ijuststareatstuffhereok89

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Not to be a conspiracy theorist but there's one way...

I'm gonna want words with whoever was tasked with updating the Night Manager IMDB pages because that release date had me scratching my damn head for a solid 5 minutes--

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

I'm honored you chose to give my stuff a try, and that it's living up to your expectations! :D I'm excited to have you as a reader!

One: “Thanks, I Hate You”

You and your arrogant PR client are bitter rivals, and there’s no length Loki won’t go to just to watch you squirm. Just when you think you’re going to get a much-needed break from the Great Redeemed Prince’s ego, you’re tapped to escort him to, of all things, a peace summit in Australia. 

CONTENT WARNING: Loki's an asshole

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

MASTERLIST

“Mr. Odinson, tell me, how does it feel to be reformed for eighteen months now?”

“Mr. Laufeyson, actually, and it feels absolutely incredible, it’s as if my soul is free at last!”

“And you have no more genocidal urges or Asgardian instincts to kill?”

“Never again will I do harm to the people of this planet, who have so kindly agreed to give me a second chance after removing the influence of my--err---the scepter.”

Loki’s shit-eating grin unfolded across his face, but to the untrained eye, he looked every bit the contrite warlord who fell in love with the world he’d once targeted for conquest. He could twitch and tweak every muscle in his face into the optimal layout for ass-kissing, and the only ones who were ever wise were you and the rest of the team. 

“At least he plays the part well,” you said bitterly to Tony, leaning over to mutter in his ear while watching the former ‘God’ play up the press like they were at a rock concert. Some of the reporters looked downright charmed, but you knew better. You were more interested in the snow flurries that were falling outside the window.

Tony shrugged. “Yeah, he’s okay.”

You sneered, rolling your eyes with disbelief. “Until the flash bulbs stop. Then he becomes a baboon’s taint.” 

Stark muffled a snort of laughter with his fist. “Always one for eloquence. That’s why I hired you.”

“I’m also the only one around willing to wrangle that,” you paused, pointing at Loki as he folded his hands into a prayer pose, expressing gratitude for the praise he was receiving, “for your pittance of an asking price.” 

“I pay you well,” Tony shot back in defense. “Loki knows how to keep up appearances--”

“--he took off his pants in the lunchroom yesterday to annoy me--” 

“--most of the time.” 

You folded your arms across your chest, glancing at the clock on the wall behind Loki as things in the press room wrapped up. In his very basic outfit: a dress shirt and tie, black slacks, and a tight, professional ponytail, he looked dashing enough. You’d known the truth about him for the eighteen months since you were hired to be his PR manager: Loki had all of the behavioral maturity of an eight-year-old high on pixie sticks.  He loved attention, always jutting out his hips when he strutted about the complex, flipping his hair over his shoulder. 

Loki loved to paint himself as the very model of a modern major comeback story. At first, it was for self-preservation. The terms of his parole as set forth by the UN were strict, and the best course of action to keep his freedom was to play by their rules. Over the next year-and-a-half, however, once it was clear that his image was evolving into that of a celebrity, Loki took the idea and ran with it, and he only used your unsavory opinion of his to fuel the fire he lit under your feet every chance he got.

It was almost as if he targeted you with most of his snarks and jests, always calling you every synonym for ‘boring’ he could muster. For a while, you could brush him off, but after the repeated comments, you began to push back…which led you to your current relationship status: tense at best, resentful and irritable more frequently. 

You could not stand him! He never listened to your advice on how to conduct himself in public. One of his favorite pastimes was inviting the worst kinds of people over for sex, and then making you call them afterwards to dump them. “Loki isn’t sure he’s ready to fully commit to one person yet, but last night will always live in his memory…” It was degrading, gross, and such a slimeball move. You always sent each of his poor conquests a fruit basket the size of SoHo. 

The only reason you refused to resign was that you really needed the money. Despite your repeated complaints, Tony was actually paying you very well. You could afford an apartment with a private toilet in Manhattan, anyway. 

“And that’s all we have time for this afternoon, everyone,” Tony leapt onto the stage and gently nudged Loki away from the podium.  “We’re all proud of Loki’s rehabilitation, as well as his decision to live among us and help the Avengers keep this world safe.” 

The applause was thunderous. You bit your lower lip and got another glimpse of the snow squall outside while Loki bowed and mouthed thanks to his supporters. Every second you could successfully divert your attention away from the Asgardian was a victory. Alas, it was temporary. 

As soon as he left the stage, he gave you a smarmy, evil wink. “Better than ever, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hercules couldn’t clean out all the bullshit in your stables, Loki,” you said with an exasperated sigh. 

“Successfully convincing the world of your contrition is an art, you know.”

“So is painting on walls with shit, to some.”

Loki couldn’t help but snicker under his breath, You were the most feisty woman he’d ever met, aside from maybe Natasha Romanoff. “I see we’re fond of the scatalogical comebacks today. Doesn’t that mean your menses are coming on?”

You could have whirled around on your heels and punched him, but your restraint was enough to keep your professional demeanor, at least until you were out of public sight and in one of the private areas. There were still a LOT of people around and your entire job was keeping up appearances for both yourself and your charge. “I have a headache today, Loki, please shut up and let me do my job.” 

“So it is your cycle!” he chortled, putting his hands on his hips. “Do you know what they say helps with menstrual cramps?”

“Don’t!” you warned between gritting teeth, giving Loki a glare of death. “I mean it!”

Loki paused, as if he was actually going to listen. Then he opened his trap, and it came out: “a good hard dicking!” 

There it was. Your line. Loki had crossed it so far that he was about to meet customs on the other side. 

You slapped him across his right cheek hard enough for his head to whip to the side. Of course, he was able to recover from it quickly, only to pout his lips and widen his eyes when several gasps from the reporters still in the press room silenced everything else. Loki’s snarky smile never left his face, especially as he looked back at you with a somewhat more venomous twinge. 

“It’s 2024,” you scowled, “try something less sexist than blaming my period next time, assbag.”

“So violent,” he said lightly. “So attractive. No wonder you have so many dates…oh wait, that’s me!” he said mockingly, putting a hand over his heart and acting surprised. “I have all the dates, and you’re the one who resents that and takes it out on me by hitting me in front of all of my friends!” 

He dropped his sarcastic smile, replacing it with narrow, threatening eyes and a thin frown. “Embarrass me like that again, woman, I dare you.” 

“I only resent that you make me clean your dirty sheets afterwards, asshole,” you answered. “I don’t really care how many strains of herpes you intend to collect from the Greater New York area. You’re a pampered little twat, and I really do deserve more money for babysitting you.”

You started to leave, but you quickly thought better of it and walked back to say one more thing. “And I will gladly smack you in front of these people any day of the week! No one else is going to put you in your place!”

“And what place is that, Madam?” he asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. 

Nearby, a young blonde reporter who was clearly one of Loki’s fans had taken special interest, and was trying to shoot as many desperate glances at him as she could, asking for her turn in his bed with only verbal cues from across a crowded room. 

“I’d say Hell, but you probably have a permanent residence there already.” 

You noticed the blonde was starting to inch closer, and in her stupid, beady little eyes you saw your escape. “I think I see your Skank of the Day coming in for the steal right now.”

Loki turned to look at the blonde reporter, and he looked somewhat unimpressed. “I suppose. The only other creature in here with any sort of beauty is--”

He stopped mid-thought and decided to go back into his debonair facade, waving you away snobbishly and sticking his nose up. “You’re done for the day, I think. Now please leave me to woo this exquisite little doll who approaches…”

You did have some work you needed him for. There was a peace summit in Australia hosted by Amnesty International, and Loki was a keynote speaker, having been spared from the death penalty and turned into the Earth’s darling. He was the world’s most instantly-recognizable proof that anyone could be rehabilitated, which made him a highly desirable motivational speaker. The summit was in three days, and you needed to brief him on the PR person taking over your duties once he crossed the international dateline. 

He could terrorize the Land Down Under for five days all he wanted. You were about to have your first vacation from the miserable fucker since starting your job. This was going to be your Christmas. 

However, you didn’t feel like dragging him away from the little hopeful moving in on him, and instead you decided to begin packing your bag for your long-desired break from Loki. 

“She what?!” you growled in anger, turning away from Stark and Banner to hide that fact that you were almost instantly upset by their news. 

“Mrs. Donner resigned yesterday,” said Bruce Banner, twiddling his thumbs apprehensively, making him look like a human-sized pangolin. “She’s not taking Loki to Australia.”

“WHY NOT? She’s more qualified than I am!” you bullshitted, doing anything to try and convince these two to go after her. You knew what this meant, but you weren’t ready to accept it just yet. You were a fighter, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sacrifice your time off now.

“She’s also a Mormon. I’m surprised she put up with Loki’s harassment as long as she has,” replied Banner. 

“Or maybe she enjoyed it so much she had to jet off to Planet More-Men or whatever heaven is for them,” Stark mumbled. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, brushing the air in front of you as if erasing something off of an invisible chalk board, “what does matter is who we are going to send him with. His parole terms state he cannot cross international boundaries alone.” 

“C”mon, Y/N, you know where this is going!” said Tony with a wink. 

“No,” you said firmly.

“It’ll be summer down there,” said Banner, “It’ll be nicer than here in New York.”

“No!” you repeated. “My vacation!”

Stark rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, that’s why I’m offering you a month’s paid sabbatical after you return.”

“No…I…what?” your fast, angry thoughts slowed on the conveyor belt as you began processing his counteroffer. “I was only scheduled for a week!” 

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I’m quadrupling that right now, I’ll even get it in writing if you want. I can do that. I’m awesome like that.”

A month! A month without Loki poking fun of your ‘menses’ or humiliating you with jests and quips under his breath. A whole month of sleeping in late, dressing like a slob, and not worrying about how you or any client of yours appeared to the public. Tony Stark certainly knew how to play your game. 

“You must be desperate,” you sighed, thinking about it.

“Well, if Loki can’t attend the summit, it’ll look kinda bad,” Bruce added, his low, bashful voice somewhat harder to hear than Tony’s confident tone. 

“I’ll get you VIP passes to any club in the city for the whole month you’re off,” Tony added. “Four of them. And unlimited cocktail service. Live like a movie star for the next month, and all you have to do is babysit our little horndog for five days in Aussieland this week.” 

“Deal,” you acquiesced at last, not missing a beat. “I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” 

All three of you turned your heads toward the intrusive new voice in the room. Loki was leaning against the doorway to the office, arms folded, a shit-eating sneer on his face. You felt your skin go hot at his sudden, unwelcome appearance. 

“I was hoping that my exertions manipulating that old dowager into quitting would bear fruit, and now it seems I’m just time for my little trip with my dearest friend in the Realm!” 

“Easy, Lokes,” said Stark, holding back a laugh. “Don’t push it, ok?”

You bit your lip to keep your temper. It didn’t make any difference if you kept protesting. You’d taken Stark’s carrot, and now you had five days of this jester’s extraterrestrial farts to sniff.

“Oh, I’m sure the next few days will include plenty of pushing about,” said Loki. 

Tony raised an eyebrow and began following Banner as he snuck out of the room. “Be on the roof tomorrow morning. Oh, and uh, the quinjet has got some issues so it can’t go any faster than Mach 1.5 right now. Means it’ll take a little longer to get out there. Hope you two can get comfortable with one another real fast.” 

“You…you set this up,” you hissed, your anger bubbling to the surface now that your employer was out of range. “I ought to ask your father to hang you.”

This only made him laugh. “He would only love the pleasure, I’m sure.”

And I would love to see your corpse swinging by the neck, you thought.  “Why? Why did you do this?” you asked with frustration. “You hate me and I absolutely hate you, Loki, so why force us to be in closer proximity for longer than necessary?”

“Oh, I couldn’t stand the idea of being apart from you, sweet pea! It’s my greatest delight in life to always hover five paces behind you and piss you off. The mere idea of being so far away for so long!” Loki brought a mocking hand to his heart, expressing fake sadness in both his body and face. “My heart would only cry for you.”

“I should just make you go alone and make an ass of yourself,” you suggested. “Maybe some Australian hell-beast will swallow you whole.”

“Oh-ho! By all means,” Loki chuckled, throwing his head back. “Let me loose without supervision in a foreign country as the sole representative of the United States, the Nine Realms, and the Avengers. That will go over well for all of us.”

Your jaw hung open, no witty retorts for him, Unfortunately, he was right. Punking out would in one way or another, only serve to humiliate yourself and Stark.

“Ah, ah…” Loki tucked a finger under your chin, nudging your mouth closed by poking your chin upward, “You’ll catch flies.” 

He left you there, speechless in the middle of the room, only turning back in the doorway to add: “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow, darling!”

Before going to bed that night, curled up in your sad little futon in your one-bedroom loft, you prayed to every god that wasn’t Asgardian that there would be some kind of apocalyptic blizzard that popped up out of nowhere, forcing the takeoff to be delayed. Inclement weather was probably the only acceptable excuse for Loki to be a no-show down in Sydney. WHile the city didn;t necessarily get as much snow as upstate near the lakes, it usually took a few inches to shut the whole place down. There was hope. Perhaps the weatherfolks were keeping it a surprise…

This meant, of course, that the next morning was the first perfectly sunny morning New York had seen in weeks. In a small act of rebellion against the little shit you had to babysit, you chose to take your sweet time getting in. You purposefully dragged your feet down to the subway, your suitcase dragging along like a weight tethered to your wrist. You saw an abnormally-long line outside of a coffee shop and decided to stop in for an Americano. 

By the time you made it to the rooftop of Stark Tower, you were over an hour late, which was not typical for you. The jet was otherwise prepped, the diminutive young pilot tapping his feet impatiently by the nose, Stark and Loki just tossing the last of his belongings in around the side. 

“Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” said Tony. 

Loki dropped what he was doing and shuffled up to you. He gave a mock bow, taking your hand and laying a big wet kiss on the back of it. “My escort, how lovely to finally see your bright face ready for our trip!”

“Die.”

Loki pouted. “Oh, is that any way to greet your business partner? I asked for you to be at my side all week long! Don’t you think I’m owed a little more courtesy?”

“Please die.”

