against the same wall as the door.  The confusion only lasted so long, as any thought was whisked from your head when the sheet tightened and yanked, throwing your weight to the floor. You screamed and fell with a thud as the long line of linen dragged you into the bedroom. 

Having been in a similar situation like this (Bali was probably the roughest mission thus far), you were able to get your bearings quickly. You used the momentum of the turn to flip onto your back, crunching up and reaching out to unhook the wrap. Before you could do much work, the direction of the pull changed, and you were hoisted suddenly into the air, your free leg bent at an awkward angle. With a heavy breath, you craned your neck to look at what held you. 

The sheet that rippled with green magic had been rolled tight, but you were able to see the unmade bed it originated from. There was a sofa black leather sofa that you had been dangled above, a coffee table and armchair a few feet away. If you fell, you were in for a soft landing, and seeing Loki's magic calmed your nerves a bit. It wouldn't have necessarily been a surprise if a rogue villain decided to literally crash the party or invade your hotel room; it wasn't the first to happen either way. Even so, the sneer that Loki held as he strolled into the room with his fingers laced behind his back did little to slow your pulse. 

"Stuck, are we?" He said, bumping his brow and looking down, the smirk never leaving his face. He stepped closer, and you thanked fate that the dragging had caused your shirt to catch under the elastic in your pants, keeping your midsection clothed. 

"Loki, put me down right now!" you scolded, but a few giggles slipped through your scowl. 

Loki tutted and strolled over to you, scanning your upsidedown body. You knew that Loki would never and has never done anything to hurt you, but despite that fact, you felt exposed. Gravity worked against you, making every movement intentional, forced, and tiresome. Dangling three feet off the floor by one leg would be easy for someone to get out of if they held a strong core, but getting out of it with your captor standing less than a foot away presented another obstacle. If he had made you fall, falling on a couch was undoubtedly better than landing on a hard floor.  However, Loki stayed still, watching your struggling form attempt to crunch to unwind the cloth from your leg. Gripping your pant leg, you opted to ignore him for the time being. You walked your hands up your leg, using it to sturdy yourself as you reached up and climbed the length of your body. 

Just as your fingertips grazed the hem of the sheet, the cloth rippled against your ankle, alive with bright green sparks. It slackened, and you felt a startling induction of gravity, but you were caught and snapped back down to your starting posture. You gasped and yelped as the sheet hoisted you higher. 

"Unfortunately for you," he stepped up to you, his shoulders slightly lower than parallel to your hips. Tantalizingly slow, he dragged two relaxed fingers against an exposed sliver of skin on your lower stomach. You shuddered a gasp and reached up to grab at him, but he had pulled away too quick. "I don't have any plans on releasing you any time soon."

"What are you talking ABOHOUT?!" If there was reason for trying to hold back your laughter, it was startled off by the boisterous laughter that erupted through the room as Loki set to work scratching at your stomach. His fingers danced around your navel, flitting down (or up, by your perspective) to flutter around your sternum. Giggles now pouring freely, your biceps already began to ache with the effort of swatting away his hands. Your mirth became frantic as the realization of just how much power he had over you sank into your spine. In a desperate reach to control what you could, you grabbed at his shirt and clutched at it. Loki mistook your grappling as an attack of your own, and he coughed out several short chuckles but caught your flailing wrists and held them in one fist. 

"Ohoho, poor choice after poor choice tonight," he looked incredulously at you.

The minute amount of protection your arms provided had been stolen from you in a blink of an eye. You choked out some giggles and felt your elevated pulse beneath his fingers, and you wondered if he could feel it too. Yet your laughing hadn't stopped. Although it was an exploitive and intense feeling, you didn't mind being tickled. You could feel the power beneath his palms, but his touch revealed something more genuine - more affectionate than spiteful. His hands grazed over your skin, and you wanted to drink in the feeling of his skin against you, but the tickling made that incredibly difficult. When his fingers tripped to a different spot and your energy spiked, his tongue would peak out between his teeth as he tried not to laugh along with you. One of those spots was an area of your upper ribs, right below the hollows of your armpit. Your giggles hitched, and you jerked away from him. He tapped the tip of his pointer nail against the sensitive skin gingerly, taking enjoyment in your desperation. 

"This ihisn't even fahahair!" you whined. "What I did wasn't nearly as bad as what you're doing!" 

"I did say that I would return your actions tenfold, did I not?" 

"Yeah, but-" 

"Then you understand that while I may not commonly be a man of my word, when it comes to making things fair, I care very deeply," he hummed, gripping your wrists tighter as he traced to the soft spot of your underarm. Your mind was fuzzy from the ticklish shocks slamming through your nerves, but his teasing did nothing for your aid. You pulled and yanked, but your strength against his was a game you were destined to lose. "If that means I must teach you a lesson about the natural consequences of your actions, so be it. Would you like me to list out the reasons for your discipline?" 

"NahahaHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHO!" you bellowed when he switched to vibrating his fingers under your exposed arms. He nudged the hem of your sleeve to the side, allowing his top digits to slip beneath the cover of your shirt and onto bare skin. 

"Does it not bother you that your enemies could unravel you by something as simple as this?" He pinched his hand up to your hips, and you cackled, struggling against your restraints. Though Loki wasn't one for mercy, his heart fluttered when he saw a happy tear escape from the apple of your cheek.

He also noted how red your face turned and recalled that humans didn't have the blood circulation strength required to be held at different gravities for extended periods. Without releasing your wrists, Loki commanded the sheet to set your back down against the couch, your head and shoulders touching down first, followed by the rest of your torso. The couches cooled leather startled you at first but swiftly came as a relief as your headrush began to fade away. You sucked in some greedy breaths and gradually opened your eyes before realizing that your one leg was still held in the air. Using his one free hand, he scratched delicately along the back of your knee. 

"KAHAHAHA, SHIHIHIT! Leheave mehehehe aloHONE!" Your free-hanging foot landed against the arm of the couch, pushing your hips up in pure instinct or to gain an ounce of leverage. It did nothing. 

"You are quite resilient, I must say. Then again, it could also just be that...you're enjoying this," Loki remarked, and you felt his thumb twitch against the bone of your wrist. 

Distracted by Loki's tickling fingers, the soft cotton that slid against the bottom of your sole was almost too faint to feel. That is... until it became more intentional. The first few flicks of the magic-bound sheets were nearly as mistakable as an accident, but when your eyes caught the glowing green light shifting around your toes and arch, your heart rate hitched, and your laugh took on a wheeze. The hemming of the sheet was significantly stiffer than the rest of the fabric, and feeling it scratch against your foot was practically unbearable. You kicked out and attempted to sit up, but your antics had sapped most of the energy from your body. 

