JUST A BITE

Mine

Prompt idea by: @fightclubendingscene

Tag: @superwholockbooknerd526

Thanking for @fightclubendingscene inspired me to write this as my first BBC sherlock x reader ^^

Tag: Jealous Sherlock, feelings, female reader

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

The first time you worked with Sherlock at 221B Baker Street, you fell for him at first sight. His intelligence was captivating, his mind a fascinating labyrinth of insights and analyses that seemed almost otherworldly. You were struck by how quickly he could piece together clues, revealing connections that others would overlook. There was a stoicism about him, a cool detachment that often made you wonder if he was, in some ways, more machine than man.

Yet, deep down, you sensed there was more to him—a complexity of emotions that he kept hidden beneath his sharp exterior. The way he approached each case was both brilliant and bewildering, making it hard to reconcile the thought that he might lack feelings altogether. You knew he was no machine; there was something profoundly human beneath his enigmatic façade that drew you in and made your feelings race each time you witnessed his brilliance in action.

As time passes, your feelings for him deepen, evolving into something more profound and complex. You find yourself constantly grappling with the notion that Sherlock Holmes, famously devoted to his work and often emotionally detached from others, might not reciprocate those feelings.

However, some moments ignite hope within you. In those fleeting seconds when your eyes meet, an unspoken connection lingers in the air before you both inevitably look away, your cheeks flushing with a mix of confusion and longing.

Then there are the rare instances when Sherlock expresses his sentiments through actions rather than words—small gestures that, at first, seemed insignificant but now stand out in sharp relief. The way he remembers your favorite coffee or the specific foods you love speaks volumes about his attention to you. These thoughtful details, once overlooked, now fill you with a sense of warmth and possibility, suggesting that beneath his stoic exterior, there may indeed be more to him than meets the eye.

John mentioned that he had never seen Sherlock behave in such a way before. It’s interesting to note that he has known the detective far longer than you have, which makes his insight all the more significant. Encouragingly, John believes that one day, both you and Sherlock will have the courage to reveal your feelings for each other.

Although he often feels like a third wheel, acting as a somewhat reluctant wingman in his friends' romantic escapades, he remains optimistic.

Until that fateful day when Irene Adler appeared at Baker Street, you found yourself returning the apartment after a trip to the market, the scent of fresh produce mingling with the cool, crisp air of a late autumn afternoon. As you stepped through the door, her captivating presence immediately drew your attention. She looked up from her poised position near the fireplace, her expression transforming into a warm, gentle smile that held a hint of seduction.

You placed the bags of groceries on the kitchen table, the clatter of jars and the rustle of paper momentarily breaking the spell of her gaze. In the background, you could hear Sherlock Holmes pausing mid-experiment, the unmistakable sound of vials clinking together fading into silence as he became aware of your arrival.

The atmosphere in the room shifted, filled with unspoken tension, as the two of you—one the immensely logical detective and the other a woman of enigmatic charm—interacted in a space that felt charged with possibility.

"Well, she's quite the adorable one! I had no idea you brought such a charming woman with you," Irene purred playfully. She stood up gracefully, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she gently tugged you toward her, drawing you both into the warm glow of the fireplace. The flickering flames danced around you, casting a soft, golden light that made the moment feel even more intimate.

Her eyes flickered momentarily over your shoulders, where she caught sight of Sherlock Holmes. His jaw was set tightly, and his hands were clasped firmly behind his back. He moved his knuckles in small, restless circles, betraying the turmoil brewing beneath his composed exterior. It was clear that he was grappling with a mix of jealousy and confusion, particularly regarding Irene's audacity in pulling you toward her.

John burst into the room, his breath still quick from a brisk walk along Baker Street. He paused mid-step, momentarily immobilized by the scene playing out before him. His eyes darted from Sherlock to Irene and then back to Sherlock as if trying to piece together the unfolding drama.

"‘Aren’t you a pretty little thing?’ Irene chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with interest as she leaned in closer. Her fingers brushed against your cheeks, the gentle caress sending a warm flutter through you. With a playful smile, she let her other hand rest on your chest, feeling the steady rhythm of your heart thundering beneath her touch.

At that moment, Sherlock unexpectedly tugged you closer, his firm grip pulling your back snugly against his chest. The suddenness of it caught John off guard, and he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the sight. It was a rare display of possessiveness from Sherlock, a side of him that John had never witnessed before.

His sharp gaze was locked onto Irene, filled with an intensity that seemed to burn right through her as if he was silently staking a claim on what he believed to be his. The air was charged with tension, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, an unfamiliar blend of protectiveness and desire that left you both exhilarated and slightly breathless.

"That's quite enough for today, Irene," Sherlock said, his voice steady and calm, though a slight tremor. Irene, ever perceptive, couldn’t help but notice the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke your name with a softness that seemed at odds with his internal struggle. "We have a case to attend to," he added, steering the conversation to business. "Is urgent."

"You don—" John starts yet Sherlock gave him a angry glare.

"Case?" Irene chuckled, she stepped closer, the playful tension in the air thickening. Suddenly, without warning, Sherlock wrapped his arms around you,it caught you off guard. You could feel the warmth of his embrace enveloping you, a stark contrast to Irene's playful challenge.

With a swift motion, she grabbed your wrist, gently yet insistently tugging you toward her, as if trying to reclaim your attention from Sherlock. It felt like a whimsical tug-of-war, both of them vying for your focus. "You don’t have a case today, Sherlock," Irene teased, a smirk on her lips, her tone light but daring. "You never said you have a case today."

"We have now," Sherlock said, his voice low and laced with tension as he clenched his jaw. He tightened his hold around you, pulling you closer to him, as he took a determined step back, forcing you to stumble slightly along with him. "Good day, Irene." he added, his tone firm and unyielding, as he slid his other arm securely beneath yours, guiding you toward the door with an unmistakable urgency.