“That’s my girl.” 

Just before you boarded, Tony gave you a wink and one last piece of advice: “Remember, when the going gets tough, lie back and think of England.”

The last thing he saw before the doors shut was your middle finger. 

Once the pilot got the quinjet into the air, he announced that he’d need to take his time in order to appease whatever yet-to-be-diagnosed tech issue the plane had, and prevent something from happening. 

“Ugh, so what’s our ETA, then?” Loki asked impatiently, the saccharine facade dropping the instant he was out of Stark’s view. 

The pilot shrugged. “I can get us there safely in five hours, maybe.”

“FIVE HOURS?” you groaned. “This thing is--”

“--gonna disintegrate if I don’t treat it gently,” he shot back. “Relax! It’s still a hell of a lot faster than if you were flying in a Boeing, okay?”

You and Loki looked at each other with annoyance. You sighed and went to sit as far away from the cockpit as you could, taking a green-jacketed book from your shoulder bag and flipping it open a bit too dramatically. 

Unfortunately, Loki didn’t seem to take the hint, sitting beside you and peeking over your shoulder. 

“You kept us waiting on purpose,” he accused. “You’re a bit of a brat, you know.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Gently shutting the book, you turned to Loki with the most serious expression you could muster without losing your professionalism. 

“Look, Laufeyson, you’re the one who set this up for us. If I had to venture a guess, it’s because you’re bored and needed a new way to make me miserable. But let’s make one thing perfectly clear: I hate you. I can’t stand your smarmy face and how you get off on making me crazy! Every time you open your mouth, it makes me want to drop-kick an orphan! I’d rather have a root canal while on ecstasy every day for the rest of my life than be sitting right here next to you.”

Loki didn’t blink. “...and how does that make you feel?”

“But I’m getting my big payout when this is all over, so for FUCK’S SAKE, let’s make this easy on both of us? You don’t bother me, I won’t bother you. You can find a kangaroo’s pouch to ride around in for all I care.” You went to open your book again, but Loki laid a firm hand over top of it. 

“I’m hurt. Truly.”

You snickered. “Sure.”

“You know what your problem is?” Loki leaned back, crossing his hands casually. “You’re too uptight.”

“Uptight? You call me defending myself against all of your abuse UPTIGHT?” you growled from behind your gritted teeth. 

“Well, it wasn’t abuse at first,” Loki added, “I was only making jokes to say hello!”

“Bullshit,” you said angrily. “The day we met, you called me a servant and asked if I would massage your feet.”

“Well, now it’s just fun for me to watch you lose your temper,” he admitted. “The thought of being alone with you to twist and push every button you’ve got just to see how loudly you’d shout…”

“Stop it, Loki! I’d rather this plane go down right now than be alone with you. Ever!”

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[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

You best bet I'm whipping out all the "poetry" for this one! I may or may not have a list of one-liners to use throughout that I came up with on the fly lol

One: “Thanks, I Hate You”

You and your arrogant PR client are bitter rivals, and there’s no length Loki won’t go to just to watch you squirm. Just when you think you’re going to get a much-needed break from the Great Redeemed Prince’s ego, you’re tapped to escort him to, of all things, a peace summit in Australia. 

CONTENT WARNING: Loki's an asshole

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

MASTERLIST

“Mr. Odinson, tell me, how does it feel to be reformed for eighteen months now?”

“Mr. Laufeyson, actually, and it feels absolutely incredible, it’s as if my soul is free at last!”

“And you have no more genocidal urges or Asgardian instincts to kill?”

“Never again will I do harm to the people of this planet, who have so kindly agreed to give me a second chance after removing the influence of my--err---the scepter.”

Loki’s shit-eating grin unfolded across his face, but to the untrained eye, he looked every bit the contrite warlord who fell in love with the world he’d once targeted for conquest. He could twitch and tweak every muscle in his face into the optimal layout for ass-kissing, and the only ones who were ever wise were you and the rest of the team. 

“At least he plays the part well,” you said bitterly to Tony, leaning over to mutter in his ear while watching the former ‘God’ play up the press like they were at a rock concert. Some of the reporters looked downright charmed, but you knew better. You were more interested in the snow flurries that were falling outside the window.

Tony shrugged. “Yeah, he’s okay.”

You sneered, rolling your eyes with disbelief. “Until the flash bulbs stop. Then he becomes a baboon’s taint.” 

Stark muffled a snort of laughter with his fist. “Always one for eloquence. That’s why I hired you.”

“I’m also the only one around willing to wrangle that,” you paused, pointing at Loki as he folded his hands into a prayer pose, expressing gratitude for the praise he was receiving, “for your pittance of an asking price.” 

“I pay you well,” Tony shot back in defense. “Loki knows how to keep up appearances--”

“--he took off his pants in the lunchroom yesterday to annoy me--” 

“--most of the time.” 

You folded your arms across your chest, glancing at the clock on the wall behind Loki as things in the press room wrapped up. In his very basic outfit: a dress shirt and tie, black slacks, and a tight, professional ponytail, he looked dashing enough. You’d known the truth about him for the eighteen months since you were hired to be his PR manager: Loki had all of the behavioral maturity of an eight-year-old high on pixie sticks.  He loved attention, always jutting out his hips when he strutted about the complex, flipping his hair over his shoulder. 

Loki loved to paint himself as the very model of a modern major comeback story. At first, it was for self-preservation. The terms of his parole as set forth by the UN were strict, and the best course of action to keep his freedom was to play by their rules. Over the next year-and-a-half, however, once it was clear that his image was evolving into that of a celebrity, Loki took the idea and ran with it, and he only used your unsavory opinion of his to fuel the fire he lit under your feet every chance he got.

It was almost as if he targeted you with most of his snarks and jests, always calling you every synonym for ‘boring’ he could muster. For a while, you could brush him off, but after the repeated comments, you began to push back…which led you to your current relationship status: tense at best, resentful and irritable more frequently. 

You could not stand him! He never listened to your advice on how to conduct himself in public. One of his favorite pastimes was inviting the worst kinds of people over for sex, and then making you call them afterwards to dump them. “Loki isn’t sure he’s ready to fully commit to one person yet, but last night will always live in his memory…” It was degrading, gross, and such a slimeball move. You always sent each of his poor conquests a fruit basket the size of SoHo. 

The only reason you refused to resign was that you really needed the money. Despite your repeated complaints, Tony was actually paying you very well. You could afford an apartment with a private toilet in Manhattan, anyway. 

“And that’s all we have time for this afternoon, everyone,” Tony leapt onto the stage and gently nudged Loki away from the podium.  “We’re all proud of Loki’s rehabilitation, as well as his decision to live among us and help the Avengers keep this world safe.” 

The applause was thunderous. You bit your lower lip and got another glimpse of the snow squall outside while Loki bowed and mouthed thanks to his supporters. Every second you could successfully divert your attention away from the Asgardian was a victory. Alas, it was temporary. 

As soon as he left the stage, he gave you a smarmy, evil wink. “Better than ever, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hercules couldn’t clean out all the bullshit in your stables, Loki,” you said with an exasperated sigh. 

“Successfully convincing the world of your contrition is an art, you know.”

“So is painting on walls with shit, to some.”

Loki couldn’t help but snicker under his breath, You were the most feisty woman he’d ever met, aside from maybe Natasha Romanoff. “I see we’re fond of the scatalogical comebacks today. Doesn’t that mean your menses are coming on?”

You could have whirled around on your heels and punched him, but your restraint was enough to keep your professional demeanor, at least until you were out of public sight and in one of the private areas. There were still a LOT of people around and your entire job was keeping up appearances for both yourself and your charge. “I have a headache today, Loki, please shut up and let me do my job.” 

“So it is your cycle!” he chortled, putting his hands on his hips. “Do you know what they say helps with menstrual cramps?”

“Don’t!” you warned between gritting teeth, giving Loki a glare of death. “I mean it!”

Loki paused, as if he was actually going to listen. Then he opened his trap, and it came out: “a good hard dicking!” 

There it was. Your line. Loki had crossed it so far that he was about to meet customs on the other side. 

You slapped him across his right cheek hard enough for his head to whip to the side. Of course, he was able to recover from it quickly, only to pout his lips and widen his eyes when several gasps from the reporters still in the press room silenced everything else. Loki’s snarky smile never left his face, especially as he looked back at you with a somewhat more venomous twinge. 

“It’s 2024,” you scowled, “try something less sexist than blaming my period next time, assbag.”

“So violent,” he said lightly. “So attractive. No wonder you have so many dates…oh wait, that’s me!” he said mockingly, putting a hand over his heart and acting surprised. “I have all the dates, and you’re the one who resents that and takes it out on me by hitting me in front of all of my friends!” 

He dropped his sarcastic smile, replacing it with narrow, threatening eyes and a thin frown. “Embarrass me like that again, woman, I dare you.” 

“I only resent that you make me clean your dirty sheets afterwards, asshole,” you answered. “I don’t really care how many strains of herpes you intend to collect from the Greater New York area. You’re a pampered little twat, and I really do deserve more money for babysitting you.”

You started to leave, but you quickly thought better of it and walked back to say one more thing. “And I will gladly smack you in front of these people any day of the week! No one else is going to put you in your place!”

“And what place is that, Madam?” he asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. 

Nearby, a young blonde reporter who was clearly one of Loki’s fans had taken special interest, and was trying to shoot as many desperate glances at him as she could, asking for her turn in his bed with only verbal cues from across a crowded room. 

“I’d say Hell, but you probably have a permanent residence there already.” 

You noticed the blonde was starting to inch closer, and in her stupid, beady little eyes you saw your escape. “I think I see your Skank of the Day coming in for the steal right now.”

Loki turned to look at the blonde reporter, and he looked somewhat unimpressed. “I suppose. The only other creature in here with any sort of beauty is--”

He stopped mid-thought and decided to go back into his debonair facade, waving you away snobbishly and sticking his nose up. “You’re done for the day, I think. Now please leave me to woo this exquisite little doll who approaches…”

You did have some work you needed him for. There was a peace summit in Australia hosted by Amnesty International, and Loki was a keynote speaker, having been spared from the death penalty and turned into the Earth’s darling. He was the world’s most instantly-recognizable proof that anyone could be rehabilitated, which made him a highly desirable motivational speaker. The summit was in three days, and you needed to brief him on the PR person taking over your duties once he crossed the international dateline. 

He could terrorize the Land Down Under for five days all he wanted. You were about to have your first vacation from the miserable fucker since starting your job. This was going to be your Christmas. 

However, you didn’t feel like dragging him away from the little hopeful moving in on him, and instead you decided to begin packing your bag for your long-desired break from Loki. 

“She what?!” you growled in anger, turning away from Stark and Banner to hide that fact that you were almost instantly upset by their news. 

“Mrs. Donner resigned yesterday,” said Bruce Banner, twiddling his thumbs apprehensively, making him look like a human-sized pangolin. “She’s not taking Loki to Australia.”

“WHY NOT? She’s more qualified than I am!” you bullshitted, doing anything to try and convince these two to go after her. You knew what this meant, but you weren’t ready to accept it just yet. You were a fighter, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sacrifice your time off now.

“She’s also a Mormon. I’m surprised she put up with Loki’s harassment as long as she has,” replied Banner. 

“Or maybe she enjoyed it so much she had to jet off to Planet More-Men or whatever heaven is for them,” Stark mumbled. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, brushing the air in front of you as if erasing something off of an invisible chalk board, “what does matter is who we are going to send him with. His parole terms state he cannot cross international boundaries alone.” 

“C”mon, Y/N, you know where this is going!” said Tony with a wink. 

“No,” you said firmly.

“It’ll be summer down there,” said Banner, “It’ll be nicer than here in New York.”

“No!” you repeated. “My vacation!”

Stark rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, that’s why I’m offering you a month’s paid sabbatical after you return.”

“No…I…what?” your fast, angry thoughts slowed on the conveyor belt as you began processing his counteroffer. “I was only scheduled for a week!” 

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I’m quadrupling that right now, I’ll even get it in writing if you want. I can do that. I’m awesome like that.”

A month! A month without Loki poking fun of your ‘menses’ or humiliating you with jests and quips under his breath. A whole month of sleeping in late, dressing like a slob, and not worrying about how you or any client of yours appeared to the public. Tony Stark certainly knew how to play your game. 

“You must be desperate,” you sighed, thinking about it.

“Well, if Loki can’t attend the summit, it’ll look kinda bad,” Bruce added, his low, bashful voice somewhat harder to hear than Tony’s confident tone. 

“I’ll get you VIP passes to any club in the city for the whole month you’re off,” Tony added. “Four of them. And unlimited cocktail service. Live like a movie star for the next month, and all you have to do is babysit our little horndog for five days in Aussieland this week.” 

“Deal,” you acquiesced at last, not missing a beat. “I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” 

All three of you turned your heads toward the intrusive new voice in the room. Loki was leaning against the doorway to the office, arms folded, a shit-eating sneer on his face. You felt your skin go hot at his sudden, unwelcome appearance. 

“I was hoping that my exertions manipulating that old dowager into quitting would bear fruit, and now it seems I’m just time for my little trip with my dearest friend in the Realm!” 

“Easy, Lokes,” said Stark, holding back a laugh. “Don’t push it, ok?”

You bit your lip to keep your temper. It didn’t make any difference if you kept protesting. You’d taken Stark’s carrot, and now you had five days of this jester’s extraterrestrial farts to sniff.

“Oh, I’m sure the next few days will include plenty of pushing about,” said Loki. 

Tony raised an eyebrow and began following Banner as he snuck out of the room. “Be on the roof tomorrow morning. Oh, and uh, the quinjet has got some issues so it can’t go any faster than Mach 1.5 right now. Means it’ll take a little longer to get out there. Hope you two can get comfortable with one another real fast.” 

“You…you set this up,” you hissed, your anger bubbling to the surface now that your employer was out of range. “I ought to ask your father to hang you.”

This only made him laugh. “He would only love the pleasure, I’m sure.”

And I would love to see your corpse swinging by the neck, you thought.  “Why? Why did you do this?” you asked with frustration. “You hate me and I absolutely hate you, Loki, so why force us to be in closer proximity for longer than necessary?”