"PLEHEHEASE! I AHAHAM NAHAHAHAT!" 

Loki scoffed with a heavy eye roll. There were things that Loki was, but a fool was not among those qualities. You were not one to hide your affection for those around you, a characteristic that made you all the more endearing. He had seen you push, play, and intentionally annoy the other Avengers into rough-housing, and they had always played along, happy to make a sturdy source of their joy content as well. Loki had not been kept a victim of your antics, and you were not below purposefully seeking him out to pester. "I'm just supposed to believe that?" 

"Yehehehes! This is torturhure," You chortled, which was a half-truth. 

"Fascinating," Loki leaned forward on the couch, looming over your frame. The angle of your trapped leg caused your hips to elevate off the sofa, your foot planted on the arm for support. To avoid hurting you, Loki made sure to press his weight into the upper part of your torso instead of the lower part to prevent any uncomfortable pull. Who would have thought he'd take care in the comfort of his own captive? Would Asgard crumble at the mere sight of its trickster haven fallen at the hands of something so ordinary? Could all evil not be subdued by the touch of one it loves? Perhaps it was possible. "And yet you've not once requested me to stop," Loki purred, bringing your hands up above your head though you thrashed and struggled and spewed with nervous tittering.

Your stomach dropped and swarmed with abashment. Saying that it was torture wouldn't have counted, nor the halfassed pleas you offered amongst your frenzy. Although Loki had made that a point, both his hands and cursed cloth slowed.

The sweat shinner across your brow, the way your chest heaved and retracted against the bunched-up fabric of the clothes he had conjured onto your beautiful skin; there was nothing to you Loki didn't adore. You were trust, warmth, acceptance, something that was all too rare. He smiled down at your goofy and exhausted grin, finally ending his reign over the bedsheets and lowering your body fully onto the sofa. The sheet draped loosely around your ankle as if it had been the remnants of morning or perhaps a mid-afternoon nap. The wild state of your clothing and hair suggested as much, if not something more suggestive. Love and affection were strange. Not foreign, but peculiar. Loki had not realized that falling in love could physically be felt in the chest, like magnetism that would prayerfully result in his arms embracing you. 

In a crowded room, his eyes fell heavy onto you. The way when you spoke, your words almost fell too quickly out of your mouth. Your skill as an agent, your sharp wit, your humor - Loki's thoughts fell onto his mother's face, and how desperately he wished he could bring you home to Asgard to show her what - who - he had won. And yet, you were more than just a prize. You were more than just the exterior shell of the hardened agent you had to become. You were you. That was enough. 

There were many parts that of you that Loki had yet to explore. Natasha's words and advice rang in the back of his head, but he knew that they came from a place of protectiveness for you. There were so many possibilities to who you were, what had happened, where you even came from. Midgard was large, Asgard immense, the cosmos enormous. With each individual came a story, and the stories he had heard throughout his years put lead in his stomach. The Avengers were not known for cheery origins, that was evident enough. While he craved to know what fueled your drives, he was unwilling to push past what you were acquiescent to share.  

"I don't hate it," You mumbled, snatching Loki from his thoughts. A deep blush dusted your cheeks, and you turned your head to the side, tugging on your wrists (which Loki yielded) and covering your face. "If anyone is doing it, I'd rather it be you."

Once again, the familiar tug of Loki's heart blossomed in his chest. He felt his jaw square but did nothing to stop it, allowing his face to bear emotions he had concealed for what felt to be ages. You reached up to him, taking his jaw in your hands. His chin was stiff beneath your sliding thumb, his skin smooth and unblemished, save for smile lines that had etched themselves to the sides of his nose. 

"What are you thinking about?" You asked. 

Loki's hand mimicked your gentle hold on his face, caressing the apples of your cheek. "I...have done things. Some unspeakable," he admitted, searching for something in your face. 

"Things I already know about."

"Yes," his voice faded. Years of suffering, loneliness, and pain strong enough to shake ground shadowed his face. "Is this right? You don't feel...coerced." 

"No," you shook your head just enough so he could see beneath the dark of the room. "Don't focus on the past anymore. We're here. We're now. We've all done things we hate. All of us," you paused, the faded glow of a taxi's headlights passing over his features. "I...just want to be with you."

"I'm here," Loki rustled, leaning down to your lips. 

In the story that Loki had told in his fruit-drunk stupor, he had spoken of a world painted with crimson and gold. The air tasted like bourbon, and the crowds pulsed with energy as musicians cheered in their corners. Among the throng of people had been a girl, dancing by herself in the middle of a busy floor, her dress bright and how its ruby pigment stole eyes from onlookers. She twirled and laughed, holding the skirt down with her hands. Loki had not told his companions about his visions afterward and instead let them begin their own fables, but Loki had seen more than just that girl. He had seen her take his hand and lead him into a dance. He had seen the sparkle of solar systems in her eyes and stars glittering in her pupils. He had tasted the tang of wine at your tongue, and now as he sat with you in intense reality and made quick work of his hands, the memory of his fantasy had reached its end. 

His tongue now tasted the perspiration he had caused personally, kissing and nipping at your neck, your collar, your stomach, your hips, your thighs...

With a look supplicating permission, a shy nod, and a smirk that made your knees shake, you once again found yourself trembling beneath the hands of the trickster god. 

[impactmintsfresh]

Promises

Summary : How Tony Stark met his little girl

Warning :  dd/lg, possessiveness, stalking, its not dark but I feel like I need to include these anyway

You had been Tony's little for a little while now. Shortly after the battle of New York you had gotten a job working at the coffee shop at Stark Industries. Your boss on your first day had been a little rude, telling you if you got the job to meet a superhero you were "shit outta luck" but you realised later how many people started and quit on her for that very reason. It took a while but she warmed up to you and things became easier.

After six months of working there was another battle. You spent most of it hiding behind the counter, eyes shut, humming the theme to one of your favourite cartoons pretending to be sat on the couch with a daddy, protected from the world. Eventually the noise stopped and it seemed the fighting ended but you couldn't bring yourself to move. 

Not long after there was a loud cough from the front of the counter. "I don't suppose you could manage a coffee?" You jumped up in surprise at the sound of Tony Stark. 