As he led you away, his eyes flicked back to Irene, a storm of anger and jealousy swirling within their depths. The silent message was clear—he was claiming you as his own. Mine. The intensity of his gaze spoke volumes, a silent declaration that you belonged to him, and he would not easily let go. His footsteps echoed down the staircase, each thud resonating like the petulant stomp of a child denied.

In a nearby corner, John rubbed his weary face with both hands, disbelief etched across his features. He hadn't expected this turn of events at all. The way Sherlock tightened his hold on you, the possessive aura emanating from him, was unmistakable—he had finally revealed the passion that simmered just beneath the surface.

Game Nights

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Game nights in the tower are unpredictable.

Word Count: Over 900

Warnings: Humor, mentions of violence, the team loves trolling on John, kissing, implied smut, team bonding (kind of), Thunderbolts spoilers, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Silly headcanon set in the same world as Not Exactly a Secret and part of my Tower Shenanigans. I'm not at all sorry. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Game nights typically take place on Saturdays since Fridays are reserved for movie night. Snacks and drinks are a must, but there is a drink maximum, so things don’t get too crazy or emotional. 

Bucky purposely gets John the generic brand when it’s his turn to go snack shopping and tells him to deal with it since the quality is just as good. Everyone else gets the name brand of whatever they want. 

There's a huge board with all of your names and the games listed. The tally marks are in various colors, and sometimes names are erased and replaced with affectionate nicknames. 

When John demanded to know who changed his name to “the man with a punchable face”, Bob was ready to confess, but Bucky took the blame, followed by Yelena, you, and Ava. It was a real “I'm Spartacus!” moment. 

Anyone caught cheating is on clean-up duty. You and Bucky have both cheated on the same night so you could clean up together. 

There are occasional tournaments complete with medals and trophies. The gang insisted that participation ribbons were not allowed, but you found a funny last place trophy that you had to get and everyone agreed.

The gang tries to switch it up between classic games, video games, and children's games to keep things interesting. No matter what you play there is a level of competitiveness. 

You try not to rub it in when you win a game, but you will have a subtle smirk on your face when you catch Bucky’s eye. Alexei, on the other hand, loves to yell, “In your face!” while doing air thrusts and Yelena has come close to banning her dad from game nights because of it.

If it’s girls versus boys, the girls win almost every time. The boys can't figure out how, but it might have something to do with John and Alexei both trying to be the leader, Bucky being done, and Bob just wanting to have fun. 

Bucky picks you for any game that requires a partner or teammate outside of girls versus boys, even if there is someone better suited. He doesn't care because he always wants you by his side. 

Bucky also picks two-player games for the two of you to play while the rest of the gang plays something else. Yelena often does the same thing with Bob. 

Weapons aren't allowed. That rule should've been enforced from the beginning, but John insisted after Bucky threatened to stab him during a game of Uno. 

To be fair, John kept playing Draw 4 cards and everyone knew it was a dick move. Even John knew it. 

Bucky will switch to Russian when he gets frustrated or really into a game. He didn't realize it until Yelena and Alexei replied in Russian. 

Hide-and-Seek is banned. Ava kept phasing out of her hiding spots, and you and Bucky got caught fooling around in the coat closet. 

Truth or Dare is also banned. Too personal with the questions when it was meant to be a fun night and Ava kept daring you and Bucky to kiss each other, which you did.

Bob got nervous the first time you all played Among Us, but Yelena assured him it would be fun. It ended with a chair flipped over, which is considerably tame.

Bob also goes into any shooting game prepared to lose because look who he’s playing with? He still has fun with it.

You once sweet talked Bucky into playing Dance Dance Revolution and he did well, surprising no one. So did Yelena and Ava, and not a single one of them cracked a smile while they danced.

John takes Pictionary way too seriously, and you threatened to break the easel and stab him when he raised his voice at Bob. Bucky fell in love with you a little bit more. 

Ava encouraged you to flash Bucky once when he was winning at Mario Kart. You did and he looked, but he still managed to win. 

Yelena argues with Alexei during Jenga. She doesn't need him to tell her which block to move or distract her. 

You and Bucky always end up choosing each other's cards during Cards Against Humanity. You just get each other, and you love getting a laugh out of him every time he reads your card. 

Alexei insists that karaoke should be considered a game and he always wants to sing first, which embarrasses Yelena. He once serenaded you and Bucky because, well, he’s one of your biggest supporters. 

Card games are tense and Yelena usually ends up with the most money by the end of them. She prefers Poker to Blackjack. 

Bob was so happy the first time he won Clue that he almost cried. Everyone hugged him, knowing he never got the chance to have fun game nights growing up. 

John recently made a casual comment about wanting to play games like these with his kid. No one gave him a hard time because everyone could see how much he longed for it. 

Some game nights end with yelling and broken furniture, but more often than not they end with smiles, laughter, and a sense of normalcy. It’s a nice change of pace from some of the horrors you’ve faced, and a great way to bond. 

But Bucky will still find a way to stab John if he can if only to keep him on his toes. 

BAHAHA. What do we think? Any other games? What other shenanigans do we think they get up to in and out of game nights? Let me know! Love and thanks for reading.

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

horny on main

chill, Loki x GN!Reader

A/N: here to post a super duper quick oneshot in between my studying for finals. I couldn't resist this one, and it's very self indulgent as I deal with another bout of anxiety pains. Still, even if it's not particularly relatable to everyone, I hope it is still entertaining enough to be enjoyed <33 I hope to be back soon with more!

thank you to @cafekitsune for my usual choice of dividers! :)

(we don't get enough soft Loki smiles, okay? Loki's literally just a girl, this diva needs to smile more)

ALSO!!!