“Oh, I couldn’t stand the idea of being apart from you, sweet pea! It’s my greatest delight in life to always hover five paces behind you and piss you off. The mere idea of being so far away for so long!” Loki brought a mocking hand to his heart, expressing fake sadness in both his body and face. “My heart would only cry for you.”

“I should just make you go alone and make an ass of yourself,” you suggested. “Maybe some Australian hell-beast will swallow you whole.”

“Oh-ho! By all means,” Loki chuckled, throwing his head back. “Let me loose without supervision in a foreign country as the sole representative of the United States, the Nine Realms, and the Avengers. That will go over well for all of us.”

Your jaw hung open, no witty retorts for him, Unfortunately, he was right. Punking out would in one way or another, only serve to humiliate yourself and Stark.

“Ah, ah…” Loki tucked a finger under your chin, nudging your mouth closed by poking your chin upward, “You’ll catch flies.” 

He left you there, speechless in the middle of the room, only turning back in the doorway to add: “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow, darling!”

Before going to bed that night, curled up in your sad little futon in your one-bedroom loft, you prayed to every god that wasn’t Asgardian that there would be some kind of apocalyptic blizzard that popped up out of nowhere, forcing the takeoff to be delayed. Inclement weather was probably the only acceptable excuse for Loki to be a no-show down in Sydney. WHile the city didn;t necessarily get as much snow as upstate near the lakes, it usually took a few inches to shut the whole place down. There was hope. Perhaps the weatherfolks were keeping it a surprise…

This meant, of course, that the next morning was the first perfectly sunny morning New York had seen in weeks. In a small act of rebellion against the little shit you had to babysit, you chose to take your sweet time getting in. You purposefully dragged your feet down to the subway, your suitcase dragging along like a weight tethered to your wrist. You saw an abnormally-long line outside of a coffee shop and decided to stop in for an Americano. 

By the time you made it to the rooftop of Stark Tower, you were over an hour late, which was not typical for you. The jet was otherwise prepped, the diminutive young pilot tapping his feet impatiently by the nose, Stark and Loki just tossing the last of his belongings in around the side. 

“Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” said Tony. 

Loki dropped what he was doing and shuffled up to you. He gave a mock bow, taking your hand and laying a big wet kiss on the back of it. “My escort, how lovely to finally see your bright face ready for our trip!”

“Die.”

Loki pouted. “Oh, is that any way to greet your business partner? I asked for you to be at my side all week long! Don’t you think I’m owed a little more courtesy?”

“Please die.”

“That’s my girl.” 

Just before you boarded, Tony gave you a wink and one last piece of advice: “Remember, when the going gets tough, lie back and think of England.”

The last thing he saw before the doors shut was your middle finger. 

Once the pilot got the quinjet into the air, he announced that he’d need to take his time in order to appease whatever yet-to-be-diagnosed tech issue the plane had, and prevent something from happening. 

“Ugh, so what’s our ETA, then?” Loki asked impatiently, the saccharine facade dropping the instant he was out of Stark’s view. 

The pilot shrugged. “I can get us there safely in five hours, maybe.”

“FIVE HOURS?” you groaned. “This thing is--”

“--gonna disintegrate if I don’t treat it gently,” he shot back. “Relax! It’s still a hell of a lot faster than if you were flying in a Boeing, okay?”

You and Loki looked at each other with annoyance. You sighed and went to sit as far away from the cockpit as you could, taking a green-jacketed book from your shoulder bag and flipping it open a bit too dramatically. 

Unfortunately, Loki didn’t seem to take the hint, sitting beside you and peeking over your shoulder. 

“You kept us waiting on purpose,” he accused. “You’re a bit of a brat, you know.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Gently shutting the book, you turned to Loki with the most serious expression you could muster without losing your professionalism. 

“Look, Laufeyson, you’re the one who set this up for us. If I had to venture a guess, it’s because you’re bored and needed a new way to make me miserable. But let’s make one thing perfectly clear: I hate you. I can’t stand your smarmy face and how you get off on making me crazy! Every time you open your mouth, it makes me want to drop-kick an orphan! I’d rather have a root canal while on ecstasy every day for the rest of my life than be sitting right here next to you.”

Loki didn’t blink. “...and how does that make you feel?”

“But I’m getting my big payout when this is all over, so for FUCK’S SAKE, let’s make this easy on both of us? You don’t bother me, I won’t bother you. You can find a kangaroo’s pouch to ride around in for all I care.” You went to open your book again, but Loki laid a firm hand over top of it. 

“I’m hurt. Truly.”

You snickered. “Sure.”

“You know what your problem is?” Loki leaned back, crossing his hands casually. “You’re too uptight.”

“Uptight? You call me defending myself against all of your abuse UPTIGHT?” you growled from behind your gritted teeth. 

“Well, it wasn’t abuse at first,” Loki added, “I was only making jokes to say hello!”

“Bullshit,” you said angrily. “The day we met, you called me a servant and asked if I would massage your feet.”

“Well, now it’s just fun for me to watch you lose your temper,” he admitted. “The thought of being alone with you to twist and push every button you’ve got just to see how loudly you’d shout…”

“Stop it, Loki! I’d rather this plane go down right now than be alone with you. Ever!”

Tags: @anukulee @jiyascepter @wolfsmom1 @cakesandtom @holdmytesseract @simplyholl @lokisgoodgirl @mjsthrillernp @meowmeow-motherfucker @foxherder @letstalkaboutshtufff @ladymischief11 @libby-bibby @javagirl328 @crimson25 @lcolumbia1988 @gruftiela @mochie85 @huntress-artemiss @loz-3 @kikster606 @muddyorbsblr @sheris532 @lokischambermaid @kneelingformyloki @soulpiercing @goddessgirl43 @canigetanap @theoneandonlythorn @forleiasake @eleniblue @knight-of-the-doctor @goblingirlsarah @clusterfuck-meup @mischief2sarawr

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

One: “Thanks, I Hate You”

You and your arrogant PR client are bitter rivals, and there’s no length Loki won’t go to just to watch you squirm. Just when you think you’re going to get a much-needed break from the Great Redeemed Prince’s ego, you’re tapped to escort him to, of all things, a peace summit in Australia. 

CONTENT WARNING: Loki's an asshole

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

MASTERLIST

“Mr. Odinson, tell me, how does it feel to be reformed for eighteen months now?”

“Mr. Laufeyson, actually, and it feels absolutely incredible, it’s as if my soul is free at last!”

“And you have no more genocidal urges or Asgardian instincts to kill?”

“Never again will I do harm to the people of this planet, who have so kindly agreed to give me a second chance after removing the influence of my--err---the scepter.”

Loki’s shit-eating grin unfolded across his face, but to the untrained eye, he looked every bit the contrite warlord who fell in love with the world he’d once targeted for conquest. He could twitch and tweak every muscle in his face into the optimal layout for ass-kissing, and the only ones who were ever wise were you and the rest of the team. 

“At least he plays the part well,” you said bitterly to Tony, leaning over to mutter in his ear while watching the former ‘God’ play up the press like they were at a rock concert. Some of the reporters looked downright charmed, but you knew better. You were more interested in the snow flurries that were falling outside the window.

Tony shrugged. “Yeah, he’s okay.”

You sneered, rolling your eyes with disbelief. “Until the flash bulbs stop. Then he becomes a baboon’s taint.” 

Stark muffled a snort of laughter with his fist. “Always one for eloquence. That’s why I hired you.”

“I’m also the only one around willing to wrangle that,” you paused, pointing at Loki as he folded his hands into a prayer pose, expressing gratitude for the praise he was receiving, “for your pittance of an asking price.” 

“I pay you well,” Tony shot back in defense. “Loki knows how to keep up appearances--”

“--he took off his pants in the lunchroom yesterday to annoy me--” 

“--most of the time.” 

You folded your arms across your chest, glancing at the clock on the wall behind Loki as things in the press room wrapped up. In his very basic outfit: a dress shirt and tie, black slacks, and a tight, professional ponytail, he looked dashing enough. You’d known the truth about him for the eighteen months since you were hired to be his PR manager: Loki had all of the behavioral maturity of an eight-year-old high on pixie sticks.  He loved attention, always jutting out his hips when he strutted about the complex, flipping his hair over his shoulder. 

Loki loved to paint himself as the very model of a modern major comeback story. At first, it was for self-preservation. The terms of his parole as set forth by the UN were strict, and the best course of action to keep his freedom was to play by their rules. Over the next year-and-a-half, however, once it was clear that his image was evolving into that of a celebrity, Loki took the idea and ran with it, and he only used your unsavory opinion of his to fuel the fire he lit under your feet every chance he got.

It was almost as if he targeted you with most of his snarks and jests, always calling you every synonym for ‘boring’ he could muster. For a while, you could brush him off, but after the repeated comments, you began to push back…which led you to your current relationship status: tense at best, resentful and irritable more frequently. 

You could not stand him! He never listened to your advice on how to conduct himself in public. One of his favorite pastimes was inviting the worst kinds of people over for sex, and then making you call them afterwards to dump them. “Loki isn’t sure he’s ready to fully commit to one person yet, but last night will always live in his memory…” It was degrading, gross, and such a slimeball move. You always sent each of his poor conquests a fruit basket the size of SoHo. 

The only reason you refused to resign was that you really needed the money. Despite your repeated complaints, Tony was actually paying you very well. You could afford an apartment with a private toilet in Manhattan, anyway. 

���And that’s all we have time for this afternoon, everyone,” Tony leapt onto the stage and gently nudged Loki away from the podium.  “We’re all proud of Loki’s rehabilitation, as well as his decision to live among us and help the Avengers keep this world safe.” 

The applause was thunderous. You bit your lower lip and got another glimpse of the snow squall outside while Loki bowed and mouthed thanks to his supporters. Every second you could successfully divert your attention away from the Asgardian was a victory. Alas, it was temporary. 

As soon as he left the stage, he gave you a smarmy, evil wink. “Better than ever, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hercules couldn’t clean out all the bullshit in your stables, Loki,” you said with an exasperated sigh. 

“Successfully convincing the world of your contrition is an art, you know.”

“So is painting on walls with shit, to some.”

Loki couldn’t help but snicker under his breath, You were the most feisty woman he’d ever met, aside from maybe Natasha Romanoff. “I see we’re fond of the scatalogical comebacks today. Doesn’t that mean your menses are coming on?”

You could have whirled around on your heels and punched him, but your restraint was enough to keep your professional demeanor, at least until you were out of public sight and in one of the private areas. There were still a LOT of people around and your entire job was keeping up appearances for both yourself and your charge. “I have a headache today, Loki, please shut up and let me do my job.” 

“So it is your cycle!” he chortled, putting his hands on his hips. “Do you know what they say helps with menstrual cramps?”

“Don’t!” you warned between gritting teeth, giving Loki a glare of death. “I mean it!”

Loki paused, as if he was actually going to listen. Then he opened his trap, and it came out: “a good hard dicking!” 

There it was. Your line. Loki had crossed it so far that he was about to meet customs on the other side. 

You slapped him across his right cheek hard enough for his head to whip to the side. Of course, he was able to recover from it quickly, only to pout his lips and widen his eyes when several gasps from the reporters still in the press room silenced everything else. Loki’s snarky smile never left his face, especially as he looked back at you with a somewhat more venomous twinge. 

“It’s 2024,” you scowled, “try something less sexist than blaming my period next time, assbag.”

“So violent,” he said lightly. “So attractive. No wonder you have so many dates…oh wait, that’s me!” he said mockingly, putting a hand over his heart and acting surprised. “I have all the dates, and you’re the one who resents that and takes it out on me by hitting me in front of all of my friends!” 

He dropped his sarcastic smile, replacing it with narrow, threatening eyes and a thin frown. “Embarrass me like that again, woman, I dare you.” 

“I only resent that you make me clean your dirty sheets afterwards, asshole,” you answered. “I don’t really care how many strains of herpes you intend to collect from the Greater New York area. You’re a pampered little twat, and I really do deserve more money for babysitting you.”

You started to leave, but you quickly thought better of it and walked back to say one more thing. “And I will gladly smack you in front of these people any day of the week! No one else is going to put you in your place!”

“And what place is that, Madam?” he asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. 

Nearby, a young blonde reporter who was clearly one of Loki’s fans had taken special interest, and was trying to shoot as many desperate glances at him as she could, asking for her turn in his bed with only verbal cues from across a crowded room. 

“I’d say Hell, but you probably have a permanent residence there already.” 

You noticed the blonde was starting to inch closer, and in her stupid, beady little eyes you saw your escape. “I think I see your Skank of the Day coming in for the steal right now.”

Loki turned to look at the blonde reporter, and he looked somewhat unimpressed. “I suppose. The only other creature in here with any sort of beauty is--”

He stopped mid-thought and decided to go back into his debonair facade, waving you away snobbishly and sticking his nose up. “You’re done for the day, I think. Now please leave me to woo this exquisite little doll who approaches…”

You did have some work you needed him for. There was a peace summit in Australia hosted by Amnesty International, and Loki was a keynote speaker, having been spared from the death penalty and turned into the Earth’s darling. He was the world’s most instantly-recognizable proof that anyone could be rehabilitated, which made him a highly desirable motivational speaker. The summit was in three days, and you needed to brief him on the PR person taking over your duties once he crossed the international dateline. 

He could terrorize the Land Down Under for five days all he wanted. You were about to have your first vacation from the miserable fucker since starting your job. This was going to be your Christmas. 

However, you didn’t feel like dragging him away from the little hopeful moving in on him, and instead you decided to begin packing your bag for your long-desired break from Loki. 

“She what?!” you growled in anger, turning away from Stark and Banner to hide that fact that you were almost instantly upset by their news. 

“Mrs. Donner resigned yesterday,” said Bruce Banner, twiddling his thumbs apprehensively, making him look like a human-sized pangolin. “She’s not taking Loki to Australia.”

“WHY NOT? She’s more qualified than I am!” you bullshitted, doing anything to try and convince these two to go after her. You knew what this meant, but you weren’t ready to accept it just yet. You were a fighter, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sacrifice your time off now.