"Um of course Sir! What can I get for you?" You tried to sound professional looking at your bosses bosses bosses bos… well you get the idea. 

Tony had been expecting Ruth, his no nonsense barista who could probably fight a doom bot herself if it meant protecting her cafe. Instead he had found you. You looked like you had been crying and your lip was red, almost bleeding, from how hard you had been biting it. He was surprised how much it upset him to see you like this. 

Normally Tony was a black coffee kinda guy but he wanted to give you something to focus on. He was also trying not to think about you calling him sir.

"Surprise me!" While you got to work pulling out different things he carried on. "Why are you still here, why didn't you run for safety?" 

"I didn't know where best to go, and I ah, I thought you probably wouldn't let anything happen to your building so I was probably safe here." Tony had been very proud of the rebuilding of his tower so she wasn't wrong, he had purposefully directed the fight away from it. But that didn't mean this was the safest place for her. People tried to break in here all the time to steal from him and during a battle when he was away would be the perfect time. 

You had been so focused on the man behind you, you hadn't realised you had started making your favourite drink. Not knowing what the man would drink you carried on.

Tony winced slightly seeing the brightly-colored mix of more sugar than coffee you were preparing him. "Next time I will make sure you know where is safe to go, promise me you will go exactly where I tell you?" 

Tony wrapped his hands around the drink you were offering him as he said this and you could feel his fingers on your. He was staring so intently that you couldn't look away, you felt warmth filling your stomach as you tried not to show how much he was turning you on. 

You nodded your agreement, not wanting to open your mouth in case you gave away how little you were feeling after everything that happened in the last few hours.

"No, use your words." Tony wanted, no needed her to promise that she would keep herself safe. He didn't want to think too closely about that.

"I pwomise sir." You felt your cheeks heat up hoping that he didn't notice the slip, your voice hadn't been much louder than a whisper so there was a chance. Tony gave you a soft smile and finally took his hand away with his drink.

--

"Jarvis install something on her phone and make sure you keep her safe." 

"Of course Sir." Could computers smirk?

"Play back that last bit for me again."

Tony smiled hearing your quiet promise play again through the speakers in the lift. He took a sip from the sugary glittery concoction you had made him and hmm'ed at the taste of raspberries and vanilla. Not completely disgusting. 

--

There was another fight two weeks later, except this time you were at home watching it on the news. Your phone started buzzing annoyingly so you simply turned it over not wanting to be distracted from watching your Ton- your boss! flying around. Thankfully the fight seemed to be quite far away from you, but you were now too busy worrying about him.

The fight seemed to finish in a few hours and it turned out that there had been one of the robots in your neighborhood! You couldn't believe it when you had seen the footage of Thor landing only a few minutes from your apartment and ripping the thing apart.

Still a little shaken, you decided to make some warm milk and try to calm your nerves when you heard the front door open. 

Of course it was your luck to be robbed right now, they must think the police will be too distracted with the clean up. You grabbed the first thing you could see and started to slowly walk back towards the door. The butter knife fell to the ground when you saw the iron man suit in your living room relaxing on the couch.

Inside the mask Tony just raised his eyebrows at your weapon of choice.

"I thought I told you to get somewhere safe when fighting starts?"

Your mouth just opened and closed.

The face plate was removed and you could see Tony's face, slightly bruised but still as good looking as ever, "You pwomised me." He mocked the way you had said it and you felt the tears start to well up in your eyes.

"No waterworks now. You made a promise, little girl and I expect you to follow through on those." He stood as he said this, walking towards you as the suit of armor fell away around him. You looked down, the guilt of clearly worrying someone you thought didn't care, was too much.

"I, I am um sorry." 

"Sorry what?"

"I'm sorry sir." You looked at him again as the tears started to fall. Tony cupped your face and brushed his thumb over your cheek wiping away your tears.

"Hm I think you have had a long day, time for bed." That snapped your right out of it.

"It 6pm!"

"Think of this early bedtime as a punishment for breaking your promise."

"How was I even supposed to know there was a bot, or where to go?" You were determined to fight this, you didn't need to go to bed early you weren't a baby.

Tony just held up your phone, the alerts were clear as day. At least a dozen warnings and messages of the safest places to go. The last one even warned that Tony was on his way.

"How?" Your thoughts were swimming. Why did he care so much?

"We will talk more in the morning, for now bed."

--

The fight had left you after that and you let him push you into the bathroom. Tony helped you brush your teeth but left you to "go potty baby". If you hadn't been in little space before you felt yourself plummeting into it after that.

He had picked out some pjs for you, clearly having no problems going through your draws while you had been busy finding your little things. He helped get you dressed, holding the shorts for you to step in while you used his shoulders to stay steady. "Arms up" as he pulled the shirt over you.

You had giggled in surprise when he lifted you up and put you into bed, putting one of your stuffies into your arms. He looked around before finding your paci, when he did you opened your mouth to put it in, far too little to care about what was happening.

"Stowy?" You looked at him hopefully, no one had read you a bedtime story in years.

"Stories are for good little girls you do as they are told." You pouted. "Next time I promise." He winked at you, filling you with hope that he wouldn't just leave.

Tony gave you a kiss on the forehead and left you to sleep.

"Night Daddy." You were half asleep and if his face hadn't been so close to yours he might not have heard it. Tony had been questioning why he cared so much about you since the day he met you but right then he didn't care anymore. He would make you his, keep you safe, love and protect you. It was a promise he made to himself.

"Night baby."

--

Tony was still there the next day when you woke up. He told you he had slept on the couch but the reality was he had been making arrangements all night. The penthouse was now complete with a playroom and nursery. The panic room had been redesigned to be more baby-friendly. He had filled the place with clothes, toys, snacks, toys, and everything else his little girl might want. 

They had talked all morning, while Tony made her eat some cereal. Eventually he had gotten her to agree to move into the tower with him, if he promised to keep your apartment. 

You had been together for almost a year now, you had never been back to your apartment but if you did it would look exactly the same as the day you left. You loved your daddy and the life you two had. The rest of the team had accepted you and now your life was filled with the world's most overprotective aunts and uncles.