TW/CW: mentions to anxiety here!! Not a panic attack or anything, but reader is mentioned to be actively dealing with it and is dealing with anxiety related muscle tension

It was a loud thrum inside of you. You usually explained it as it being in your head, but you also felt it in the aches all over your body, your tense shoulders, in the feeling of your heart sitting heavy and uncomfortable in your chest. Every day felt like a new development. Some days, heat worked to ease the tension. Other days, it didn’t, and you had to sit there and let the uneasiness interweave itself with your being. Anxiety sucked.

For the past few days, you’d been dealing with really bad tension in the shoulders and neck. Whilst heat didn’t seem to be helping, ice was. So here you were, laying in bed on a weekend, an ice pack on the back of your neck easing the tension and the slight dizziness that came with it, your two worst companions lately.

“… What in the Norns?”

You  startle at the unexpected voice of your partner, Loki. The door to your bedroom was slightly open, and as he’d been walking by, he saw you lying on your stomach, ice pack on the back of your neck. You didn’t understand his offense.

“What is it?”

“What-” He scoffs. “What is it? Is that an ice pack, dearest?”

“Yes…? Are we cross with them at the moment?”

“Well, I might be amenable to that now.” He huffs, pointedly entering the bedroom and closing the door behind himself, as if to keep this entire conversation under wraps.

“What are you doing, my love?”

“… Icing my neck.” You say dumbly. You were clearly missing something. “I’m all tense again and anxious deep inside and it’s like churning upwards-” You cut your rambling off. Sometimes it felt like no one truly could understand what it was like. Especially because it was so different from person to person, too.

He sighs, moving to sit on the edge of your bed, a hand on your lower back. You can see his lip twitch briefly when you mention how tense you are, but he schools it, opting to be mature. For now.

“I am sorry you feel that way once again, my love.” He rubs your back gently. “But I am also deeply offended by your choice of tool this time around.”

You turn your head back around to look at him curiously, eyebrow raised.

He sighs dramatically, looking up to the ceiling briefly.

“You have chosen to use a measly packet of frozen, quickly melting, gelatinous mixture to ease your pains. Have you forgotten who you share your wonderful bed with every night?” He mirrors your raised eyebrow. A challenge.

Feeling particularly tired and drained, you can’t exactly figure out what he’s criticizing now.

“… You wanted me to use the bag of peas instead…? More surface are?”

He huffs indignantly.

“No. You have a wonderful, powerful, attractive, intelligent God in your bed, my darling.” He sits up higher as he talks, looking all proud. “What’s more, is that I am a Jotun. Or did your clever, delicious mind opt to forget that piece of information for today?”

As he talks, he leans over, pressing a gentle, fleeting kiss to your right shoulder blade.

“Loki… I know that. But this is a silly problem. Nothing too serious, and you always claim you’re ‘too busy’ to do stuff around the house.” You say gently, sighing with relief as you move the ice pack slightly to the left, letting it hit a new part of your neck.

He looks at the gel pack as if it has personally insulted his choice of Asgardian garb one too many times throughout his long life.

“My darling…” He croons, putting on that charming tone he likes to use when he wants to get out of something. Another kiss to your shoulder blade. “I don’t do things around the house because I am a God. And a Prince, if we must be specific. But you… I would do anything for you. What’s more, I love to do you.” He speaks slowly, the last bit evidently making him grin.

You huff, not dignifying him with a response to that salacious comment.

“That’s great, baby, but what are you offering here?”

“What am I offering? I am offering to be a mortal’s ‘ice pack’. You should be very, very honoured. Kneeling at my feet, even.” He murmurs.

“Maybe later.” You quip back dryly, turning back to rest your cheek against the pillow.

He makes an unhappy sound, and suddenly, the weight of the ice pack disappears from the back of your neck. Your hand reaches for it, trying to find it, when Loki’s suddenly finds yours.

“Do not fret, dearest. Your favourite little ice pillow is back in your freezing compartment.” He explains calmly, fingers interlacing with yours, his lips suddenly kissing your knuckles, too.

“It’s called a freezer, Loki.”

“Mm.” He hums noncommittally. “Do you still ache?”

“Yeah, but it’s not as bad.”

“Well, with the ice having abandoned you, I suppose I must rise to the challenge.” He sighs again, almost sadly, as if to express how difficult his life is.

As if he doesn’t lounge around your place like a cat every day.

“You’re the one who made the pack disappear, it’s literally your doing-”

“Shhh, shh, shh, shh.” He shushes you, petting your head like a mother would do to a fussy babe.

You feel almost offended enough to hit his chest or something. But he wouldn’t even care. In fact, he’d like it.

“Fret not, my dearest, sweetest love. You are in the hands of an expert masseur.”

“Lucky me. This won’t end in sex, though.” You warn him.

“Well… not before I’ve even started, no.” He agrees, chuckling softly at his wit.

Just as the back of your neck has started to go back to room temperature and you’ve eased your face back into the pillow, you jolt at the feeling of cold fingers on your neck.

There’s a snort from the (supposedly) very clever and sage God behind you.

“Oops… I forgot to warn you. My mistake.” He says with a tad of forced remorse.

He goes quiet for a bit, moving onto your shared bed in order to sit up against the headboard, letting his hand rest more comfortably and naturally onto your neck. There’s another brief fizz of magic, and then you hear him opening some book or other.

“You can rest now, my love.” He says tenderly, tone much more honest, now. “My hand shall stay there for as long as you need and bring you eternal relief. Unlike that ice pillow.” He mutters derisively.

“… Thank you.” Your answer comes softly, too.