“She’s also a Mormon. I’m surprised she put up with Loki’s harassment as long as she has,” replied Banner. 

“Or maybe she enjoyed it so much she had to jet off to Planet More-Men or whatever heaven is for them,” Stark mumbled. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, brushing the air in front of you as if erasing something off of an invisible chalk board, “what does matter is who we are going to send him with. His parole terms state he cannot cross international boundaries alone.” 

“C”mon, Y/N, you know where this is going!” said Tony with a wink. 

“No,” you said firmly.

“It’ll be summer down there,” said Banner, “It’ll be nicer than here in New York.”

“No!” you repeated. “My vacation!”

Stark rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, that’s why I’m offering you a month’s paid sabbatical after you return.”

“No…I…what?” your fast, angry thoughts slowed on the conveyor belt as you began processing his counteroffer. “I was only scheduled for a week!” 

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I’m quadrupling that right now, I’ll even get it in writing if you want. I can do that. I’m awesome like that.”

A month! A month without Loki poking fun of your ‘menses’ or humiliating you with jests and quips under his breath. A whole month of sleeping in late, dressing like a slob, and not worrying about how you or any client of yours appeared to the public. Tony Stark certainly knew how to play your game. 

“You must be desperate,” you sighed, thinking about it.

“Well, if Loki can’t attend the summit, it’ll look kinda bad,” Bruce added, his low, bashful voice somewhat harder to hear than Tony’s confident tone. 

“I’ll get you VIP passes to any club in the city for the whole month you’re off,” Tony added. “Four of them. And unlimited cocktail service. Live like a movie star for the next month, and all you have to do is babysit our little horndog for five days in Aussieland this week.” 

“Deal,” you acquiesced at last, not missing a beat. “I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” 

All three of you turned your heads toward the intrusive new voice in the room. Loki was leaning against the doorway to the office, arms folded, a shit-eating sneer on his face. You felt your skin go hot at his sudden, unwelcome appearance. 

“I was hoping that my exertions manipulating that old dowager into quitting would bear fruit, and now it seems I’m just time for my little trip with my dearest friend in the Realm!” 

“Easy, Lokes,” said Stark, holding back a laugh. “Don’t push it, ok?”

You bit your lip to keep your temper. It didn’t make any difference if you kept protesting. You’d taken Stark’s carrot, and now you had five days of this jester’s extraterrestrial farts to sniff.

“Oh, I’m sure the next few days will include plenty of pushing about,” said Loki. 

Tony raised an eyebrow and began following Banner as he snuck out of the room. “Be on the roof tomorrow morning. Oh, and uh, the quinjet has got some issues so it can’t go any faster than Mach 1.5 right now. Means it’ll take a little longer to get out there. Hope you two can get comfortable with one another real fast.” 

“You…you set this up,” you hissed, your anger bubbling to the surface now that your employer was out of range. “I ought to ask your father to hang you.”

This only made him laugh. “He would only love the pleasure, I’m sure.”

And I would love to see your corpse swinging by the neck, you thought.  “Why? Why did you do this?” you asked with frustration. “You hate me and I absolutely hate you, Loki, so why force us to be in closer proximity for longer than necessary?”

“Oh, I couldn’t stand the idea of being apart from you, sweet pea! It’s my greatest delight in life to always hover five paces behind you and piss you off. The mere idea of being so far away for so long!” Loki brought a mocking hand to his heart, expressing fake sadness in both his body and face. “My heart would only cry for you.”

“I should just make you go alone and make an ass of yourself,” you suggested. “Maybe some Australian hell-beast will swallow you whole.”

“Oh-ho! By all means,” Loki chuckled, throwing his head back. “Let me loose without supervision in a foreign country as the sole representative of the United States, the Nine Realms, and the Avengers. That will go over well for all of us.”

Your jaw hung open, no witty retorts for him, Unfortunately, he was right. Punking out would in one way or another, only serve to humiliate yourself and Stark.

“Ah, ah…” Loki tucked a finger under your chin, nudging your mouth closed by poking your chin upward, “You’ll catch flies.” 

He left you there, speechless in the middle of the room, only turning back in the doorway to add: “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow, darling!”

Before going to bed that night, curled up in your sad little futon in your one-bedroom loft, you prayed to every god that wasn’t Asgardian that there would be some kind of apocalyptic blizzard that popped up out of nowhere, forcing the takeoff to be delayed. Inclement weather was probably the only acceptable excuse for Loki to be a no-show down in Sydney. WHile the city didn;t necessarily get as much snow as upstate near the lakes, it usually took a few inches to shut the whole place down. There was hope. Perhaps the weatherfolks were keeping it a surprise…

This meant, of course, that the next morning was the first perfectly sunny morning New York had seen in weeks. In a small act of rebellion against the little shit you had to babysit, you chose to take your sweet time getting in. You purposefully dragged your feet down to the subway, your suitcase dragging along like a weight tethered to your wrist. You saw an abnormally-long line outside of a coffee shop and decided to stop in for an Americano. 

By the time you made it to the rooftop of Stark Tower, you were over an hour late, which was not typical for you. The jet was otherwise prepped, the diminutive young pilot tapping his feet impatiently by the nose, Stark and Loki just tossing the last of his belongings in around the side. 

“Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” said Tony. 

Loki dropped what he was doing and shuffled up to you. He gave a mock bow, taking your hand and laying a big wet kiss on the back of it. “My escort, how lovely to finally see your bright face ready for our trip!”

“Die.”

Loki pouted. “Oh, is that any way to greet your business partner? I asked for you to be at my side all week long! Don’t you think I’m owed a little more courtesy?”

“Please die.”

“That’s my girl.” 

Just before you boarded, Tony gave you a wink and one last piece of advice: “Remember, when the going gets tough, lie back and think of England.”

The last thing he saw before the doors shut was your middle finger. 

Once the pilot got the quinjet into the air, he announced that he’d need to take his time in order to appease whatever yet-to-be-diagnosed tech issue the plane had, and prevent something from happening. 

“Ugh, so what’s our ETA, then?” Loki asked impatiently, the saccharine facade dropping the instant he was out of Stark’s view. 

The pilot shrugged. “I can get us there safely in five hours, maybe.”

“FIVE HOURS?” you groaned. “This thing is--”

“--gonna disintegrate if I don’t treat it gently,” he shot back. “Relax! It’s still a hell of a lot faster than if you were flying in a Boeing, okay?”

You and Loki looked at each other with annoyance. You sighed and went to sit as far away from the cockpit as you could, taking a green-jacketed book from your shoulder bag and flipping it open a bit too dramatically. 

Unfortunately, Loki didn’t seem to take the hint, sitting beside you and peeking over your shoulder. 

“You kept us waiting on purpose,” he accused. “You’re a bit of a brat, you know.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Gently shutting the book, you turned to Loki with the most serious expression you could muster without losing your professionalism. 

“Look, Laufeyson, you’re the one who set this up for us. If I had to venture a guess, it’s because you’re bored and needed a new way to make me miserable. But let’s make one thing perfectly clear: I hate you. I can’t stand your smarmy face and how you get off on making me crazy! Every time you open your mouth, it makes me want to drop-kick an orphan! I’d rather have a root canal while on ecstasy every day for the rest of my life than be sitting right here next to you.”

Loki didn’t blink. “...and how does that make you feel?”

“But I’m getting my big payout when this is all over, so for FUCK’S SAKE, let’s make this easy on both of us? You don’t bother me, I won’t bother you. You can find a kangaroo’s pouch to ride around in for all I care.” You went to open your book again, but Loki laid a firm hand over top of it. 

“I’m hurt. Truly.”

You snickered. “Sure.”

“You know what your problem is?” Loki leaned back, crossing his hands casually. “You’re too uptight.”

“Uptight? You call me defending myself against all of your abuse UPTIGHT?” you growled from behind your gritted teeth. 

“Well, it wasn’t abuse at first,” Loki added, “I was only making jokes to say hello!”

“Bullshit,” you said angrily. “The day we met, you called me a servant and asked if I would massage your feet.”

“Well, now it’s just fun for me to watch you lose your temper,” he admitted. “The thought of being alone with you to twist and push every button you’ve got just to see how loudly you’d shout…”

“Stop it, Loki! I’d rather this plane go down right now than be alone with you. Ever!”

Tags: @anukulee @jiyascepter @wolfsmom1 @cakesandtom @holdmytesseract @simplyholl @lokisgoodgirl @mjsthrillernp @meowmeow-motherfucker @foxherder @letstalkaboutshtufff @ladymischief11 @libby-bibby @javagirl328 @crimson25 @lcolumbia1988 @gruftiela @mochie85 @huntress-artemiss @loz-3 @kikster606 @muddyorbsblr @sheris532 @lokischambermaid @kneelingformyloki @soulpiercing @goddessgirl43 @canigetanap @theoneandonlythorn @forleiasake @eleniblue @knight-of-the-doctor @goblingirlsarah @clusterfuck-meup @mischief2sarawr

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki x reader #loki fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki/reader #loki smut #loki comedy #island fic #deserted island #alone with loki #enemies to lovers #Avenger!Loki #Avengers #Island AU #Smutty loki #island fever #thor #tony stark #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #steve rogers #sam wilson #captain america #rescue fic #deserted island trope #marvel loki

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Steve be like

Damn, I'd tell him where Jimmy Hoffa's buried with that kind of interrogation method!

Interrogate Me - Steve Rogers x Reader 🍆🥰

Summary: Steve Rogers is tasked with interrogating you - his ex and former Avenger - for information on the Mind Stone. He resorts to unconventional methods when you don’t comply.

Contains: Domination, interrogation, fingering, lovers-to-enemies.

Warnings: Dub-con. Steve’s aggressive and a bit of an asshole. YN telling Steve to hit her (he doesn’t). Potentially triggering for some.

A/N: Based on this post. Credit to @simplyholl for the nudge of, ‘fingering the information out of us’ and forcing him to rough us up a bit!

Words: 1,100

“I’m not gonna ask you again.”

Rogers stilled his expression, lips pulled taught, his breath on your cheek. Even through the incognito hoodie and sweatpants, the authority oozed from every pore.

“Is this little routine designed to make me believed you’re gonna rough me up a little? That’s really not your style, Rogers.”

His jaw clenched, a puff of air snorting from his nostrils. “Maybe not.” He glanced to the left. “Romanoff, wait in the jet.”

“No can do, Cap. You need back-up.” The redhead cocked her head in determination.

“Now.”

She rolled her eyes and turned, leaving you both alone, Cap pressing you into the wall.

“C’mon, Agent. You got no loyalty to Stucker.” He snarled, glancing to the side as a memory washed over him like a rough wave over stone. “You used to have loyalty to me.”

You scoffed, causing the soldier to back up, straighten up. And look you up and down. “You’re really gonna protect him, huh. Why. They treatin’ you better than we did?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Rogers.”

“Where’s the stone.”

“Why would I tell you.”

He closed the space between you, pressing himself into your hip. “You really wanna do this?”

“What, force you to hit me? You know what, I think I’d enjoy it.”

He grunted at your insolence. You felt his cock harden against your hipbone. He pushed his jawline into the dip between your shoulder and your neck, whispering menacingly. “You are gonna enjoy it.” Staying pressed against you, chin resting on your shoulder, he unbuttoned your jeans and slipped his hand into your knickers. “Soaked. Course you are. Where’s the stone?”

“Well you ain’t gonna find it in there.”

He scoffed a laugh, two fingers entering you, silencing you. “What’s he usin’ it for?”

“Shut up, Rogers.”

He continued to fuck you with his fingers, one obnoxious knuckle grazing your clit, feeling the roughness of his battle-worn hands on the softest part of you. Just how you used to like it. “It brainwashed Barton. What else does it do? What does Stucker use it for?” He worked you until you were gasping, giving you every opportunity to respond. When you answered him with only moans, he pulled away, looking back at you, arms crossed, smirking.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Maybe.”

“You really think this is gonna work? I’ll just finish myself off.”

“Want me to turn around? Give you a little privacy.”

“Fuck you, Rogers.” Hot, angry tears welled in your eyes.

Something in his expression softened. He closed the gap between you, pressing his forehead to yours. “Look, I’m not gonna hurt you. And I’ll let you finish. Just tell me what I need to know.”

You closed your eyes, the sensation of him hovering so close to you overwhelming your senses, making you feel as though your skin was on fire. You reached up and held the back of his head, sighing upon feeling the softness of his hair. “Steve, he’ll kill me.”

“Stucker?”

“Yeah.”

“We won’t give him a chance.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’ll kill him myself.” He rubbed a hand up your arm. He might be an ass, but he wasn’t a liar. His hands slipped back into your underwear, gently toying with your clit until your back arched off the wall. He pressed the side of his face against yours, his voice husking in your ear. “Tell me about the sceptre. It contains a stone. What does it do?”

You groaned, the sound causing him to shiver. “It has powers. Stucker isn’t sure exactly how to use it. He’s experimenting with it.”

“Why?” He inserted a finger into you, drawing it out slowly, then back in, soaked up to his rough knuckles in your juices.

“He’s trying to create enhanced beings. He’s created two. Twins. One’s fast. One can move things with her mind.”

“Mmm.” Steve closed his eyes as he inserted his second finger, the feeling of your heat taking him back to a time when you were his. It took everything in him not to pull down his pants and bend you over the nearest table. “What else, baby? Tell me.”

“It’s not from earth. We think it’s connected to the Tesseract in some way.”

Both of your eyes were closed now, lost in each other.

“Connected how?”

“He doesn’t know. The Tesseract, it’s about space. This stone, it’s about the mind. He thinks there are other stones.”

“Good girl.” His soft, dominant tones whispered in your ear made you want to scream. Scream his name, scream out the information, scream just for the hell of it, for the feeling of his hard body pressed into yours, his chest firm against your own. “Can you tell me where he is?” His hand snaked up against the wall, cradling the back of your head, the softness of your hair in his hands almost causing him to lose focus. “Tell me, baby. I’ll find him. I promise.”