[may-fanfic]

When All Else Fails, Kiss Me 

summary: the powers you have are quite similar to Wanda’s and an  unbreakable bond is formed between the two of you. After months of pining, Tony’s hatches up a plan to make the two of you official. 

warnings: none 

word count: 2,150 

masterlist 

((feel free to send in any request you may have 💕)) 

--------

You moved through the warehouse, oblivious to the girl who silently moved behind you. It had been easy for wanda to get into people's heads, so she hadn't been concerned when she made herself known to you. You had been quick to spin around at the sound of her voice. wanda felt her breath get caught in the base of her throat. She had never seen someone so beautiful. Wanda almost forgot what she had been in the warehouse for, then it dawned on her, and that's when her eyes grew red.

She had tried a million times before to get into your head and manipulate your thoughts, but she had no way in for some reason. She had been so stunned that she gasped lightly, backing away from you, watching as your own eyes began to glow a soft blue. "don't worry, I won't hurt you." you had been there to catch the girl and turn her into the avengers, you knew they wouldn't hurt her, but you could see the fear in the girl's eyes.

It made you rethink your decision to turn the girl in. "wanda, I need you to trust me." your eyes had been a calming blue that made her feel secure. She wanted everything to trust you, but you had been one of them, and she knew better than ever to get involved with someone from stark industries.

"we're not bad people, wanda." she had rocked her jaw side to side, finally feeling the way everyone else felt when she would read their minds. She hadn't liked it. "I just want you to be safe." in all honesty, you hadn't been lying, but you also knew that you needed wanda in your team. she had been unstoppable, and if ultra got her, you'd be quickly compromised, and ultra would win.

your earpiece boomed with steve's voice, and you quickly replied. "I hadn't seen wanda." your eyes turned your standard shade before you met her gaze again. "think about what I said." and with that, you turned and left the young witch. She had been stunned and felt glued to her place before running off in the other direction.

-----

It hadn't taken long for Pietro and Wanda to join the Avengers, and while she had been relieved to finally be able to settle down after what felt like her whole life of fighting, she could never shake her first incident with you. You had been so kind, gentle with her, and she felt like it had been up to her to repay you somehow.

She always wished she could meet you under other circumstances. The longer wanda knew you, the more stable she felt. Your friendliness had not just been a façade to make the girl trust you, you had genuinely just been the most loving person she had ever met, and Wanda had been more than grateful that she had a friend despite her need for more.

It had been movie night which turned into some tradition with Wanda and Pietro. While getting to know them, they shared that movie night with their parents had become a ritual, and it had been their fondest memories right up until their last one. You had felt like it was your responsibility to make it up to them and continue it with the twins, still, as the time when on Pietro realized that those movie nights had turned into something else for you and wanda. As much as he enjoyed the time spent with his sister and best friend, he wanted to give his sister the space to make a move.

You were cuddling up to Wanda under the blanket. Your head resting softly against her shoulder as her favorite sitcom played on the big screen. She was grinning and giggling at every joke, and you found it endearing. She had always been the happiest during these moments. You didn't understand her attraction to these cheesy sitcoms. Still, whenever she suggested one, you happily obeyed. "this is my favorite part." she quietly spoke through her smile. You perked up, placing your full attention on the screen, chuckling along with her when the husband fell down the stairs but stood right back up.

You settled back onto her shoulder when the scene was over, and wanda found yourself smiling down at you.

It had been a while since wanda found herself truly happy; it was almost too good to be true. She wanted to understand you completely; she wanted to know you inside out. She wanted to know what you thought about her, exactly how you felt, and she knew the only way she could get a clear reading of that was if you let her in. Her hand came up to rest against your head, caressing your locks gently before her lips parted to asked the question.

"can I use my powers on you?" her cheeks had been a tint of pink as her hand moved from your head to your shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. You adjust yourself to look at wanda thoroughly, your gaze gentle and your smile soft. The question itself had been intimate, she was asking for her way in, into somewhere sacred and only yours, and you knew once she had listened to everything for herself, things would change, but it had been a change you were willing to go through for her.

You let a soft giggle escape your lips as your cheeks grew a light pink to match her own, your smile erupted butterflies into that pit of her stomach, and she couldn't help but match your smile. "of course, maxi." you uttered out teasingly.

You sat up straight, facing the girl with a cheeky grin, and despite her nervousness, she still reached forward, her hand coming to rest softly against your cheek, stroking your skin tenderly.

"you can't hurt me," you whispered, noticing the hesitation in her eyes, reaching up to grab the hand placed on your cheek before guiding it to your forehead. she let out a gentle breath. You watched as her eyes turned the shade of red before you fluttered your eyes shut, taking in every way that the girl felt. It hadn't taken long before wanda finished, a gentle smile placed on her lips as she gazed at you. Everything she needed to know, she now knew. She had felt a sense of comfort and completion.

Wanda's gaze snapped from you to the tv, grinning lightly at the scene that played out, pointing at the screen, and eagerly telling you to watch it. You didn't need to use your magic to concur how wanda felt for you, so you had been content, moving back to your previous position leaning against her shoulder once again, watching the silly sitcom again.

------

Wanda came off as reversed to everyone else, but she seemed to be a different person with you. It made it clear for her teammates that she had liked you. It didn't sit right with them that the both of you had been denying your feelings for so long, so they took it upon themselves to hatch up a plan to get the both of you alone together, long enough to confess.

The Avengers assured you the nature of your getaway to the cabin in the woods was for nothing more than a mission. However, when you arrived at the set location, they never picked up your calls for the details.

Letting out a gentle sigh, you made your way into the living room, where you found Wanda sitting. Her head was down as she looked at something in her hands. "anything yet?" you questioned, causing her gaze to snap up to you. "I don't think we'll be hearing for them," she answered, extending her arm out to hand you a piece of paper.

Your eyebrows fluttered together as you took extensive steps to reach out for the paper. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at the written note in hand. 'Enjoy your private getaway, Sincerely, The Avengers.'

Of course, they would do something like this, especially Tony, who had an act for fixing people up. "This is absurd," you commented, setting the paper aside on the coffee table. Wanda shrugged as she took in the state of you. you had been wearing the nightclothes you packed, freshly out of the shower. "I don't know, it's kinda nice," she whispered, causing a gentle breath to fall past your lips, letting your shoulders drop in defeat.

"We should be back in the tower, prepping for the mission, maxi." Wanda stood up from her seat, a smile playing its way onto her lips.  "What is it? You don't want to be alone with me?" she teased playfully, a fake pout tugging at her lips as she neared you.

"You know that's not it," you whispered, arms wrapping around your body to find some comfort. "Then, let's just relax." Wanda urged, smiling down at you. Wanda and yourself have been working your ass to the bone for the job, and you knew that some relaxation would do you good. Besides, there wasn't anyone else in the world you'd enjoy wining down with more.