He rubs a cold thumb over the back of your neck in response.

You both sit in quaint, comfortable silence for a while, the sound of book pages turning soothing you into near-sleep. As promised, his hand does not stray, move, or lift itself off your neck. Eventually, the cold of it even gets to be too much, and you move to reach for the blankets, intending to warm yourself up with them.

Loki’s side of the bed goes quiet, and his hand lifts off your neck. He tuts softly.

“What is it now, dearest? Are you cold, now?” He teases softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the cold skin of your neck. He could never resist.

“Mmhmm. Thank you for your services, babe, but I think that was enough for now.” You reply, still feeling a tad bit sleepy.

You pull the covers over yourself, and lay down with the intent of a nap. Your peace doesn’t last long at all, before Loki slides in beneath the covers with you, hands seeking you out and grasping at you. He attaches himself to you like a barnacle, and you can’t help your sleepy smile.

“I thought you were reading…?” You say lazily, words slow and tired.

“Well, yes, but I’ve read that story hundreds of times. It’s centuries old, darling. You are not.” He flirts, kissing your jaw.

“No, but you are.” You snort.

“I see how it is. I was going to offer you a massage, you know. One to warm you up, now that it’s clear just how sensitive you are to temperatures. Mortals… why was I even surprised?” He sighs. “That offer is certainly off the table now that you have called me old.”

He goes quiet again, and you nearly manage to fall back asleep. But of course, he goes back to talking all of a sudden.

“Might I remind you how very delightful I am as a bed partner, my love? Hm? Might I? We are formidable together. Truly. A true menace to your neighbors’ peace and respite. But yes… my mistake, of course. I am old.” He whispers into your ear, the quiet of it not at all enough to stifle his apparent offense.

“… Sorry.” You mumble back.

“Yes, well… I suppose that’ll do. I can’t expect mere mortals to be consistently eloquent, can I?” He murmurs, now focusing intently on kissing your neck, clearly deeming your half-assed apology satisfactory.

“You’re getting soft.” You tease. “You’re so easy to satiate nowadays.”

“Nonsense, dearest. On both counts.” He grins, biting your neck briefly.

Tom Hiddleston and Co Fic Recommendations

❤️‍🔥 - Smut

🤰 - Pregnancy/Parenthood

⚠️ - Potential Trigger

♾ - Neurodivergent!reader

❤️ - Soulmate AU

Love letter - @lov3nerdstuff

How long is forever - lov3nerdstuff

Elysian - lov3nerdstuff

Loki Laufeyson

Beautiful Stranger - lov3nerdstuff

Timeless - @muddyorbsblr

Gestures and rain checks - muddyorbsblr

All I could give you - muddyorbsblr

What makes a princess - muddyorbsblr

Bred by a Jotun - @lokisprettygirl ❤️‍🔥

Friendzoned - lokisprettygirl

Meet cute - lokisprettygirl

Just friends - lokisprettygirl

Narratives - @mochie85 ❤️‍🔥

Pheromones - mochie85 ❤️‍🔥

Thorns - @lowkeyorloki ❤️‍🔥

Mythology nerd - lowkeyorloki

True Form - lowkeyorloki

Cold Flower - @clandestineloki ❤️‍🔥

My darling - clandestineloki

Movie Night - @cleo-fox ❤️‍🔥

Safe House - cleo-fox ❤️‍🔥

Mistakes - @x-neurodivergent-reader ♾

Established relationship - x-neurodivergent-reader ♾

Stimming Significant Other - x-neurodivergent-reader ♾

To be a good man - @ladyfluff

Library love - @proseandpretrichor

Reasons to like you - @fluffyfantasticducky

Soulmate - @innaminitus ❤️

Meet me in the elevator - @lady-rose-moon

Stop and smell the flowers - @bellesque ❤️‍🔥

For science - @elenaysusneuras ❤️‍🔥

Crimson Clover - @munsons-maiden ❤️‍🔥

Santa Baby - @thedeathlysallows ❤️‍🔥

Bewitched - @michelleleewise ❤️‍🔥

His - @earlgreydream ❤️‍🔥

The Secret - @lokigodofmyheart

Teenage Dream - @lokisgoodgirl ❤️‍🔥

Visit Me - @imaginativemarvel ❤️

Breeding Kink - @buckyownsmylife ❤️‍🔥

Into the Void - @lokispettigerr ❤️‍🔥

Flower Crown - @bonky-n-steeb

Falling for a god - @emeraldiis ❤️‍🔥

To see you once more - @dragonsfictavern ❤️

1052 - @imamotherfuckingstar-lord ❤️

Raw Desire - @sserpente ❤️‍🔥

from the void with love - @whirlybirbs bestie i cried

You're a milf and I’m a motherfucker - @lanadelreyscokewhor3 ❤️‍🔥

Just another stark party - @acciotherapists ❤️‍🔥

I didn’t even notice - @vampy-doll ❤️‍🔥

Jotun Mating Season - @aesir-alchemist ❤️‍🔥

Reality Check Series - @ohmygoodnessgraciouss

Kneel, Mr. Laufeyson - @blueseasfanfics

A Perfect Proposal - @wrenhyperfixates

Every Excuse But Love - @billionairebratenergy

James Conrad

I’ve got you - lov3nerdstuff

You deserve better - muddyorbsblr

Friday nights & hot dates - muddyorbsblr ❤️‍🔥

Keep me safe - muddyorbslr ❤️‍🔥

Not a fever - muddyorbslr ❤️‍🔥

Lost and found - ladyfluff

Unexpected, but loved all the same - @merakiaes

Don’t touch that! - @just-the-hiddles ❤️‍🔥

Caught in a love web - @screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms

5 Times You Are Not Dating Bucky Barnes (and the one time you are) | Bucky Barnes x Reader | One shot - 2.6k words |

You're sick of saying it, Bucky is not your boyfriend, you are not dating you're just friends. Until...