“Sokovia. On the edge of the city. The base of the – ” you groaned as he picked up his pace, digits thrusting in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit with intent. “mountain. Base of he mountain. T-Tony can find it with… with…. the heat signature. Old f-factory, you can’t, you can’t – MISS IT!” You cried out as you came over his hand, climax almost knocking you off your feet. It was always powerful with Steve. What the hell the serum had to do with his fingering technique, you had no idea. You had never figured it out. Frankly, you didn’t care.

In your post-orgasm haze, Steve readjusted your underwear and buttoned up your jeans, smoothing you down so you looked as though he hadn’t just finger-fucked you within an inch of your life. He stayed there, close to you, off script, speaking from the heart. “Come back to us. Please.” His voice cracked. You remained silent. “You don’t have to decide now. There’s always a place for you on the team.”

You slipped a burner phone into the pocket of his sweatpants. “Call me when you’ve killed him.” He nodded silently, toying with the device in his pocket. When he walked away, he had the audacity to use one of Natasha’s favourite lines, delivered with an authoritative nod of his head.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

Back on the jet, the Russian sat in the cockpit waiting, her boots resting on the dash.

“He’s in Sokovia. He’s using the stone to create enhanced beings.”

When she turned, she saw him wiping his hands on a filthy discarded rag, thoroughly working on each finger in turn. Natasha squinted at him, silently asking what the fuck he just did to obtain that level of intel. He simply smirked.

“It’s like this, Romanoff. Sometimes you gotta get your hands dirty.”

Taggos: @lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @flesh--amnesiacunrated @skymoonandstardust @alexakeyloveloki @cabingrlandrandomcrap @cakesandtom @mrs-illyrian-baby @muddyorbsblr @irishhappiness @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @glitchquake @dangertoozmanykids101 @animnerd @wavyhairedvixen @emarich7 @km-ffluv @thegodofnotknowing @simplyholl @acidcasualties @foxherder @salempoe @loz-3 @late-to-the-party-81 @mochie85 @loopsisloops @somewereinthegalaxi  @lokiandbuckysdoll @meg81589 @divine-knight-hand

#bestie boost #go read this #sexy steve

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

So...Bucky is ferally hunting my ass in the middle of Hydra's Hunger Games??

You could make a whole series out of this. It reminds me a lot of The Most Dangerous Game, only infinitely sexier (I was once in a staged version!) This was deliciously dark. I ate it up.

Hunted

Summary: Hydra hosts a training exercise for their super soldiers. You can run, but you can't hide from the Winter Soldier.

Pairing: Dark Winter Soldier x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. This is a dark fic. Non con. Death.

See my Masterlist Here

You ran as hard as your feet would carry you. You were terrified, shaking so hard you were surprised that you could even move. Footsteps approached quickly, your breath hitches as you make a decision. You could run, but the super soldier could easily catch up to you. Or you could stay where you are and pray that you are hidden well enough that he won't find you.

Last month, Hydra caught your uncle's company trying to take them down. They killed all the men that worked there and captured all the women. They brought you all to cells under their headquarters. They fed you three meals a day, stating you all would need your strength for what they had planned.

This morning, you learned what they had meant. You were all brought out to the edge of the woods. The man in charge told you that they were training their super soldiers today. They would be practicing their hunting skills. A large van pulled up, and out came ten super soldiers. You looked around, counting the women who were with you. There were twenty-three of you. A second van halted to a stop beside the other. Two large men drug out another.

He was chained up, arms behind his back, black mask almost like a muzzle covered his mouth. His dark, shoulder length hair was messy, piercing blue eyes locking on you. You felt like you were going to faint. The Winter Soldier was the most brutal of all the super soldiers. A skilled assassin, he was sent on Hydra's most important missions. He did all their dirty work.

The Hydra leader who brought you outside explained the rules to the prisoners and soldiers. They were going to give you all an hour head start. Your job was to hide from the men. If they found you, they could do whatever they wanted with you as a reward. Bile rose in your throat, turning the contents of your stomach sour. Some of you wouldn't come out of this alive. But if you were fortunate enough to make it until sunrise, you would be free.

The footsteps grow closer, you close your eyes hoping he won't notice the footprints you had left in the mud. Then you see him, the man was tall, blonde hair shaved off. He walked toward the bushes you were hiding in. Your hand flies to your mouth to hide your cries. To your dismay, one escapes anyway. The soldier's head whips toward the noise, across the way from you.

You realize it wasn't you who cried too loudly. The soldier smiles wickedly, reaching for the poor woman who just gave up her hiding spot. He flings her out of the bushes onto the hard ground. More tears fall when you notice that it's Claire, the secretary from your uncle's failed company.

The soldier begins pawing at her as she tries to fight him off. It's no use. He holds her down with one knee on her torso, as he strips off his clothes. "You're my second one today." He brags. "Let's see if you're luckier than the last one. I choked her too hard." His evil laugh echoes through the quiet forest. When he rips Claire's clothing from her shaking body, you take the opportunity to run.

He looks up when he hears you leaving your shelter. "I'll catch up to you next!" He yells after you. The sun has started setting, you take a precious minute to catch your breath. You know if you stop for too long, you'll lose your momentum, or someone could catch up to you. You hear the screams and cries of your fellow prisoners as you make your way further into the woods. You search for a new place to hide, since it would be dark soon.

They could have at least equipped you with flashlights, you think to yourself. That was the whole point of all of this, wasn't it? You weren't meant to survive. Hydra expected the super soldiers to kill most of you. The women who survived would be brought back to the prison, probably made to work for them now that their spirits had been broken.

It was almost too dark to continue, so you took shelter in a cluster of bushes, shrinking yourself as small as you could underneath it. Night fell, and you laid on the cold ground, the horrendous sounds of the others getting caught filled the air. Finally, you rested your eyes. You needed the rest if you were going to make until the morning.

You woke up, sensing someone was nearby. You silently prayed that it was just another prisoner and not a threat. You release the shaky breath you were holding when they leave the area. The dark sky turns reddish - pink and you sigh with relief. It shouldn't be long now. Sunrise was so close you could almost taste your freedom.

You close your eyes, hoping that when you opened them the next time, this torture would be over. Your few moments of peace were interrupted when the blonde super soldier from earlier reached down into the bushes, pulling you up by your hair. Your scream rips through the woods, the soldier slings you back onto the ground, kicking you. "Shut up, bitch. I told you I was coming for you. You're my sixth, and from the looks of it, my last." He gestures to the sky.

He rips your shirt from your body. You try to cover yourself, but he moves your hands away. A metal hand wraps around the soldier's neck, a sickening crunch filling your ears as The Winter Soldier snaps it with ease. The soldier slumps over, his lifeless body landing with a thud.

"Mine." The Winter Soldier states, blue eyes locked on your exposed bra. A cold metal finger slips under the bra between your breasts, tearing it from your body with no effort. "No please! I almost made it. Please don't do this!" You cry, pleading with him. His hands find your breasts, squeezing roughly. His eyes land on your peaked nipples, taking them between his fingers.

He twists and pulls too roughly. When he's finished his assault on them, he reaches for his face, removing the black mask from his mouth. He's beautiful, you think for a split second. His blue eyes and pouty, full lips seemed like they didn't belong on the same man who was trained to kill. "Like what you see?" He smirks, when he notices you staring at his face. He pushes your breasts together, face lowering toward them. He runs his tongue from one pointed nipple to the other. Chapped lips taking one between them, sucking harshly.

He bites down, pulling your nipple with his teeth. You cry out, hands on his face trying to push him away. He chuckles, as you fight him, biting down your torso to your pants. He pulls them down along with your panties, discarding them immediately. One thick finger runs through your folds, disappointment evident as it comes out dry. "You're not even wet for me? We can't have that. I won't fit if you're not ready."

You shiver at his words. You didn't want to know how big he was. You had studied the super soldier serum enough at your old job to know that the serum enhanced everything. He brings his mouth down against your core, lips brushing your clit. He swirls his tongue around it, metal arm hooking under your legs to bring you closer. His full lips tug on your clit, you can't help but moan for him.

"That's it, good girl. If you're good for me, I'll convince them to let me keep you." You spit at him, kicking your legs, to push him away. "Why would I want that?" He smiles, because Hydra's gonna kill anyone left in these woods when this is over." You gasp, you should have known. "You didn't really think they would just let you go? You know too much. They will let me keep you as my little plaything though. All I have to do is say the word."

You didn't doubt him for a second. “Stop fighting." He commands, lowering his face again. His nose brushes your clit while he works his tongue inside you. You try to fight back, but he misinterprets your movements. He thinks you're enjoying it now. "That's it." The Winter Soldier suckles your swollen clit, hot tongue lapping up every drop of arousal. You bite your lips so hard; it bleeds trying to keep a moan in.

He grabs your chin, jerking your face towards him. "Do not hold back from me, kitten." His warm tongue drags over you slowly before his plump lips suction around your clit. Your thighs close against his ears as he draws a forceful orgasm out of you, legs trembling as you flood his face. Your moan rips through your throat, earning a satisfied smile from the soldier.

He spreads your legs with one hand, his other freeing his hard cock. You were right about the size of it. You were so fortunate that he got you wet first. You'd be lucky if he didn't split you in half. He plunges inside you, you squirm from the painful way he entered you. "Hold still." He says, holding your stomach down. "I can't, it hurts too much." You whine. The Winter Soldier rolls his eyes, lifting you like a rag doll.

He sits on the ground, lowering you onto him. This position was worse for you. He hit even deeper than before. But he could hold you better this way. His metal arm snakes around your waist, holding you close. He bounces you on his cock, your arms wrap around his neck. His fingers dig into your hips as you get used to it and start to grind on him.

Your clit brushes his dark curls as you ride him. "I knew you would be worth it." He grunts. "I wanted you the moment I saw you this morning. I found you immediately. You're not great at hiding, you know. But I waited. I knew it would be better if I let you think you could escape." He chuckles, "You should have seen those other broads, they would piss themselves when they saw me. But I only wanted you, so I left them for the others."

His dark pants rub against your thighs as he fucks into you. You roll your hips, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. "You feel incredible." He moans into the crook of your neck. You scratch at his leather clad back, as the Winter Soldier's mouth latches onto the exposed skin of your neck. He sucks harshly, making sure it will leave a mark. You clench around him as he cums inside you.

His metal hand reaches between you, icy digits colliding with your heat. His thumb circles your clit, causing you to unravel. You shake in his arms, too exhausted to move as he pulls you off him. He takes his shirt off, handing it to you. "Put this on. I don't want anyone looking at my little doll." You take it, looking up at the sun coming up in the distance.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @queenshu @justsebstan

#bucky fic #most dangerous game #hunger games #and im the hungry one #go read this

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

"Time & the Trickster" a Loki/Doctor Who crossover

Epilogue: Goddess of Stories

Time goes by...

CHAPTER WARNING (18+): none, other than I cried again

Previous Chapter MASTERLIST

The Doctor sniffed the air as he stepped out of the smoking TARDIS. He reached into his pocket and felt the Sonic Screwdriver inside. Taking it out, he pressed a button, grinning when it lit up and proved that it was fully-functional again.

The environment smelled deliciously familiar. London. His native timeline. Approximately…2007 AD? 

Looking down at the rubbish-covered sidewalk in front of the alley where the TARDIS landed, The Doctor smiled and picked up a dirty, wet flier that simply read ‘Vote Saxon.’

“I’m back!” he said with a grin. He opened his mouth and breathed in to taste the air around him. “And…hmm…what’s that?” 

Beyond the alley, a bit further on, a large skyscraper seemingly brand-new to the London horizon stood, a large sign in the front reading ‘Adipose Industries.” 

“Adipose, eh? Now, that’s a bit curious, isn’t it? What are they doing here?” he said aloud to himself, the name triggering The Doctor’s immediate interest. He walked across the street for a closer look. Something strange was brewing here, he could feel it, perhaps something dangerous or even deadly. 

And he wouldn’t miss it for anything. 

“You heading out, Sis?” Joey called out from the sofa, his head leaning back against the cushions. 

You were dressed in a lovely black cocktail dress, hair tossed expertly into a messy bun. The high heels you’d gotten proved to be a bit too much, but  you knew you had to make the right impression at this dinner meeting. 

“Yeah, don’t wait up,” you replied. “If it goes well, they’ll sign me, and we’ll get a round of congratulatory drinks.” 

You sucked in your breath, observing yourself one last time in the long mirror mounted in the doorway of your small-but-cozy house in the northern suburb, purchased with the sale of your first book last year. The novel you’d written about a lonely woman saving the world by returning a god to the stars was an underground hit when you’d first independently published it, and after six months and two reprints to meet demand, Random House was on the verge of signing a three-book deal with you, estimated to be worth at least a million once you chose and signed with the agent you were meeting tonight.

It was your birthday, three years to the night that you’d rescued Loki from a holding cell downtown. The date for this life-changing moment seemed almost preordained. 

“You got this,” called Joey half-heartedly. You knew he meant it, but he was already four beers into his night off, and he could only muster so much emotion without exhausting himself. His new bartending job was on a college campus, and he was still adjusting to the busy weekends of ungrateful 20-year-olds demanding to be served. 

Neither of you seemed to want to rush into relationships. Joey had never been the type for long-term entanglements of any sort, and the fallout of your whirlwind romance with the God of Stories had left most other prospects lacking. You’d dated in the years since that adventurous summer, but no one stuck in your heart the way Loki had. 

You hoped he hadn’t ruined you. Only time would tell. 

Your taxi was late, but seeing as it was a beautiful, rain-free spring evening, it was a pleasure to wait under the setting sun for it. It didn’t hurt that you didn’t live in the city anymore. The air smelled better, the ambience was less-frantic, and best of all: you could see the sky at night, which was what you’d told Joey was the most important factor when you decided to continue cohabitation and look for a new place. You could still see the city from your front yard, especially at night when it was all aglow, but the light pollution didn’t extend far enough to obscure the stars.

Almost every night that wasn’t overcast, you spent hours sitting on the low roof over the front door, watching for any sign that what you’d been through, the things you’d seen, and the feelings you’d experienced had all been real. Joey had always been able to assure you that your journey across the sea to restore Loki to his terrible throne had been real. 

To keep those feelings close to your memories, you wrote them down and gave them to your brother to read. 