Both you and wanda had some unresolved feelings towards each other, and even after the night she looked into your brain, you'd never talk about it with her.

----- You and Wanda had been full of giggles after cracking open a bottle of wine you found in the cabin. The two of you sat in the living room, just enjoying each other's company before you called it a night. You had never stood up so late, considering you had set training times with Nat.

You have never seen Wanda so drunk before, and it had been amusing, to say the less. You managed to drink more than Wanda, but yet the girl seemed more intoxicated than ever. The moment had been pleasant, and if you were honest, you never wanted it to end.

"You were right. This is nice," you confessed, smiling down at your wine glass. Wanda hummed in agreement, quickly growing serious for a moment causing your eyes to snap up to Wanda. "you know..." wanda whispered out, her eyes meeting yours. Your eyebrows rose in question, waiting for the girl to continue.

"Tony told me all about his plan to get us out of the compound," she confessed after some time. You watched as her fingers moved around the brim of her glass, and you noticed the way her cheeks turned a bright pink color. "Oh," you uttered out, surprised that Wanda had something to do with this poorly constructed plan.

"Tony knew you wouldn't have approved," she spoke shyly, a frown forming on her lips. "why didn't you tell me?" it wasn't that big of a deal; you didn't mind much in hindsight. She shrugged lightly, her eyes snapping away from yours with embarrassment. "I didn't want you to say no."

"Tony is Tony, Maxi... I would've said yes to you." you'd never say no to wanda, in all honesty. The word didn't exist in your vocabulary when it came to her. You'd do anything she'd ask of you. That's how you knew you were completely and utterly in love with Wanda.

Wanda just wanted you to herself for some time. That's why she even agreed to Tony's plan. You were always so occupied with training and other things that Wanda hardly got the time to relax with you. She set down her glass on the coffee table, giving you all her attention.

"I just wanted alone time." her words made a small smile form on the corners of your lips. "why?" you questioned softly, wanting to force it out of her that she was just as in love with you as you were her. She had never actually said it, and as patient as you tried to be, you could only take it for so much longer.

She let out a sigh, her eyes burning into yours. "You know why," she replied, your eyes narrowed at hers, a grin finding its way onto your lips.

"Say it." you urged, inching dangerously closer to her until you hardly had space left. You could feel her breath fan out over your face as she tried to find the right words to say to you. When she felt as words wouldn't have done her feelings justice, she leaned forward until her lips collapsed with yours. The kiss was short and sweet, but it still made up for all the times she hadn't said enough.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" the girl childishly uttered out after the initial shock of the kiss worn off. a soft giggle escaped your lips as you nodded, causing a goofy smile to form on wanda’s lips before she leaned in to grace you with another kiss.

You made a mental note to thank Tony for his genius plan.

[youryanderedaddy]

Hello, do you accept order? If yes, you could make a single one shot of Yandere! Brat Spoiled, please...

What would it be like if Yandere were the son of wealthy parents who always have everything they want, when they don't always get what they like, always act like a spoiled brat (and also his parents are afraid of their son, as they have already seen what he is capable of when he gets angry)... that's where the reader comes in. She is a new student at school, a nice and kind person, so the yandere knows her and falls in love so strongly that she never felt that way in life, but the reader is always rejecting her advances for being a spoiled brat and the way he treats the people around you.

What happens next?

Title: Eat the poor

Tw: non - consensual touching, obsessive/possessive behavior, violence, low-key bullying, blackmail / coercion, reader is in university

Part 2

It had started during your very first year of college, back when you still felt motivated to go to school and meet new people. You had heard the rumors about him before ever meeting his gaze and oh, did they disappoint.

You met Gabrielle for the first time when the snowdrops bloomed and the birds returned home – in the early autumn, at night, in a small crowded room reeking of alcohol, sweat and cheap cologne which you quickly realized wasn’t his. The man smelt like the cigarettes he never got bored of and sweet caramel. He was wearing a big leather jacket and a pair of dark jeans, yet the simplicity of the outfit seemed to suit the expensive brands displayed on the clothing. In a way the student represented the typical youthful boyish beauty with his golden locks, eyes the color of the sky and frame tall and well – built. Yet his face remained motionless the whole night and his body stayed still despite the mass of bodies dancing around in rhythm. But then some poor unfortunate fool managed to bump into the male, spilling his drink all over him, and his pretty face quickly twisted into a mask of disgust and anger.

“You stupid piece of shit!” The male yelled shortly after as his fist connected with the stuttering boy’s stomach. His clear eyes were now two wild thunderstorms pouring rain and lightning over the tipsy guy who was nervously apologizing and promising to pay for the damages done. “Do you know how much this costs?” Gabrielle spat with venom and pushed the other onto the floor, bringing his black sneakers to that white shirt until there was a mark of dirt formed on the otherwise clean fabric. Everyone else in the room had stopped drinking now and all the eyes were pinned onto the two men yet no one had the courage to do anything. Your own heart was beating hard in your chest at the sudden display of unnecessary violence but you had always been a calm kid, a kind soul too scared of its own shadow to learn how to fight properly. So you had no idea what to do.

“My father can have you expelled, you know.” The blond man suddenly spoke out in a quiet eerie voice as he pressed his foot harder into the shorter boy’s stomach causing him to whimper and squirm. “Unless you are willing to beg for my forgiveness, that is.” The bully proposed with a sly smirk on his pink lips as he glared at the victim underneath. The student on the ground was clenching his eyes tight so no one could see the tears in them when he shook his head no. You finally decided you couldn’t let this inhumane scene go any further.

“Stop this madness right now!” You shouted manically, drawing all the attention to yourself as you made your way between the two men. Gabrielle immediately pinned his burning gaze on you in unhidden intrigue. “This is too cruel. He didn’t mean to bump into you. Please, leave him alone.” As much as you had wanted to curse at the spoiled rich boy there was this suffocating feeling in your lungs telling you to be careful and play the mediator. The others quickly started gasping and some were already gossiping at your reaction proving your point that the guy was indeed dangerous.