Warnings: 18+ for some canon typical violence and for Sam and Joaquin being pains in the arse (affectionate). Friends to lovers vibes, idiots in love, dating but not dating.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics & @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

1

Bucky Barnes is not your boyfriend.

At least once a day these words come out of your mouth in some form and it's becoming so frequent now that you're considering just recording yourself and playing it back on your phone.

Colleagues, partners in the field, friends.

Not a couple.

Not dating.

"Did you hear that, Wilson? She said —"

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

Sam rolled his eyes at Bucky, sighing dramatically in a way that only Sam is really allowed to get away with. Bucky hadn't taken his eyes from your laptop screen or the secure file you were scrolling through.

"Look awful close though."

You looked up this time, the top of your head brushing Bucky's cheek, his breath was warm against your own and the contrast between his exhale and the cold glass of the table gave you goosebumps.

"We're reviewing the data Joaquin sent us, what do you want us to do?" You snapped, scrolling to the next page of mind numbingly boring KPIs and MIs. Just your luck to get the management files and nothing juicy.

"Perhaps you could use the projector?" Sam clicked a button on the table and the details on your screen lit up the plain, white wall of the conference room.

Embarrassed heat flared up your spine and you shivered.

"Not very secure though, is it, Captain?" Bucky picked up the remote and switched the projector off, his eyes on the laptop screen.

The plastic of your chair squeaked as he tightened his hold on it, and the door slammed shut behind Sam.

2

You followed your nose from the cool darkness of the operations room to the open living area. Tedious as it was to be stationed in the middle of nowhere for recon, you couldn't fault the accommodation, it was almost like being on holiday, apart from the gruelling shifts staring at monitors every day.

Somewhere further along the corridor the sound of good-natured arguing grew louder, Bucky's voice rising above the others and warning them not to disturb you. There was a brief pause before you heard Sam and Joaquin start laughing and Bucky's heavy sigh.

"Morning," you gave a small sleepy smile to the assembled team. Joaquin smiled back, raising his coffee cup in greeting. Sam grinned and you knew instantly that there was something going on. "What now?" You sighed, sending both men in to fits of laughter.

Bucky handed you a cup of tea and bowl of yogurt and granola, a handful of blueberries and raspberries on top.

"Thanks, I'm starving." You bumped his hip as you wandered past to join your teammates at the kitchen island and earned yourself a rare smile.

"What've you got there?" Sam asked, peering into your bowl.

"Usual," you mumbled, sipping your tea. Perfect.

"Uh huh, the usual." He looked up at Bucky, whose face was slowly turning the same colour as the raspberries.

"Can I have some yoghurt, Bucky?" Joaquin asked, innocently.

"Nope." Bucky said, watching you take the first bite and allowing the corner of his mouth to turn up in a smile when yours did.

"Oh, did we run out?"

"Nope."

Bucky put the almost full pot back into the fridge, fixed his coffee and sat down too, shuffling his stool a little closer to you. His hair was still a little damp and you could smell the familiar scent of his shampoo, his bare arm bumping against yours as he took a sip of coffee.

Sam and Joaquin emptied out the last of their coffees into the sink and slunk away, whispering and laughing conspiratorially about "special treatment for girlfriends."

Bucky was, as usual, ignoring them and flipping through a week old newspaper and sipping his coffee. He caught you watching and gave you a mock glare, nothing like the hard stare he'd given Sam and Joaquín earlier.

Then he turned the pages slightly so you could see and you let your head rest on his shoulder, still sipping your tea.

3

"I'm sorry, okay, please stop giving me the cold shoulder." Sam followed after you as you picked your way back to the jet, trying to catch up so you could walk together.

"Absolutely not, I want to be angry for at least two more hours." You grouched, squeezing water from your tactical gear.

"C'mon, it's a little funny," Joaquin laughed, taking up space on your other side.

"Fuck off, Torres, if you had fish swimming in your tac suit you'd be mad too. "

Bucky met you at the cargo door, towel in hand and glaring at your team mates.

"Hell happened to you lot? And why are there fish in your suit?" He scanned you all quickly for serious damage, but it was just your ego that was bruised really.

"Someone, told me it was totally safe to cross this rickety fucking bridge back there," you scowled again.

It really wasn't Sam's fault, it looked perfectly safe or you wouldn't have started to cross, but it was clearly rigged to fall and that's exactly what you'd done, straight into the stagnant water below.

In their gear Sam and Joaquin had been fine. You, on the other hand, had been soaked from head to toe.

"Let's get you in something clean and dry," Bucky gently ushered you into the cool darkness of the jet, soothing your embarrassment with his own stories and wiping mud from the back of your neck as if it was an everyday occurrence.

"I don't think there's anything left in my locker after we got caught in that storm a few weeks back." Embarrassment made your skin itchy and your blood cold. You had spare underwear, maybe, at best.

"Don't worry," Bucky put his back to the door of the small bathroom while you stripped off your dirty clothes inside, "I've got something."

When you reappeared fifteen minutes later, cleaner, dryer, it was in a pair of Bucky's spare sweat pants and the black t-shirt he'd been wearing.

Joaquin raised his eyes but made the decision not to comment and incur your wrath any further.

Sam, on the other hand, chose to tease Bucky instead, their arguing bouncing around the jet while you tried to get comfy on the thin flight seats.

"Got your territory all marked then, Barnes?" He laughed, eyes darting between the two of you.

"Don't know what you're on about, Wilson." Bucky snapped back.