“Damn,” he had said after reading your first draft, “you should get these in print…maybe change the names a bit so Disney doesn’t bean you with a lawsuit…”

Taking his suggestion to mind, you adjusted a few factors: turning Loki and The Doctor specifically into original characters who just HAPPENED to share a lot in common with their counterparts. After two furious rewrites, you had a worthy tale that caught a lot of attention. Several books about “The Great Greening” (which scientists had explained away as a climate change phenomenon) had preceded yours, but none read as intimately as what you had to offer. Admittedly, you’d played up the romance and added a bit of wishful thinking (having included an alternate ending to the book where Loki came back for you and Sylvie was tied to the throne forever). It was the sincere passion behind your words that attracted fans. 

The final signing was taking place over dinner at the Blue Palm downtown, the only place in Syracuse fancy enough to serve escargot. 

You closed your eyes as you stood in your driveway, waiting for your cab (perhaps a car would be your next extravagant purchase). You gently whispered one word into the night:

Loki. 

Opening your eyes, you were just in time to see a green streak line the sky before disappearing over the tree line. You went warm inside. Someone was thinking of you and loving you tonight. 

“I love you too,” you sighed with a smile. “Forever.” 

You knew you would never see him again, yet every time you felt the anxiety rise in your blood, you told yourself one thing: you were in Loki’s caring hands, even if from ‘somewhere out there.’ As long as you could see that green flash in the night, you knew he was real, and that he was watching. 

Conscious of a large yellow cab pulling up around the corner, you took in one more brave breath, and rode off toward your future. 

Always watching. For eternity. A Time Lord of his own ordination. 

All Loki could do was remain tethered to the golden throne, all of time between his fingers, the most powerful creature to ever exist, and also the most powerless. His only consolation was the ability to see within them, like a spectator watching you move on without him. 

He could see Mobius play with his sons. He could see The Doctor jetting around history with his ginger-haired best friend. He could see Joey finally become manager at his job. He could see you on your book tour, smiling for cameras and earning enough money to guarantee your security. It seemed you were becoming quite a goddess of stories.

All of you were getting on with your lives in various ways, as it should have been. 

Now, he was watching with quiet pride as you accepted the proposal of the good-looking, warm-hearted man you’d met the night you’d signed your first book deal, who'd started off as your agent before you both found your feelings for one another morphing into something more. Loki sent out a green falling star to celebrate your engagement, and to give his blessing to your match.

A tear pricked the corner of his eye. You made all of it worthwhile. It was an honor keeping you alive. 

“For you,” he repeated one final time, “For all of us."

Thank you for going on this journey with me. I hope it was worth the trip! ~. Lena

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @kkdvkyya @red-shirt-mania @misschris1412 @salvinaa @marygoddessofmischief @spiderstyles04 @fireflymoonwitch @mochie85 @loz-3 @lcolumbia1988 @lokilurker @eleniblue @gruftiela @starkzdaughter @mrsbarnes-avenger @thedistractedagglomeration @km-ffluv @lokisgoodgirl @holdmytesseract @itsthattimedarling @wolfsmom1 @scully2u @shinisenko @mischief2sarawr @ririsutty73 @lulubelle814 @meg81589 @gloriuspurposeposts @theonetruepotato87 @linllewellyn @wistfulclueless @etherealkistar @tinydancer40 @hardtravelerwizard-blog @fangirlofmanysstuff @krabog @soulpiercing @archivelaurarps @banjo-bastard

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

It's always bittersweet when a multichapter fic comes to a conclusion. Thanks to every one of my readers for encouraging me and helping me out to make this my best story yet! I love you all.

Until the TARDIS returns, Lena

"Time & the Trickster"- MASTERLIST A MCU/Doctor Who crossover

by ijuststareatstuffhereok89

One last-ditch effort to prevent his total sacrifice at the TVA sends Loki careening through the Timelines until he finds what may be the strangest one of all: one where there is only one Realm, gods and heroes are but the subjects of stories, and Loki is nothing more than a silly character played by a rather dashing actor. His only hope comes in the form of the first person he meets, who suggests a mysterious mad Doctor might be his only chance to return home. 

PAIRING: eventual Loki x Reader, hinted Ten x Rose Tyler GENRE: Time-Travel Adventure, Romance, Some Smut CONTENT WARNING (DNI, 18+ ONLY): some elements of smut, character betrayal, anti-Sylvie, more to come

Prologue: The Stone 1- A Birthday Surprise 2- Window to the World 3- The Doctor and I 4- The Magic I Can Do 5- Boston 6- Two If By Sea 7- A Titanic Setback 8- For Now 9- Look Up 10- Green Sky in the Morning 11- London 12- The Three Time Lords 13- Those of Us Left Behind 14- Sylvie's Choice 15- Journey's End Epilogue: Goddess of Stories

IF YOU'D LIKE TO BE TAGGED FOR UPDATES, PLEASE COMMENT & REBLOG THIS MASTERLIST PLEASE! Thank you!

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #time travel #crossover fic #adventure #doctor who #doctor who crossover #mcu/doctor who crossover #tenth doctor

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

"Time & the Trickster"

a Loki/Doctor Who crossover

Epilogue: Goddess of Stories

Time goes by...

CHAPTER WARNING (18+): none, other than I cried again

Previous Chapter

MASTERLIST

The Doctor sniffed the air as he stepped out of the smoking TARDIS. He reached into his pocket and felt the Sonic Screwdriver inside. Taking it out, he pressed a button, grinning when it lit up and proved that it was fully-functional again.

The environment smelled deliciously familiar. London. His native timeline. Approximately…2007 AD? 

Looking down at the rubbish-covered sidewalk in front of the alley where the TARDIS landed, The Doctor smiled and picked up a dirty, wet flier that simply read ‘Vote Saxon.’

“I’m back!” he said with a grin. He opened his mouth and breathed in to taste the air around him. “And…hmm…what’s that?” 

Beyond the alley, a bit further on, a large skyscraper seemingly brand-new to the London horizon stood, a large sign in the front reading ‘Adipose Industries.” 

“Adipose, eh? Now, that’s a bit curious, isn’t it? What are they doing here?” he said aloud to himself, the name triggering The Doctor’s immediate interest. He walked across the street for a closer look. Something strange was brewing here, he could feel it, perhaps something dangerous or even deadly. 

And he wouldn’t miss it for anything. 

“You heading out, Sis?” Joey called out from the sofa, his head leaning back against the cushions. 

You were dressed in a lovely black cocktail dress, hair tossed expertly into a messy bun. The high heels you’d gotten proved to be a bit too much, but  you knew you had to make the right impression at this dinner meeting. 

“Yeah, don’t wait up,” you replied. “If it goes well, they’ll sign me, and we’ll get a round of congratulatory drinks.” 

You sucked in your breath, observing yourself one last time in the long mirror mounted in the doorway of your small-but-cozy house in the northern suburb, purchased with the sale of your first book last year. The novel you’d written about a lonely woman saving the world by returning a god to the stars was an underground hit when you’d first independently published it, and after six months and two reprints to meet demand, Random House was on the verge of signing a three-book deal with you, estimated to be worth at least a million once you chose and signed with the agent you were meeting tonight.

It was your birthday, three years to the night that you’d rescued Loki from a holding cell downtown. The date for this life-changing moment seemed almost preordained. 

“You got this,” called Joey half-heartedly. You knew he meant it, but he was already four beers into his night off, and he could only muster so much emotion without exhausting himself. His new bartending job was on a college campus, and he was still adjusting to the busy weekends of ungrateful 20-year-olds demanding to be served. 

Neither of you seemed to want to rush into relationships. Joey had never been the type for long-term entanglements of any sort, and the fallout of your whirlwind romance with the God of Stories had left most other prospects lacking. You’d dated in the years since that adventurous summer, but no one stuck in your heart the way Loki had. 

You hoped he hadn’t ruined you. Only time would tell. 

Your taxi was late, but seeing as it was a beautiful, rain-free spring evening, it was a pleasure to wait under the setting sun for it. It didn’t hurt that you didn’t live in the city anymore. The air smelled better, the ambience was less-frantic, and best of all: you could see the sky at night, which was what you’d told Joey was the most important factor when you decided to continue cohabitation and look for a new place. You could still see the city from your front yard, especially at night when it was all aglow, but the light pollution didn’t extend far enough to obscure the stars.

Almost every night that wasn’t overcast, you spent hours sitting on the low roof over the front door, watching for any sign that what you’d been through, the things you’d seen, and the feelings you’d experienced had all been real. Joey had always been able to assure you that your journey across the sea to restore Loki to his terrible throne had been real. 

To keep those feelings close to your memories, you wrote them down and gave them to your brother to read. 

“Damn,” he had said after reading your first draft, “you should get these in print…maybe change the names a bit so Disney doesn’t bean you with a lawsuit…”

Taking his suggestion to mind, you adjusted a few factors: turning Loki and The Doctor specifically into original characters who just HAPPENED to share a lot in common with their counterparts. After two furious rewrites, you had a worthy tale that caught a lot of attention. Several books about “The Great Greening” (which scientists had explained away as a climate change phenomenon) had preceded yours, but none read as intimately as what you had to offer. Admittedly, you’d played up the romance and added a bit of wishful thinking (having included an alternate ending to the book where Loki came back for you and Sylvie was tied to the throne forever). It was the sincere passion behind your words that attracted fans. 

The final signing was taking place over dinner at the Blue Palm downtown, the only place in Syracuse fancy enough to serve escargot. 

You closed your eyes as you stood in your driveway, waiting for your cab (perhaps a car would be your next extravagant purchase). You gently whispered one word into the night:

Loki. 

Opening your eyes, you were just in time to see a green streak line the sky before disappearing over the tree line. You went warm inside. Someone was thinking of you and loving you tonight. 

“I love you too,” you sighed with a smile. “Forever.” 

You knew you would never see him again, yet every time you felt the anxiety rise in your blood, you told yourself one thing: you were in Loki’s caring hands, even if from ‘somewhere out there.’ As long as you could see that green flash in the night, you knew he was real, and that he was watching. 

Conscious of a large yellow cab pulling up around the corner, you took in one more brave breath, and rode off toward your future. 

Always watching. For eternity. A Time Lord of his own ordination. 

All Loki could do was remain tethered to the golden throne, all of time between his fingers, the most powerful creature to ever exist, and also the most powerless. His only consolation was the ability to see within them, like a spectator watching you move on without him. 

He could see Mobius play with his sons. He could see The Doctor jetting around history with his ginger-haired best friend. He could see Joey finally become manager at his job. He could see you on your book tour, smiling for cameras and earning enough money to guarantee your security. It seemed you were becoming quite a goddess of stories.

All of you were getting on with your lives in various ways, as it should have been. 

Now, he was watching with quiet pride as you accepted the proposal of the good-looking, warm-hearted man you’d met the night you’d signed your first book deal, who'd started off as your agent before you both found your feelings for one another morphing into something more. Loki sent out a green falling star to celebrate your engagement, and to give his blessing to your match.

A tear pricked the corner of his eye. You made all of it worthwhile. It was an honor keeping you alive. 

“For you,” he repeated one final time, “For all of us."

Thank you for going on this journey with me. I hope it was worth the trip! ~. Lena

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @kkdvkyya @red-shirt-mania @misschris1412 @salvinaa @marygoddessofmischief @spiderstyles04 @fireflymoonwitch @mochie85 @loz-3 @lcolumbia1988 @lokilurker @eleniblue @gruftiela @starkzdaughter @mrsbarnes-avenger @thedistractedagglomeration @km-ffluv @lokisgoodgirl @holdmytesseract @itsthattimedarling @wolfsmom1 @scully2u @shinisenko @mischief2sarawr @ririsutty73 @lulubelle814 @meg81589 @gloriuspurposeposts @theonetruepotato87 @linllewellyn @wistfulclueless @etherealkistar @tinydancer40 @hardtravelerwizard-blog @fangirlofmanysstuff @krabog @soulpiercing @archivelaurarps @banjo-bastard

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki/reader #adventure #time travel #crossover fic #mcu crossover #doctor who #doctor who crossover #mcu/doctor who crossover #tenth doctor #time stone #tva #marvel loki #loki series 2 #loki series spoilers #loki season 2 #anti-sylvie #anti-sylki

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Shit, it's not even noon, and today has been terrible. It doesn't ever get better, does it?

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

The gifset that launched a thousand smut fics

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Omg one of my legacy posts 😆 🤣 😂 😹

lol so I saw this photo and thought it screamed "SAS Meme Template."

So, whores and mores, I present: The Hiddleston Meme

@lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @joyful-enchantress @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @silverfire475 @simplyholl @xorpsbane @muddyorbsblr @mochie85

#was i ever this young? #how didnt this go viral as a template #jesus herself posed these two like this for our amusement

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Water....Earth...Fire...Air...

Only the Suckitar, Master of All Four Elements, could restore balance, but when the world needed him most...he vanished (and nobody cared, actually)

"The Stoppables"

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

My period is overdue and I just cried for five minutes over how shrinkflation got to Gushers and now they're the size of a pack of Halloween candy. For you see, my soul is like this bag of Gushers, shrinking as The Man picks and chooses my size and worth day after day...is the simple pleasure of a pack of sweets so vital to a CEO's bottom line that I can't even have a full bag of nasty little semi-plastic sugar blobs at the same cost as it was when I was 6?

I'm not high. But I wanna be.

Lort.

#ugh #so much sad over nothing

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Jesus Christ on a cracker

Tom in a pair of Lederhosen 🫣, what a pity we cannot see all of him!

(I'm not a fan of this garment, but it's spacy 🥭)

@lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @gigglingtiggerv2 @glitchquake @acidcasualties @cleo-fox @superficialdomina @bean-bean2000 @infinitystoner @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @peachyjinx @shiningloki @foxherder @holdmytesseract @wheredafandomat @jiyascepter @loopsisloops @villainousshakespeare @viv-annelore @november-rayne @muddyorbs @littlelokilad @mochie85

and whoever else needs to see this.

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Jenny tryna mammal-splain her mistress there.

- Madame Vastra, thank God. I’ll wager you’ve not seen anything like this before.