Then he looked you straight in the eyes with his deep blue ones. He chuckled softly before smacking his lips in an unpleasant way, his “tsk” sending shivers down your spine. You had fucked up. “Well, well, well… Looks like the new girl wants to play hero. How cliché.” The bully grinned as he let his gaze roam up and down your body, your cheeks turning red in return when having realized he was handsome even while doing something so vulgar. “But if you do want to help him so badly…” The golden – haired man paused for a moment pretending to be deep in thought. “Maybe we could have a little deal, bunny.” He moved his leg away from the sobbing boy and stepped in front of you. From this close you could feel the warmth of his skin and the sweet aroma of burnt sugar it radiated. Gabrielle tilted your chin up almost gently and whispered in your ear “Kiss me.”

You tried to break free from the uncomfortable pose but the student simply squeezed your jaw line harder, his eyes cold and calculating, following your every move. You mind went blank and foggy at the forced intimacy and you couldn’t think straight with his breath on your neck. It felt like the time had slowed down just so the sadistic snob could mess with you a little longer. You opened your mouth to voice your protests but fortunately you didn’t have to say anything because at the very same time the host of the party appeared, ready to stop the fight.

“Gabrielle, I’d have to ask you to leave.” The dark – haired junior growled enraged as he pushed the taller male away from you. You couldn’t help but smile at him in appreciation. He was the only one brave enough to help you after all. “You are ruining the party for everyone. ” The stranger continued. The blonde seemed irritated at the sudden interruptance yet it was obvious he was powerless against the owner of the house. Still he grit his teeth and signed in annoyance as he turned to face the host. “Fuck you, Jackson!” The man cursed but eventually moved towards the door, red with anger. “My father will hear about this.” He looked at you as he reached for the golden doorknob, his features softened. “See you around, bunny.”

This was the first time you met Gabrielle. You already wished it was the last.

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

After the incident the snob seemed interested in you, blatantly so. He would eye you up in the halls like you were a shiny new toy in a claw machine and try to strike a conversation no matter how much you ignored him. The man never once apologized for what happened at the party but at least he didn’t bring it up so you counted it as a small victory. You gradually understood just how much power and money the heir had. His father owned casinos, hotels, banks and apparently even the university you two were studying in received major monthly donations by the big businessman. This explained why everyone was so scared of the blonde, especially when he did nothing but flaunt his status at the slightest inconvenience. And now he wanted you.

In your eyes the boy was just an annoying brat who lived off daddy’s hard work, there really wasn’t much to him that intrigued you. The male was handsome, pretty even, but his grades were terrible and his interests were bland and shallow, mostly involving expensive brands and grand parties. But the worst thing about him was his personality. The snob treated his friends like servants and his enemies like dirt, but you he rather saw as a challenge. Gabrielle would ask you out every time you were unlucky enough to run into him. The first time the man gave you so many roses you couldn’t even count them, the second he demanded your affection with a silver necklace in hand ready to cover your neck in his mark of ownerships. You couldn’t recall all the other gifts the blonde used to try and court you with but you remembered refusing each and every one.

“Why can’t you just give me a chance?” He exclaimed one day after you had just returned the expensive bracelet you had found in your locker. It was a dark winter night and the heir seemed irritated with you for the first time, his eyes a deep electric blue just like the sky. The man had you cornered against the wall but you were used to his pathetic attempts at intimidation. Yet today there was something different in the air around him, some small voice at the back of your head wondered whether this time he wasn’t just joking around. “Are you still angry about that little wimp I expelled, bunny?” Gabrielle asked contemptuously yet his pupils remained cold and distant. Once again he was too close for your liking, too close for you to function properly, but that was probably exactly what he wanted. You to be compliant and obedient like all the others who crawled and kneeled at the very sight of him. “Or are you sulking because I beat up Jones after he asked you out, hmm?” What? The blonde man was the one who gave Tony the black eye? But he had told you it was just a street fight… Why had your friend covered for the bully you both hated?

“Why would you do that to him?” You whispered, staring at the twisted boy in front of you. Your heart was beating fast and your blood was boiling hot in your veins but you couldn’t let him win by showing him how much his actions affected you. Gabrielle reached out and cupped your cheek gently before smirking mischievously. “He was trying to take something that belonged to me.” The heir said casually as if he was talking about the weather. His fingers were cold against your warm skin and you fought the urge to vomit right then and there. “I am not yours.” You spat out with poison and pushed his hand away from your face. Next thing you know his knee was separating your thighs, lifting your short black skirt up, his breath lingering on your neck. “S-stop.” You stuttered and tried to squirm out of his hold but the man easily caught your wrists and brought them above your head, pinning you further into the wall. He was stronger than he looked and you felt so small and helpless in that moment you could have cried if your stubbornness hadn’t prevailed.

“What don’t you like about me?” The blonde suddenly spoke out, his voice unnaturally broken and needy, bordering on a whine, crying out in desperation. You weren’t sure whether he was trying to manipulate you now or if he actually wanted you to answer so you decided to be honest anyways. “I hate the way you treat other people. I could never love someone as cruel as you.” You inhaled deeply, ready to voice all the painful thoughts you had kept inside since the beginning of the semester. “You are spoilt rotten. Metaphorically and literally.” The man was breathing sharply like a wounded animal after hearing your words and as much as you wanted to sympathize with him, you couldn’t bring yourself to after everything he had done to you and your friends. He was irredeemable. “Let me go.” You finally demanded, hoping to use him weakened emotional state to your advantage.

Instead Gabrielle clenched his teeth and squeezed down harder on your already bruised wrists causing you to whimper in dull pain. His eyes were wet but the tears had finally stopped just like his willingness to show you his vulnerable side. The man had tried being nice and sweet to you, patient, then mean and patronizing, and neither worked. So obviously it was time to become the terrifying bratty monster everyone was so keen on believed he was.

“Have you noticed how many people seem to go missing after talking to you just once?” The heir whispered in your ear as his free hand traveled down to your waist, drawing you into his hard chest. You groaned at the sudden realization that the snob was actually right, less and less guys seemed to show up to your shared lectures in the last few months, but you had always assumed they just needed a break from school. University was stressful after all. “Did you…” You started off but couldn’t find the right words. Did you force your father to expel them? Did you harm them? Maybe a part of you didn’t want to know the answer. “I did.” Gabrielle responded before you could even finish the sentence. The sly smirk you knew way too well adorned his lips and it wasn’t hard to see he had already won. “And I will keep doing it until you agree to be mine and mine alone.” The man stated confidently as he sucked the sensitive skin of your neck until you arched your back in shock, your eyes rolling up to the ceiling. “N-nhgg.” You whimpered as you felt his teeth dig into your warm flesh leaving a scarlet mark for all to see. “Come on, baby, we both know you are too good to let them suffer because of your own selfishness.” He taunted you as he left a line of small wet kisses along your exposed collarbone. You wanted to argue, to yell at him how you weren’t the crazy, selfish one, but deep down you knew it was pointless. Gabrielle had power and you had nothing to bargain with. He could have anyone yet he wanted to torment you. “Give into me. I promise I can make you happy if you let me.” The blonde uttered softly as his lips brushed against yours, almost touching them, following your reaction with his clear eyes. Your own were puffy and red from the tears but he didn’t seem to care much about your misery and discomfort. The man wished to own, not to please, but you couldn’t do anything. And of course you wouldn’t let him ruin the lives of the innocent. Of course your stupid heart was too good and human for your own good. So you closed your eyes and slowly connected your lips with him even though they tasted almost metallic, like blood and defeat.