"She's in your clothes, couldn't find any spares? Nothing of mine of Joaquin's back there? You're getting more possessive." Sam shot you a look, "you need to tell him to fuck off."

"I'm good, Sam, thanks for your concern."

"Ahh so you are —"

"We're not dating!" You shouted in unison.

Which only made Sam and Joaquín laugh harder.

It was okay though, you were safe again now and, snuggling deeper into the body warmth of Bucky's t-shirt and definitely a lot less angry than you had been, you really felt safe too. How could you feel any other kind of way, when you could smell his body wash, when he had dried your face so carefully and helped you into your clean clothes.

He looked over at you, eyes still checking for injuries.

"You okay over there? Warm enough?" You nodded and he nodded back, smiling.

4

Joaquin woke with a jolt when the plane hit turbulence, there was a crick in his neck and a sore muscle in his back screaming for a soft bed and his favourite pillow. But no such luck, just an army evac in the dead of night.

Beside him Sam had spread out a blanket and his jacket on the floor, using his rucksack as a pillow and snoring soundly. He could always sleep anywhere, you all could, especially after the day you'd had.

Bucky had taken up a spot sat on the floor like Sam, but with his back to the thin benches, his pack holding up his head. In the gloom he could see Bucky's left arm rigidly holding his body up, elbow locked, because on the right you were leaning into him. His arm was around your shoulders and you'd curled your body into his, pressing into his side, face tucked into his neck and hand under his shirt.

The plane rattled again and Bucky blinked one eye open, his body still as he scanned around quickly before locking eyes with Joaquin.

"You two comfy?" Joaquin whispered and Bucky scowled back. He'd expected Bucky to push you away, but instead he tugged you closer.

Joaquin made a tiny heart shape with his fingers and then mimed kissing.

Bucky flicked up his middle finger and then closed his eyes.

5

"So, Playboy, got any plans tonight," Sam asked, scuffing Joaquin on the back of the head while you pulled your bag out of the gym lockers.

It'd been a long day and you couldn't wait to order a ridiculous amount of food, put your pyjamas on and forget the world existed.

"You know me, Sam. Keepin' my options open." The younger man grinned back.

"Lotta fingers in a lotta pies, have you Torres?" You snickered.

Bucky shut his locker with a slam. "Don't be crude," he grouched, but you saw the way he smiled when he rolled his eyes.

"Something like that," Joaquin shrugged.

"What about you man, hot date?" Joaquin asked,

"Nah," Sam turned away and Joaquin finished towelling his wet hair and started digging his clothes from his bag before wandering off for some privacy.

You slid your trainers back on, tucking your boots in your locker and wondering why they were both suddenly so interested in each other's dating life.

"Not even Leila," you needled, breaking the silence and poking him in the side.

"What's it got to do with you anyway? You seeing anyone tonight?"

"Nope, just me and some Chinese takeout tonight, maybe a little flirt with Netflix," Sam gave you a slightly sad look, but what did you care, it wasn't the only Friday night that would ever happen and you were exhausted.

"I was going to get noodles, do you want to come back to mine, we can split an order?" Bucky asked, fishing his keys from his gym bag and nodding his head towards the door.

"Ohh yes as long as we can get dumplings."

"Obviously we're getting dumplings."

"And maybe fried rice?"

"Rice and noodles?"

"You get one, I'll get the other, we'll split it."

"Fine."

"Shall I follow you —"

"Leave your car by the hanger, I'll drive you back in tomorrow."

"Perfect, let's grab a bottle of wine from the store on the way back."

Bucky groaned, holding the door open for you, "how many times have I said, the only acceptable drink with Chinese takeout is Tsingtao."

The door shut as Joaquin rounded the lockers again, a confused look on his face."Do they know it's Valentines Day?"

Sam laughed, "I don't think so but I can't wait to see their faces tomorrow when they figure it out."

+1

"I've got him, Bucky, you watch the trucks?" You put your sight back to your eye, shuffling your shoulders, settling lower into the ground, you breathed deeply as you prepared to take the shot.

"You'll give away your position, you're too close, fall back." Bucky's voice was surprisingly frantic in your ear.

"Quiet, please. I can do this."

"Leave her, Buck, she's got this."

"Cap's right, gotta have a little faith."

"It's too risky —"

You turned your comm off. You'd been watching this gang for weeks hoping to catch them in the act and you had the perfect chance.

Sam and Joaquin had been leading your infiltration of their den and everything had been going swimmingly — until their leader had walked out and thrown everything into chaos.

You caught the kickback from your rifle with practised ease, your aim perfect, the apparent leader of the group crumpled to the ground, bleeding from his now shattered kneecap. Nothing fatal, you wanted to see him on the stand as did the rest of the team.

You touched your ear piece again ready to gloat about your excellent hit but Bucky's panicked voice found you instead.

"Run, I'm coming but you've gotta run, go —go! Why aren't you going!"

You turned, surrounded by three armed guards, and did the only thing you could do. Fight back.

This wasn't the best time for close quarters combat, but you needed time to reach your handgun or your dagger or something.

Dodging around you gained enough time to slip a knife from your thigh holster.

"I've got it, Buck. Go to Sam."

"No you fucking haven't."

Your arm moved, swiping at your first assailant and leaving a splatter of blood behind. Still low you lurched for the second man's legs, jabbing upwards as he bent down to you. The blade pierced the top of his thigh and blood gushed out as you twisted your wrist and tugged.

"Don't kill anyone." Sam admonished.

But you were too focused to care. The third guard was huge, broad and carrying a knife to match. But it was the gun pointed at your temple that had your heart pounding.

"Put the gun down little lady, we don't want any more messes for you to clean up." The man leered forward, pressing the hot muzzle of the gun into your skin.