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Act II: Echoes

“Annie"

Neither Steve nor Bucky agree to surrender their relationship with you, and the anxiety begins to affect your health and risk complications with your second pregnancy. While on bedrest, you catch Bucky up on lost time, and it makes you begin to realize that perhaps a choice can't be made at all...

CONTENT WARNINGS: pregnancy complications, fighting

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

PREVIOUS CHAPTER - NEXT CHAPTER

STORY MASTERLIST

Alice still saw Bucky as a stranger; Steve thought it would be better if he stayed in the house himself in case she woke up and needed something, so that she could have a familiar face nearby. This meant Bucky was taking you to the emergency room as your sudden pain continued, steady and unyielding. Your skin was hot, trembling with fear for what was going on.

“Please call me as soon as you hear something,” he implored both you and Bucky as an Uber ride pulled up in front of the house. “Buck…take care of my baby and I’ll take care of yours, okay?”

He nodded, his worry for your health overruling any anger he felt toward his friend. In some odd way, it was as if the five years hadn’t come between you, and looking at his face was almost enough to transport you back to Wakanda, the day of your nuptials. He hadn’t gained so much as a wrinkle on his face.

Meanwhile, your body had certainly changed.  You never lost all of the baby-weight from before, and this new little arrival wasn’t helping things. You were surprised Bucky was even willing to try and take you back, considering how different and world-weary you looked compared to back when you were his blushing young bride. Nightingale was hardly the Avenger she used to be.

The hospital in Woodstock was bigger than the rural facility in New England you gave birth in before, but not by much. The ER consisted of a waiting area the size of your den, a triage of only one person on duty, and a larger room with beds separated by curtains. The triage receptionist took you and Bucky right back so you could lie down while waiting to be examined.

Bucky wouldn’t let go of your hand, even as you kept the other over the bump that was there in the first place because of someone else.  “How are you feeling?”

You moaned, lying back against the pillow with a grunt. “Something feels wrong this time.”

“What was it like before?” he asked. “With Alice in there?”

Taking a moment to recollect, the distraction helped alleviate the pain ever so slightly. “Better than this,” you admitted. “The whole ‘mourning you’ thing didn’t help matters, but there was something that felt good about having your baby. It was just something that I had to see through, even through the cravings, late nights, and mood swings.”

“What about the labor part?” he asked. “Did you want me there?”

“Oh hon, of COURSE I did! Unnghhhh,” you groaned slowly, another pain striking you in the lower back. “Fuck, what’s happening?”

“I can help,” said the doctor, coming in at the perfect time to answer you.

You underwent a vital screening, an ultrasound that was so clear you could almost make out your second born’s hair color, and a brief pelvic exam (that you made Bucky close the curtain for…even he didn’t need to see that). While the doctor assured you that the baby was as alive and active as ever, he expressed concern for your health. “The placenta is just starting to detach a little,” he observed from the 3D ultrasound. “Just a little, it’s good you caught it early.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, and Bucky’s shoulders dropped.

The doctor went on, “However, I’m unfortunately going to have to prescribe—”

“—oh, don’t say it—” You quickly rolled your eyes.

“—bed rest,” the doctor finished. “To prevent anything further from detaching or complicating the end of the pregnancy. Your blood pressure is elevated as well, but that doesn’t appear to be from preeclampsia.”

“I’m under a small bit of stress right now,” you muttered bitterly, looking resentfully at your husband. “And you’re telling me to sleep it off?!”

The doctor looked at you with pity. “If things get worse, it could lead to some serious complications for both of you. Please keep that in mind. There are ways you can keep your muscles active in bed, and while I wouldn’t try too many stairs at once, as long as you’re careful, you might be able to get away with walking around slowly for a few minutes ever so often.”

It wasn’t much to assure you, but what choice did you have?

“This is going to complicate things a bit,” you groaned. “My job is part-time, but it still helps with the bills. I was planning on going there for another month.”

“What does Steve do?” asked Bucky. 

“He never told you?” you asked. Bucky shook his head. “He runs a support group for veterans down at the VA, sometimes helps get donations by making local appearances once in a while.”

“Ah.”

Much of the rest of the appointment went by in awkward silence, aside from the good doctor giving instructions for bed rest. You’d need to resign from work, nest up in the big bedroom as soon as possible, and spend the next eight weeks like a clam in its shell. Waiting. Waiting. Sitting. Waiting. 

The hardest part, though, was going to be handling the boys from bed. Your headache returned from the thought of keeping your two suitors from jumping down each others’ throats while incapacitated yourself. 

How the hell were you going to be able to do that?

You wanted there to be another way, but once Bucky told Steve about the doctor’s prescription, he immediately got to work making a nest out of your shared bed, putting extra sitting pillows and comforters that would’ve made the ones at The Plaza look and feel like dishrags. Steve moved light lightning, shifting bookcases into the room that weren’t there before so you have plenty of reading material at hand and plugging in a large flatscreen against the opposite wall. That had impressed you particularly: Steve didn’t see the point of having television in the bedroom when you could snuggle on the sofa to watch Bob Newhart reruns or a film on cable. 

Bucky helped, and it gave you some comfort to see the pair of them working together without sniping at one another. He had Alice show him which of her toys she wanted moved into her new temporary bedroom. It was a good way of starting to get to know his daughter. 

Once you were resting comfortably (as you could be, at least), and Alice had made a little bed for herself underneath the window on a fainting couch that you usually used as a place to toss laundry, the four of you sat on the bed in a circle and spent some time together as a quartet. It felt like Steve and Bucky’s way of assuring you that they didn’t want to get fiery around you and force more complications onto your already miserable body. 

Alice sat in between Steve and Bucky, showing off one of her favorite books to the latter and how well she could read on her own for being not yet five. 

“She’s smart as all heck, I’ll give you that,” Bucky remarked, putting an arm around his daughter. Alice smiled up at him. “But are there any effects from my…from the…?”

You shook your head with a reassuring smile. “We’ve had Bruce and Tony and our doctor look into it. Her intelligence is unusually high for age, and they think that might be due to the serum you had.” 

Steve shrugged. “She’s never shown any signs of aggression or reaction to any of…err…the words. It’s possible Y/N’s healing powers protected her from adverse effects in the womb. She did sing a lot. Gives me hope for this one--” he went to caress your bump, but drew his hand back, looking at Bucky with caution. 

He twisted his lips. “I know. You don’t have to. I’d be doing the same thing, man.” 

You felt a genuine sense of relief at his concession. Steve ran a firm, slow hand over the mound keeping you bedridden for the summer. “I was thinking of names, by the way. Are there any new ones on your mind?”

You sighed, biting your lip and laying back against the headboard. “Not really. I can’t exactly name her after the Mad Hatter.” 

Bucky chuckled. “Is that where you got Ally’s?” You smiled to affirm his suspicion. “Not that it’s not the perfect name!”

“What were you thinking, Steve?”

He looked off into the middle-distance for a second, recalling what he’d written down on the post-it on his desk several days ago, before he left for Stark’s mission to bring everyone back (was it only earlier in the week that happened?). “Well, I think my favorites are Diane, Lucy, Annie, and Mary.”

You rolled your eyes. “Were Esther, Ethel, and Betsy too ‘hip’ for you?”

“I thought about Betsy, actually.” Steve’s cheeks went red. 

Bucky laughed out loud, almost startling Ally. 

“I like Annie,” she said proudly, making her look even more adorable. “I watched that movie at Seb’s house.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “At least I have one vote.” 

At 9:30, you had Alice settle down in her makeshift bed. She was up too late anyway, but you weren’t going to fault her for being a bit too energetic under the circumstances. You also turned off your light to get some sleep. You bade goodnight to Steve and Bucky, but refrained from embracing or kissing either, even though you wanted to do both…to both of them.

Once Steve shut the door, granting you peace, he gave Bucky a significant look. “Thank you,” he said, “For keeping it together for them.”

Bucky looked sad. “I got scared back there. Was afraid something was going to happen to her…both of them. I’m not going to yell at you anymore, Steve. I am still very angry…but yelling and fighting is only going to hurt all of us.”

“You want some coffee?”

Bucky scrunched his face. Steve threw up a defensive hand. “I make it every day now, I’m good at it, I mean it! And I only make it for myself these days ‘cause pregnant women shouldn’t have too much caffeine.” 

Indeed, Bucky showed pleasant surprise when the liquid Steve put in front of him turned out to be rich, dark, and satisfying. “Five years and all you learn is how to fuck a woman and brew a good coffee.” 

Steve, amazingly, didn’t flinch or fire back. Instead, he found himself chuckling in spite of the insult. “Easy there, Buck, we have two months to wrestle this out. Maybe it’ll help all of us if we pretend everything is going to be alright, even when the girls aren’t around. Sometimes pretending something is true makes it true later on. It’s a psychological effect.”

Bucky looked skeptical. “When did you become a therapist?”

“I’m not,” he answered, taking a long sip of coffee, “but my job at the VA teaches me a lot about psychology. In fact…” he cut himself off, putting the mug aside so he could focus on his best friend. 

“...what?”

“I was thinking, Buck, maybe you’d like to go with me.”

He immediately shook his head. “I’m angry. I’m not crazy.”

Sighing deeply, Steve leaned over the island and spoke in a lower voice. “It’s really not like that anymore, Buck. It’s for anyone who’s just a little lost. Don’t you think we’re all feeling that way?”

“Don’t ‘shrink’ me,” Bucky warned, looking away awkwardly. “Wakanda beat you to it.”

“I care about you, and I know she does too. Please come to work with me tomorrow. It’s also possible we could find work for you too. Without Y/N’s paycheck, money might get a little tight. The two super soldiers looked at each other in silence, two alphas both fighting one another and making up for lost time. 

Bucky’s eyes fell on a large doodle hanging from the refrigerator. Steve looked over his shoulder, following the gaze and realizing what he was interested in. He took it down and handed it to Bucky. “Alice drew that in her group a few weeks ago. There’s one for children whose parents were snapped away before or soon after they were born, so they’re all close to her age. She loves going every week.” 

The doodle consisted of scribbles that vaguely resembled a family under a roof. There were four figures, three in color and one in black, off to the side, crying in big, exaggerated blue tears. He had a halo over his head as if he were part angel. The work itself was the standard quality any preschooler would produce, but the message was clear. 

“She thought about me? While I was gone? How did she even know about me?”

“We told you!” Steve raised his voice a moment before reeling himself back. “We’ve spent every second of the last five years living for your sake! You saw your picture on the wall! We told her everything we felt she needed to know about you. And it was a lot. Not about your past and Hydra, but how you met, and how Y/N’s song won your heart, and how if you were here now you’d love her more than anything.”

Bucky looked down at the drawing, touched that he was included in the picture at all. “I do love her. I just couldn’t tell her.”

Steve went on: “Now you can, and I think checking out a therapy group with me tomorrow is a good way of showing it.”

“You really think so?” Bucky perked up. 

As much as he hated to admit it, Steve had to: “I know a lot about Y/N by now…she’s not ready to give you up. I…I’m not sure how much of a chance I have.” 

The brown-haired super soldier didn’t know whether to comfort Steve, or agree that he had no chance with you now that your husband was back on the scene.

“I’ll go, then. For them.”

At least doing that much would win some brownie points with you. 

“And how was it?” you asked, happily shoveling another forkful of beef lo mein in your mouth. 

One benefit to having Bucky feel the need to win you back was that he acquiesced to your will in a way Steve normally wouldn’t. While pregnant this time around, your cravings had been worse than before, and they were almost exclusively for junk foods. The Good Captain always tried to fill the refrigerator with snacking vegetables and milk, but sometimes you just wanted buffalo wings, soda, and crappy, sodium-laced takeout. Steve was still at the VA after his group got out to help management with some things, leaving the little family unit of you, Bucky, and Alice to fend for yourselves. 

“It’s a little strange, but I come from another time,” he admitted. “Sweetpea, there’s a little bit on your face,” he added, indicating his lip and holding out a paper napkin. Alice smiled mischievously and licked it away. Cheeky girl, he thought. She gets it from me.

You chased the lo mein with a long drag of grape soda. More delicious sugar and sodium! You missed being so careless. Sometimes Steve took life too seriously. 

“It’s not like guys didn’t feel things in the 40s…what did you do back then? Did you really just…keep it in?”

He shrugged and looked at you pensively. “Mostly. I think that’s why a lot of us wanted to get married young, though.” 

“Why would being married be therapeutic?”

Bucky’s eyes widened, and he looked sad. “The only time any man ever felt like letting it out was around his girl. She could take care of him and listen to him. Women…they’re stronger. They know what to do to fix themselves, while guys just fall apart.”

“Babe, I never knew you to be the one to generalize that way,” you said. “ We all know how to take care of ourselves if we know what kind of help to look for. Gender has nothing to do with mental health. We are all allowed to ask for help. It’s different now.”

“I know it is,” He went on, looking at Alice again, who was slurping a noodle and giggling at every sound she made, “and thank God it is.”

You looked at one another in silence, smiling tenderly and admiring the physical features that had attracted you to one another in the first place. Bucky’s square jaw, the way his hair was longer than most guys, his smile that could mean fifty different things at once. It was all here, in the material plane for you again. 

“Y’know,” he added, “When you just called me babe…it made it feel like nothing ever happened, that we’re still in Wakanda.”

“Mommy…”

Alice was holding out the small box of lo mein she was eating, which was empty except for a small handful of bean sprouts that she’d eaten around. You sighed sadly. “Al, honey, please try to eat a few veggies!”

“I ate a broccoli!” she protested. 

Bucky leaned over and looked in the takeout box with a chuckle. “You don't like sprouts, do you, kid?” Alice shook her head, her face set into a stern frown. Bucky winked. “Neither do I.” 

“They’re too crunchy!” she said, sticking out her tongue, an act which Bucky playfully mirrored. Ally giggled. 

“Babe, not as much of you went away as you think,” you commented. “I saw you every day when she smiled.” 

Bucky blushed. “Well, she has your eyes.”

Alice yawned, insistently pressing the nearly-empty takeout box into your hands. “Can I go watch TV?”