“I knew you would come around, bunny.”

[vacant--body]

MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING: Su!c!de attempt, graphic description of bl00d, mentions of death, medical procedure talk, loss of pregnancy, PTSD, lots and lots of angst, mentions of drinking.

Female!reader, love triangle with Steve and Bucky (kinda?)

Word count: roughly 2,076

Please don't read if any of these warnings will trigger you :)

I'M SO SORRY PLEASE DON'T HATE ME

✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿

Bucky's eyes snapped open, his advanced hearing honing in on the soft wails coming from down the hall. It was you, it always you. He inhaled sharply and pushed himself out of his warm bed, his dog tags clinking against his bare chest. It gets worse when Steve isn't here; your night terrors. He's the only one that can rock you back to sleep, soothing your tear stained cheeks and calming your raging mind. Bucky isn't very good at it, but he can get the job done.

His door slid open and he walked quietly down the hallway, careful not to wake anybody else up. Tony had to semi soundproof your room. When you first came to live in the compound, your screams would keep everyone up all night. Now only Bucky and Steve could hear your cries, which often made for sleepless nights. But lately it’s been getting better, which he was thankful for. Both for your sake and his sake.

Bucky stopped in front of your door, expecting it to just slide open like it normally does. But it didn't. Confused, he waved his hand in front of the sensor but it didn't budge. "Friday?" He yawned, annoyed. What couldn't Tony just put in normal doors? They're so much simpler. "What's wrong with the door?"

"It seems that Ms. Y/L/N has locked it." Strange. You never lock it.

"Well, unlock it." He snapped back at the AI.

"I cannot. She has over-ridden my capabilities to unlock it."

"What?" Bucky asked, suddenly more awake. The hairs on his arms stood up and a gut wrenching feeling began to churn in his stomach. He could hear you on the other side, still crying. "Y/N!" Bucky yelled pounding on the door. The cries grew harder. "Y/N open the door!"

"Go away!" You screamed. "Just go!" This wasn't a night terror, you were awake. “I don’t need you, Bucky!”

"Friday, get Tony down here." Bucky yelled, pounding on the door again. "Y/N please just open the door! Let me help!"

"Don't need your help." There was the sound of the bathtub starting up. "Just go."

"Bucky,” A tired voice groaned from behind him. Sam. "It's 2:30 in the morning, why in the hell are you screaming."

"Y/N locked us out." He muttered, pressing his ear against the door. He could hear you whimpering on the other side. "Friday can't open it."

"Friday, get Tony-"

"He is on his way." She replied back. "Ms. Y/N also disabled her cameras. I can't see inside there either."

"Y/N!" Bucky tried again, his voice cracking just enough for him to notice. Hopefully not enough for Sam to notice.

"Does someone wanna tell me why I am down here in the middle of the god damn night?" Another voice said behind them.

"Just get the fucking door open." Bucky snarled. Tony took note of the worry and urgency in his voice and unlatched a panel that was next to the door. He moved some wires around and the door hissed open.

Bucky rushed in and the state of your room hit him like a truck. It was a wreak. Your mattress was halfway off of its frame, your dresser was knocked over with all the clothes torn out, and there was a smashed chair in the corner. You had also punched out your mirror, making Bucky's footsteps crunch as he walked through her room. How did he not hear this? Why didn't he wake up? But that's not what bothered Bucky. His nose instantly picked up on a coppery smell that stung the inside of his nostrils, making him instantly nauseous. He pushed into the bathroom, where somehow the cupboard was shoved in front of.

The sight before him was enough to make him cry and vomit at the same time. You were submerged in the bathtub, the water stained a bright red color. A long shard of glass from the mirror was laying on the floor, stained with your crimson blood. Two deep long cuts had been carved into your forearms. The ringing in his ears slowly subsided and he heard the sound of either Tony or Sam dry heaving behind him. He wasn't sure who it was.

"Friday, prep medical bay. Get Banners ass up. Now." He heard Tony growl.

Bucky sunk to his knees, his sweatpants become stained with the blood soaked water that had sloshed over the edge. "Y/N." He muttered. She was pale. Too pale. "Y/N!" He yelled grabbing her by the shoulders. “Open your fucking eyes and look at me!" You didn't open her eyes, the only movement was coming from your chest. You were taking quick short breaths, which Bucky figured wasn't good. "Please don't do this to me, please. I need you, fuck-" He choked back a sob.

"Buck, we have to get her down to-" Before Sam could finish his sentence, Bucky was lifting you out of the water and took off towards the med bay.

Banner was already down there, a suturing kit already laid out. "How much blood has she lost?" He asked immediately as soon as Bucky came barreling through the doorway.

"A lot." Was all he could manage. He carefully laid you down on the cot. His thoughts were going a mile a minute. You were supposed to be getting better. Sam and Banner were supposed to be helping you, the therapy was supposed to be helping. Not killing you. Why wasn’t it helping? Why were you so selfish? How could you do that to us? To me, to Steve. To this whole team?

"Well good thing most of the team is A Positive so we have some on standby for her." Banner said. Bucky wasn't sure if he was talking to him or to himself.

Banner flushed out your wounds with what looked like water, and carefully began to stitch you up. Bucky noticed the slight shaking in his wrist and he pulled your skin together.

"Where is Steve?" Bucky whispered to Tony, not taking his eyes off of Y/N and Banner. For once, you looked like you were at peace. Your features were smoothed and relaxed, nothing like your previous state.

"His teams on their way back. ETA 4 hours." Tony whispered back.