"Fuck off." You spat back.

He bent closer, sliding his dagger back into its holster, giving him a free hand to pinch your cheeks. "Such a dirty mouth, what will I do with you."

"She said, fuck off."

The man looked blank, turning his head to find Bucky towering over him gun pressed to his back.

"You okay?" He asked, glancing at you quickly.

"Fine."

"You're a lucky bastard today." Bucky pulled the trigger and you closed your eyes against the spray.

The man shouted, clutching at his shoulder where blood was pouring between his fingers, the wound wider at the front.

"How's that lucky, Bucky?" You chastised, brushing leaves and dirt from your tactical suit and grabbing your rifle.

"If you were hurt, I'd have shot him in the head." He answered, simply, and you felt yourself go hot all over at the thought of what he'd do for you.

Sam and Joaquin landed behind you and rushed forwards.

"We heard more shots, is everyone okay? — What the hell guys I said minimal damage." Sam groaned.

"Would've been easier if someone—" Bucky looked at you, "had left their comms on and run when I'd said."

You rolled your eyes, "I was fine, look." All three patrol guards lay bleeding on the ground.

"That guy had a gun to your head, you were not fine."

"I had him on the ropes." You smiled, but it wavered, you had been scared and your heart had been racing seeing Bucky sneak up on him. "Plus, I've got my knight in shining armour to shoot people for me." You grinned up at Bucky, blood painted on your uniforms and across your cheeks.

"Good thing too." Bucky threaded his fingers through your chest holster and tugged you forwards, pressing a deep kiss to your lips. You hummed happily and leant into him before he set you back down

"If you're done, Sam, can we go back to the jet? I've got bad guy blood all over me, yuck." You made a face and wiped your cheek with the back of your hand before strolling off with Bucky, rifles over your shoulders.

"Did they just—" Joaquin looked over at Sam.

"Yeah —"

"How long?"

"No idea."

As you rounded the corner Bucky took your hand again, tugging you closer and pressing a kiss to your head where the imprint of the gun still lingered.

"Does this finally mean I'm your boyfriend?"

"Because you shot someone for me?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, sure." You smiled, resting your cheek on his shoulder.

Hideout

Wife reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: your husband and a bunch of strangers show up at your house in the middle of the night.

Warnings: John walker, swearing

A/n: The car they have is a mini van instead of the van they had in the movie, so with actual seats and that stuff - so minor change, that's all.

^the car seating plan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Where are we going?" Ava asks, being the third person in the last ten minutes to ask Bucky this. "We'll be there shortly" He grounds out, the same response he's given the last two times.

John is about to say something but is quickly stopped by the glare wielded his way from Yelena. From the past three days of knowing him, she's gotten used to knowing that whenever he opens his mouth, something stupid comes out. Every. Time. And every time, it looks like Bucky is that much closer to pummeling him.

Another fifteen minutes later and Bucky pulls the van into a dirt road leading away from any civilization. Ava and Yelena look out the rear window as the main road is getting further and further away.

The two women glance at each other in concern of where they're heading and how Bucky isn't telling them anything about it. "This seems more like a kidnapping than staying under the radar" Ava finally says when Bucky continues driving deeper into the forest.

"I'm sure the winter soldier knows where we're going and what he's doing. We're fine." Alexie says with a hefty laugh as he's watching from the window beside him.

Bucky meanwhile lets out an aggravated sigh to himself, but he doesn't say anything since in just mere minutes, they'll arrive at the location. The location of which feels like he hasn't been to in way too long for his liking.

And that location is a cabin. A cabin that Tony had set up for his wife during the blip so she wouldn't have to put on any kind of act by being around others all the time. That woman just so happened yo be you, Y/n Barnes.

You're an ex. shield agent that helped Steve with finding Bucky after the events of Pierce and Hydra still being active, as well as the whole project insight fail. Bucky and you caught feelings for each other after some time of finding him again and through the events of the team splitting up and fighting against Thanos, both times. After the second time and all the tragedy, you guys decided to get married. Not that it didn't come with hardships, like the whole therapy thing and having to forgive himself and make amends, and the flagsmashers. But all in all, you love each other.

Which is how you find your eyebrows furrowing as you hear a rusty sound of a car driving along the path towards the cabin. That wasn't normal. Your husband always comes home on his bike, only a car a few times, but those times he alerted you. This time though, you got no communication from him that says not to worry.

So, you immediately turn the light off in the living room and grab your gun from the holster on your thigh. Yes, you may be alone out here, but it doesn't mean danger can't find you. Plus, this is what you were trained for.

You silently move through the pitch black house, the only light coming from the headlights of the car illuminating the halls from through the windows. Sticking to the shadows, you make your way outside through a hidden door at the side of the house.

The gun with your finger on the trigger is held firmly down to your right side as you trek silently to the corner to get a glimpse at who's in the car.

"What is this place?" Yelena asks when Bucky turns off the ignition and pulls the keys out. Instead of answering, Bucky just gets out of the car and puts his hands up after closing the door.

"I know you're there. It's me." He calls out to, appearance wise, no one. This makes everyone still in the van look at each other with confused gazes before unbuckling their seatbelts and getting out of the mini van as well. Except for Yelena right away, she stays to wake Bob up. He had nodded off an hour ago in the drive, his head rested against the small window to his left.

You come out of your hiding spot behind the corner of the house with your gun held in front of you, your legs spread in a fighting stance. That is until it's confirmed that it's in fact your husband and no trick.

Paying no mind to the other people coming out of the car, you holster your gun and go over to him. Bucky quickly wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him. He rests his head on your shoulder as he breathes in the light scent of your shampoo that's still lingering from the shower you took this morning.