“What’s on?” you asked protectively. It was 8:30. Usually, Alice was having her bath or reading in bed by now.

“Muppets.”

You sighed, taking the box and putting it on the bedside table. “I’m turning the lights off and closing the door in half an hour. If you aren’t back by nine, I’m locking it and you’re sleeping on the floor.”

Ally giggled. She knew you were only kidding, but she got the point anyway. Hopping down, she shuffled out without excusing herself. 

“She’s a good kid,” you heard Bucky say as you watched her gently shut the door. He began moving closer to you on the mattress, un-crossing his legs and straightening out next to you on the headboard. He wasn’t wearing his metal arm, naturally, so he could get himself physically closer to you. “You and Steve did a good job with her so far.” 

“You’ll do a good job,” you said sweetly, leaning over to finally kiss his warm, plump lips. You could still taste the orange sauce on his breath a little bit. “There’s still thirteen years to go until she’s of age.” 

Once you drew away from him, you reached over to take his hand, moving it under the covers and pressing it against your stomach. You laid your head on his shoulder. You could hear the lightest sigh escape from his mouth. 

“Aren’t you supposed to feel it move?” he asked nervously. 

“She’s usually a bit peppier later at night. It’s still early. I promise you when she does wake up, you’ll feel it from the next room.”

“Was it difficult before?” Bucky asked, slowly tracing circles around your navel with two of his fingers. “Being pregnant?”

“Yes and no,” you explained, “Physically, it was a breeze compared to this. I exercised and ate well and slept semi-regularly. But without you beside me to experience it, it was just this side of hell.” 

Bucky nuzzled your cheek with his affectionately, a move he knew you loved. The gentle touch of his hot skin against your face made you quiver everywhere. There weren’t many other spots on your body that could turn you on as quickly. Even Steve didn’t know about your affinity for tactile foreplay. There was something so raw and intimate when you and Bucky were cheek-to-cheek that drove you crazy. 

“But…one thing that hasn’t changed…” you added. Bucky’s breaths were growing heavier and closer together. 

“Yeah? Doll?”

“My hormones are haywire,” you said quietly, almost pleadingly. “And Steve would never indulge me. There were times I needed to be filled so bad, Buck!” you moaned sadly. “You have no idea…”

“I think I do,” he responded, slowly dragging his nose up the side of your neck until it found the space behind your ear. He nipped your earlobe, taking it between his teeth and giving the little piece of flesh a nibble that sent a shudder down your back. 

“You remembered that spot!” you moaned. “Oh babe…”

“How could I not? It’s only been a few days for me,” he whispered into your ear, reluctantly letting go of your earlobe. “In my mind, we should still be on our honeymoon right now. Nightingale, we’re still newlyweds!”

That hadn’t occurred to you. Not only was Bucky confronted with the idea of his best friend taking his family out from under his nose, but from his perspective, Steve was moving in after just a few days of marriage. No wonder Bucky was having a hard time looking Steve in the eye, and vice versa.

Bucky went back to gently sucking on the tender skin below your neck, running his hands in big circles under the blankets over your bump. You couldn;t help but close your eyes, your mind taking you back to that first night in Wakanda after Princess Shuri had decreed he was ready to be awoken. 

After tireless research and experimentation, Shuri had begun using the sound waves from your song magic to try and stop the harmful connections in Bucky’s brain, the ones corrupted by Hydra’s brainwashing. You brought him out of sleep, and made sure you were the first face he saw upon opening his eyes (that was your idea). If Shuri hadn’t advised you both to keep your hands to yourself, you absolutely would’ve jumped his bones. Instead, you sat under the full moon, listening to the ambience of the city below the palace, and absorbing one another’s stories. In the following weeks, as he recovered, you finally grew physically intimate. 

It was when the King had informed Bucky of impending war on Wakandan soil that Bucky proposed that you get married, literally that evening, before the whole country. “Let’s give them something to party about if tomorrow’s going to be rough,” he’d said. You had squealed with excitement when you agreed. 

Steve had been surprised the next morning when you showed up beside Bucky, hand-in-hand, as husband and wife. He’d embraced you both, one in each arm, and for a moment, you felt safe in spite of the storm clouds gathering. 

Now, even with the tempest of Thanos in the past, the latest forecast wasn’t exactly calling for clear skies. Just as you began moaning Bucky’s name, the door opened. 

Steve had come home. You’d been caught, but Steve’s reaction surprised you. After taking a moment to swallow, he gave a weak, half-hearted smile. “Good,” he mumbled, “You should be making up for lost time.” 

“Steve--” Bucky began, but he threw up a casual hand and shook his head. 

“I’ll make sure Al brushes her teeth,” he said indifferently, refusing to hear more before shutting the door behind him again, leaving you and Bucky in awkward silence. 

As summer climbed, being stuck inside drove you to the brink of insanity. Between the humiliating, awkward tension between the three adults and the fact that you had to spend your entire summer in a hermetically-sealed, air-conditioned bubble while it was sunny and bright outdoors, it was becoming the worst season of your life. 

A few bright spots happened throughout July here and there. Steve had started an annual 4th of July block party tradition on the street, and he didn’t let this year be an exception (especially with twice as many people around to celebrate with). He appeared in his Captain America uniform to take pictures and get some donations for the VA Hospital. The kids would hang off of him like ornaments off a Christmas tree by the end of the evening. 

You could only watch the party from your porch swing, but the fresh air was rare enough for you anyway. It was worth it just to watch Alice run around with Bucky, who was quickly learning all of her games and interests. Perhaps he was a natural father after all. The day passed quickly as you sipped at peach lemonade from the porch swing, watching Bucky play with Alice as Steve ran the show. All four of you watched the fireworks together from your front lawn as the local army band played patriotic tunes. It was a scene right out of a 1940’s family magazine.

You couldn’t sleep at all that night. Against the doctor’s orders, you didn’t stay in bed. You walked back out to the porch swing and sat under the night sky, looking up and enjoying the rare silence. 

The storm door cracked open. “I heard you get up.”

Steve was in a wife beater that was plastered close to his chest, which in turn was beaded with sweat from the humid air of midsummer. His loose Bermuda shorts were navy blue. He’d cut his hair since the mission that brought everyone back, but the blonde strands were still unruly, stuck to the sides of his face. 

You thought he was going to scold you for being up so late, but instead he sat next to you on the swing. “Today went well,” you said, taking his hand. 

“Until we ran out of sausages,” Steve replied. “I thought there was going to be a riot.”

You laughed and felt a broad hand slip over yours. “How are you feeling?” you asked. 

He twisted his lip into a skeptical frown, unsure of how to respond. “I knew Tony had something crazy in mind when he called. I didn’t think it was going to bring everyone back, I just thought…well…if I had known…”

“That’s not what I asked,” you said, “And don’t you dare say you regret it.”

“I don’t,” he insisted quickly. “It’s just getting a bit uncomfortable for me. I feel like Alice and I are the middlemen in this whole thing. She’s taking it like the champ she always has been, but me…I don’t have answers, and I don’t like that.”

You took a slow breath in, smelling the combination of Steve’s leftover cologne from the day as it mixed with the summer staple of freshly-mown grass. 

“I wish I had something to say,” you finally mumbled. “I just want you to know that I can’t see myself picking between either of you. Steve, I love you, and you know that’s not changed.”

“You love me less now that Bucky’s back,” he accused. 

“He’s my husband!”

“So am I, or I was going to be!”

You felt yourself suddenly begin to cry, and Steve immediately stood down. “Oh no, I can’t…that was wrong of me to raise my voice, I’m so sorry!”

You leaned into his shoulder when he put his left arm around you: something Bucky couldn’t exactly do. “It’s ok, this is going to be a hard summer for all of us.” 

“There’s got to be a way.” Steve sounded unsure, but hopeful yet. 

For a moment, the pair of you absorbed the silence. The night air’s delicate ambience made the street feel bigger than it was, every little shifting stone and footstep echoed down the lane. Then, something broke the tranquility: you could vaguely hear Bucky’s deep snores coming from the bedroom window. It took a lot for either of you not to laugh. 

“Who would win in a fight: the Winter Soldier or sleep apnea?” Steve whispered. You had to slap your hand over your mouth to keep from squeaking. 

You went back to your quiet moment, but then another idea crossed your mind. “Alice said she likes Annie for a name, right?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t.”

“I think I’m changing my mind,” you confessed with a soft smile. “I don't know. Now that I’ve been saying it to myself out loud, it’s starting to fit. Annie…Annie Lynn.”

Steve kissed your forehead. “I think it’s perfect.” 

It took Steve about three weeks, but after Bucky began attending his group sessions, he was able to get a job doing the same work Steve was doing, but in a part-time capacity. Bucky was always more of an evening person, and Steve rose with the sun, so eventually everyone in the house developed a rhythm so that you were never alone. 

Besides the added household income, the time the men had together was worth its weight in gold for one big reason: it gave them time apart from you to work on ironing out the ill will both held for one another deep down. As August approached, both Bucky and Steve had gotten out the worst of their mutual resentment, thanks in no small part to the therapy sessions on-demand. 

On the last night of July, they’d reached a milestone and gone out for a late dinner with one another after work. Woodstock only had a few options that were within a couple of miles from home, but the local pub was the best place for two famous faces to have a basket of fries and a few pints of beer without being noticed (even if they couldn’t get a buzz from the alcohol). 

Between bites of double-cheeseburger (for Bucky) and steak (for Steve), they remarked about how it almost felt like old times. Old, old times. 

“You know, back in Brooklyn, you couldn’t finish half of one of those,” Bucky remarked, indicating the nearly-finished t-bone in front of his best friend. “Hell, most of them were bigger than you were.”

“Well, from what I can remember, you didn’t exactly get many dates from winning that hot dog-eating contest at Chubby’s on 48th street. Remember that?” Steve smiled. 

A crumb nearly fell graceless out of Bucky’s mouth when he laughed. “Oh do I ever! What’s in those? I couldn’t shit for a week after that!”

Steve almost choked on a piece of steak. Bucky laughed for him, the rare moment of Captain America being normal and flawed adding more humor to the scene. “Now, don’t go telling me to watch my language.”

“It’s okay,” Steve said casually once he was able to recompose himself. “Over the past few years, I’ve come to terms with cuss words. You may not believe this, but…” he leaned in, beckoning Bucky to do the same, as if some great secret was about to be revealed, “...I occasionally drop the a-word myself these days.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “A-word? You mean…ass?”

Steve nodded, leaning back against his chair, looking cool and proud of himself. “Yeah. Who’d have thought!”

“You’re a wild one, Steve.”

Another awkward moment of silence fell between them. Bucky observed how different Steve was, even from just a few years ago. In spite of the super serum in his blood, he looked older than five years’ progression would normally seem. He had the beginnings of crow’s feet around the corners of his eyes. His hair, normally a yellow blonde, was a little duller in color. His posture gave the silhouette of a man who worked too hard for everyone but himself. 

“Hey Steve…do you think…if neither of us wants to give her up…we could all just stay this way?” Bucky asked, a hint of shyness in his voice. 

“Don’t you think whoever she doesn’t stay with will feel like a third wheel?” asked Steve, clearly skeptical of the idea. 

“Maybe we don’t make her pick, is what I’m saying?” Bucky suggested, an uncharacteristic modesty turning his face pink at the thought. “If we both love her, and she and her girls both love us, why should we fight it? Times are different, no one around here would care.”

“James--”

“--and if I have to share Nightingale with anyone, it can’t be anyone but you, I guess,” Bucky went on, the idea snowballing in his head as he planned it out orally, “I don’t think I’d be jealous of you and her, Steve. The more I think about it, the more I just want her back in any way I can have her. I hope you feel the same way.” 

Steve looked horrified. “Bucky, that’s too much to ask.”

“Of who, Steve? You?” Bucky’s face fell, but the defensiveness within him that whole governments feared began to grow his eyes. “Because that’s who this has been about this whole time, right? The one whose fault this all is in the first place!” 

“Don’t you DARE twist my words! You know who I am!”

Bucky knew this would be coming the moment he suggested becoming a throuple, but he’d hoped he was wrong.  “You would rather make her tear her heart in half than try something unconventional?” 

“I’d rather raise my daughter in the best possible environment when she gets here,” Steve responded, unwavering. 

“I thought Alice was ‘your daughter’?” Bucky said, his voice questioning and mocking at once. “If you can stop loving her so quickly, maybe you should--”

Steve angrily got to his feet, grabbing the collar of Bucky’s black polo and yanking him to his feet, his eyes full of fire. “If you ever suggest that I don’t love every single girl in that house, then I’ll--”

Suddenly, Steve’s phone began vibrating madly on the table. He glimpsed down, seeing it was your number. He took a deep breath and let go of Bucky before either of them could get violent. “Yeah babe?” he greeted. 

It wasn’t you on the other end. 

“Uncle Steve?” asked Alice, her voice unsteady. 

“Sweetie! Ally, what’s wrong?” Bucky’s ears perked up as a look of pure worry replaced the one of defensive anger. 

“Mommy’s hurting a lot.”

“Oh, Ally, what’s she doing right now?” asked Steve. While Alice answered, he silently motioned for Bucky to go grab a waiter. Bucky refused to move. 

“She’s trying to be strong but I think there’s blood…” Alice’s voice certainly indicated she was on the verge of tears herself. 

Steve bit his lip. “Alice, don't be scared, be strong for Mommy because she needs our help, okay? Now, do you remember how to call 9-1-1 and give them our address?”

“I did it first. They’re coming.” He could already begin to hear sirens in the background of the receiver. Alice was smart as a whip.

“That’s my girl! Can you do Uncle Steve and Daddy a favor?”

“Yes.”

“Stay with Mommy, make her feel as safe as you can, do anything she says, and tell the ambulance to take her to the hospital. Daddy and I will meet you both there.”

“Yes.”

“Mommy’s going to be alright, sweetie.”

“Okay.”

“I love you,” Steve said softly, his face going hot with fear. 

“I love you too Da--Uncle Steve,” Alice said, hanging up immediately after. 

“What is it? Nightingale!” Bucky said, his plump lower lip trembling. 

“Something’s really wrong,” Steve said. “We have to go, right now!”

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