A heavy silence fell over the med bay. Bucky felt drained. He couldn't keep his thought straight in his head, and it was numbing. He just kept asking the same thing. Why? You were doing so good. You were laughing, smiling, and actually making progress to talk to people outside your comfort zone. Of course you were still having night terrors, Sam said those wouldn't go away for a long time. But other than that you were fine. You said you were fine. He couldn't understand why.

Banner was done with one side. He moved over to the other and began to repeat the process, but one of the machines she was hooked up to began beeping rapidly. His head snapped up and his brows furrowed.

"Friday do a full body scan please." He grunted.

"What? What's wrong?" Bucky pleaded, his skin tightening and his stomach doing loops.

"Blood pressure is dropping. Not good." Was all he heard over the several machines firing at once.

"There is hemorrhaging. Location: uterus." Friday said back. "Surgery is recommended."

Banner quickly finished the last of the sutures and yanked your water and blood soaked sweatpants off. There was a large amount of blood pooling in between your legs.

"Bruce what is that?" Bucky yelled rushing over to them. "What's wrong with her, did she stab herself there?" He felt like he was going to vomit.

"Bucky-" He started as he fumbled with some tubing.

"What are you doing to her?!" Bucky yelled again his voice become more and more distressed. "You're gonna kill her please help her!"

"Tony get him the hell out of here!" Banner screamed finally, the Hulks voice peaking behind his anger and frustration.

Bucky was being yanked out of the bay by Sam and Tony. He could fight back easily, fight them off so he could be with you. But his legs were so shaky he could hardly stand on his own two feet. The windows that looked into the bay dimmed and Bucky caught one last look as Banner yanked down Y/N's underwear. A sob escaped from Buckys lips as he crumpled to the ground. What was happening now? Y/N must be so scared. He was so scared.

He felt that hot tears prick at his cheeks and dribbled down into his beard hair. He was crying. Crying for the first time in who knows how long. He couldn't loose you. You were the only one who truly understood Bucky. You meant too much to him.

"Buck-" Sam started but Bucky just cut him off.

"Leave me alone." He sobbed. It felt like a metal pipe had been shoved down Buckys throat. He couldn’t breathe. "Please just go away." Tony and Sam shared a look before the disappeared down the hallway.

He sat there for what seemed like days. But it was only hours. Soon enough Steve came jogging down the hallway to where Bucky sat.

"Buck." Steve gasped, kneeling down next to him. "What happened?"

"I thought she was having a night terrors." Bucky's voice was raw and it hurt to swallow. The crying must have stopped hours ago, but he couldn't remember when it ended. "But she locked me out. Tried to...tried to..."

"Oh god." Steve whimpered, understanding what he was saying. “Is she...?" Bucky shook his head.

"She started bleeding. I think Banners still doing surgery." Steve's face was screwed tightly together as he stood back up. Bucky couldn't tell what he was feeling. He paced the hallway for a bit before he slid down against the wall across from Bucky, his eyes blankly staring at the door. He could see the trembling in his chest when he inhaled.

They sat there in silence for about another hour, when suddenly, the doors to the med bay swung open. Banners eyes fell on them. He sighed heavily and put his hands in his pockets.

"What? What is it?" Bucky pleaded getting to his feet, which caused Steve to stand up.

"Is she okay?" Steve asked, his brows closely knit together.

"Yeah. She's stable. Woke up for a few minutes but she's sleeping now. I had to give her some medicine to calm her down. And I had to..." He trailed off. "Restrain her. She's very agitated." Bruce exhaled and wrung his hands together.

"Then what happened? Why did you have to do surgery." Bucky prodded. He could tell Banner was hiding something.

"The bleeding was caused by a mixture of shock and her blood pressure tanking. I couldn't-" He cleared his throat like he was keeping back tears. "I couldn't save the fetus. She miscarried."

It felt like someone had punched Bucky in the gut. Fetus? Miscarried? She was pregnant?

"From what I could tell she was about 15 weeks along. I ran the DNA because I wasn't...I wasn't sure who the father was."

"I had a child?" Steve whimpered. Tears were falling freely down his face.

"No, Steve.” He whispered softly. “Bucky, it was yours.”

"What? No. That's impossible." Steve scoffed. "You must have your science shit mixed up. There is no way."

"No, he's right." Bucky whispered, absolute shocking talking grip of his body.

"I'm sorry. It was a boy."

"What? No. No! It's wrong. Go test it again Banner! I know it's wrong!"

"Steve-"

"You were fucking her?!" Steve screamed, turning to Bucky. "You knew I was in love with her and you were fucking her?!"

"It was once Steve! Almost 3 months ago! We were drunk and you were away on a mission and I came onto her!" Bucky bargained, staring into the flames of his best friend’s eyes.

"You fucked my girl! My girl!" Steve was irate, barely able to contain himself.

"She isn't yours Steve, you're not even together!"

"I told her that I loved her! And you went and fucked her anyway! What, do you always follow your dick!? I bet that's why she refuses to look at you!"

"No, she told me that she loved me!" Bucky screamed back, his voice echoing in the hallway as silence washed over them. Bucky took a deep breath. "She said it first. And I told her it was a mistake and should be with you." He said quietly.

Steve let out an animalistic growl, and his fist made contact with the side of Bucky's cheek and the back of his head smashed against the wall.

"I love you Bucky." Y/N's soft voice said. Your head was currently buried in Bucky's bare chest. "It's you. It's always has been." You whispered.

Bucky reached down and cupped her cheek, making you look at him. He has been waiting to hear that since they first met. He didn't believe in love at first sight but ever since he first laid eyes on you, he started to believe.

"You don't mean that, doll." He muttered back. Alcohol was still running its course through their bodies. "You're drunk."

"Drunk words are a sober mans thoughts."

"Y/N-"

"I want you Bucky. Just you. No more going back and forth between you and Steve. I can't do that anymore, Bucky. Please believe me." You pleaded, your large eyes staring into his.

"You deserve someone like Steve, not like me. You can't love me." He sighed, letting go of your face.

"I love Steve. He’s amazing and kind, but I love I have for him isn’t like how I love you.”

"No. You love the thought of me." He snapped, rising off the bed. "But you don't love me Y/N. I promise you, you don't. You shouldn't." He gathered his clothes from the floor and shimmied into them. He reached the door and stopped at the sound of your voice.

"But-" Bucky winced at the sound of your voice as it was filling with tears.

"I'm sorry." He whispered turning away, his own eyes brimming with tears. "I don't deserve you. You can't love me. I'm sorry."

part 2