As Yelena and Bob emerge from the beat up mini van, you and bucky pull apart from one another to face the group of them who are now acting as though they weren't just watching what happened.

You scan over everyone and the last person, your face twists in something someone can only call as disgust. John Walker. "Hey, Y/n, long time no see?" The man at least has the decency to be weary and nervous, scratching the back of his neck. "Could be longer" You say sharply before taking your eyes off him, and just stare at the group as a whole instead.

"Wait, who is this?" Yelena is the one to speak up. "This is Y/n. My wife." Bucky smiles softly, the most genuine look on his face they've seen on him as he looks at you.

"You have a wife?" Several versions of this questions rise from the group, but get off from a glare he sends their way.

"Hey. Nice to meet you guys, I guess" You look back up at your husband before to them again. "Who are you exactly and why do you look like you just went ten rounds with a tornado?" You ask with a raised eyebrow as you take in how disheveled they all look.

"It's best we explain inside." Bucky says. You let out a puff of air before nodding after a moment and taking a key out of your boot. You head to the front door and unlock it, your husband by your side as the rest of them follow inside.

You turn the lights on as Bucky closes and locks the door and enacts the security system that runs through the house and property. "This way" You say and lead them to the living room. As they take a seat, all basically bursting with confusion still, you go over to your husband.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me you were coming, Buck!?" You exclaim in a hushed whisper. "I didn't have any way of communicating you. And I was a little pre-occupied" He glances at the people in the next room over. "I was worried about you" you finally say. "I didn't know what was happening. All I knew was how you bailed on your congressman meetings and had apparently gone rogue."

"I know, and I'm so sorry, darling. But I promise, I'm alright, and we'll tell you everything that happened" Bucky says and presses a kiss to your lips. You melt into it for a second before remembering about the occupants in the next room over.

"Come on, mind as well get this over with." He says quietly into your ear and wraps your hand in his. He leads you to the living room and to in front of the fireplace to face everyone.

"Alright, this is Alexie, Ava, Yelena, and Bob." Bucky introduces them to you. "And him as well," he quickly nods over to John, not wanting to draw too much of your attention to the man that you loath. And boy, does Bucky understand, but nows not the time.

Yelena does a little awkward wave. "Alright. Would someone like to inform me what the hell exactly happened?" You cross your arms and lean against the fireplace mantle.

They all glance at each other before Yelena sighs and sits up straighter, starting to summarize everything that happened to them up to when Bucky met them and blew up Alexie's limo. At that you look at your husband with a raised brow before Yelena continues, the others popping in at times as well.

Once everyone was finished explaining the events leading up to them arriving here, you pinch the bridge of your nose and quietly groan. "Valentina? As in the same woman from three years ago, is behind this whole thing?"

You get multiple nods and 'yeah's from the group. "Wonderful. Well, next time you plan to see her, bring me with. I have a thing or two to say...or do" the ex spy in you is coming out.

"Does he usually fall asleep like that" you're attention is drawn to Bob who is asleep with his head resting on the back couch cushioning. "Uh, he's been through a lot." Ava says.

"Okay, yeah," you sigh, "Well, down the hall are some bedrooms. You guys look like you need to clean up and some sleep yourselves." You point down the hall to your right.

"Thank you" Yelena nods, the rest of them saying thanks as well before standing and going down the hall. Though John goes over to lift Bob. "Don't bother, he can stay in the couch, he seems peaceful" you tell him, trying to fight off the growl even though technically the man was doing something sweet (ish).

He relents and nods, not wanting to get into a fight with you at this time, knowing he won't win. You go over to the younger man and have him lay down more comfortably on the couch with a pillow, as well as draping one of the throw blankets over him.

"Though if you break anything, I will personally come after you" you call down the hallway before going upstairs to your bedroom with Bucky.

"You're very authoritative. It's good, they actually listened to you" he says once you guys get to your shared room.

"That's cause I'm such an amazing person" you smirk. But a moment later, you smack your husband upside the head. "What was that for?" He asks, surprised at the action, not like it hurt that much anyways.

"For worrying me. And for the stupid shit you did" you say before kissing him softly.

Rewrite Our Tale

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

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

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

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

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

There were other flowers he had planted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A crack.

A shatter.

A thump.

Footsteps receding away.

A wail.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The journey to earth would be painful.

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

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

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

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

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

Advancing through the time, he held his breath.

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

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

What the fuck had Kang done?

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

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

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

He needed to go back to see Kang.

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

Protect her better.

Cherish her better.

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

Selfishness ebbs at his selflessness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks to her flowers as he ascends the throne.

“Again?!” – Part 1

Tony Stark x Civilian!Reader

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

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

w.c 1.8k

You’re gonna be late.

Not fashionably, not charmingly. Actually late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The drink goes flying.

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

You freeze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyebrows tick upward. The grin softens.

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

You frown. “You are… very calm.”

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

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

“Mm. How’s that going?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe I’ll save it for next time.”

“There will not be a next time.”

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

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

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

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

It stops.

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

It’s him.

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

You freeze.

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

But he speaks first.

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

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

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

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

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

You settle on something closer to cautious politeness.

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

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

You nod. “Nice to meet you.”

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

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

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

Tony.

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

You walk faster.

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

You try again.

Tony suit glasses goatee.

You scroll. Nothing.

You bite your lip.

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

Tony New York.

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

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

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

You scroll. Scroll again. Then stop.

There’s a picture.

It’s him.

It’s him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wonder if he's told anyone yet.

And across town—

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

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

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

“Unthinkable,” the AI deadpans.

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

“She seemed… distressed.”

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

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

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

“What would you like me to do?”

Tony taps his temple. “Find her.”

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

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

“You’re really doing this?”

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

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

And he wants more of that.

To Be Continued…?