#earl grey loki

[rootedincuteness]

Question for Loki. Why are teacup demons called teacup demons?

Loki: “Hi! I’m glad you asked. You see... most demons are huge! We’re talking at least as big as a house. Or, if you want to get really huge, you can start getting into Cthulhu sizes. So my size is... considered pretty teeny. Hence being called a teacup demon. The implication there is that I’m so tiny, I fit inside a teacup!”

Mog: “But that isn’t entirely true, is it?”

Loki: “Hmm?”

Mog: “You cannot really fit into a teacup. You’re too big.”

Loki: “I can do anything I set my mind to.”

Mog: “Well, as it happens, I’ve got a teacup right here. Perhaps we ought to test your theory.”

Loki: “Certainly, my tea-loving friend!”

Mog: “I... I don’t think you fit...”

Loki: “Nonsense, it’s just about finding the right sitting position...”

Mog: “Oh dear...”

Loki: “Almost got it...!”

Loki: “There! This is actually pretty comfortable. Kindof like demon yoga! My back feels amazing.”

Mog: “...”

Loki: “The point is... I fit.”

Mog: “I will have to be certain to wash that cup...”

#loki the teacup demon #mog fuzzybottom III the earl of grey #friends of mudpie #ask the roots & 'shrooms gang

[five-miles-over]

For All Time, It Was Always You

Chapter 2: Mrs. Laufeyson

A/N: Thank you everyone for all of your positive comments! I really appreciate it, and hope you'll like this little continuation from the suburbs AU inspired partly by Wandavision.

Summary: After Loki leaves for work, you explore your new house and try to fit in with this world that feels too perfect to be real.

Pairing: Loki x Wife!Reader

Warnings: None really. Talk about 'traditional' gender roles. A surprise cameo. And silliness.

You waved goodbye, standing at the doorway as a black Chevrolet Bel Air departed from the house with Loki in the driver's seat. And like the doting wife that he thought you were, you blew a kiss in his direction.

When the car disappeared from your line of sight, you meandered into the sea green kitchen and filled a steel kettle with water, letting it sit on the stove the way a hen sat on her eggs. While the kettle grew hot, you searched the cabinets for tea bags,…and anything else that might help you understand this new, suburban world. A world in which you were the newlywed wife of a TVA employee who shared a name with the Norse God of Mischief. 

Next to a box of Earl Grey Tea was an entire section of the cabinet dedicated to biscuits of various brands and flavors: chocolate Hobnobs, Jaffa cakes, McVitie's digestive biscuits, shortbread, Bourbon cookies, and Oreos. At least three, unopened tubes of Oreo cookies. Were all of these sweet treats for you, or for your - you couldn't believe you were actually using this word - husband?

With a shrug, you grabbed a tube of the Oreo cookies, ripped it open and started eating them one by one. Holding the blue wrapper in one hand, you continued searching through the other kitchen cabinets. 

You found nothing but flour, brown sugar, white sugar, spices, marmite, extra virgin olive oil…, and two jars of strawberry jam from the same brand for some reason. And then, something next to a box of spaghetti caught your eye. A cookbook, with various pages dog-eared, titled Delicious Recipes For All Time, Always.

You blinked, carefully taking the book from the shelf. For All Time, Always? That's a weird title to call a cookbook…, a vague title as well. Inside the cover was a handwritten note, scribbled in blue pen.

The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Congratulations on the wedding, Mrs. Laufeyson! Loki's a lucky guy.

-Mobius M. Mobius

So that's who Loki was talking about at breakfast. He mentioned cancelling plans with someone named 'Mobius'. Someone who was making him watch tedious videos at work today. 

Jumping to the dog-eared pages of the cookbook, you came across various recipes: poached eggs, blueberry pancakes, macaroni and cheese, spaghetti bolognese, green bean casserole, Cumberbatch pie, curried chickpeas in coconut milk, angel food cake with strawberries and cream, chocolate mayonnaise cake…

Whiiiiiiieeee!

You whipped your head over your shoulder and immediately silenced the kettle's whistle, turning off the stove. Damnit, you went looking for tea bags and found yourself exploring everything except tea bags. Shaking your head, you shoved an Oreo into your mouth and opened the box of Earl Grey tea bags. 

Then, you opened a cabinet filled with plates, bowls, and cups, grabbing a white ceramic mug for your tea bag. On the top shelf of the cabinet was a pastel blue gift box. While the tea bag steeped in hot water, you reached for the box using a chair as a makeshift stepping stool. Inside the gift box were two mugs labeled 'Mr.' and 'Mrs.' in gold calligraphy And like the cookbook, there was a handwritten note as well. 

For all the mornings you'll have together. Congratulations to you both, Mr. and Mrs. Laufeyson! May the years ahead be filled with lasting love and happiness.

-Jeremy, Joyce, and Bill Hazeldine

With a gasp, you quickly closed the box and put it back on the shelf…only to open the box, taking another peek at the note. Mrs. Laufeyson...you underlined those words with your fingertip. Taking a deep breath, you put the box back on the shelf for good, promising to never use those mugs unless you were with Loki. 

By this point, the tea was hot enough to be enjoyed but not scalding that it would burn your throat. You took a sip, relaxing in its warmth, holding the mug with both hands. "Mrs. Laufeyson", you repeated to yourself. You looked down at your left hand, the emerald ring still on your middle finger just the same way it was this morning. 

After you finished drinking your tea and scarfing down the rest of the Oreo cookies in the container, you wandered into the living room. It was just across from the kitchen, a pastel yellow room with white bookshelves containing all kinds of hardcover and paper cover works. One would probably need an entire decade just to finish reading all the books kept inside the living room. You tilted your head and wondered which of the books were your husband's choice. But before you could sit down on one of the couches, you heard the doorbell ring.

"Who is it?" You asked, fixing your hair. 

A light, female voice came from outside. "It's Joyce!" As you made your way to the front door, you caught a glimpse of yourself in mirror hanging in the hallway. Your hair was miraculously styled, and you were wearing a cute set of pajamas…It almost made you stand still for a moment just so you could admire how desirable you looked. No wonder your husband was so lovey-dovey this morning.

The doorbell rang again. Putting on your best smile, you dragged your feet towards the door and opened it. 

Standing outside was a thin, middle-aged woman -presumably Joyce - with a bowl cut hairstyle, wearing a light blue shirt and straight-leg jeans. "Oh hello, dear. So good to see you again!" She gave you a warm smile and a hug, rocking you in her arms.

"Good to see you too, Joyce." You politely reciprocated her hug and let out a small laugh. "Thank you again for the mugs, they're lovely."

Joyce placed her hands on your arms for a moment, looking up at you. "I haven't seen you both since you came back from your honeymoon. Oh, look at you…" She marveled, "Married life seems to be treating you well."

"Thank you so much," you looked down, deciding to be as demure as possible, hoping they wouldn't ask too many questions about the honeymoon. "I…I couldn't be happier, Loki is so sweet to me." When your eyes met Joyce's, you touched the back of your neck. "I…He makes me feel like the luckiest lady in the world, Joyce."

Joyce quietly laughed with you. "You remember my son Bill, right?" Towering over Joyce was a lanky teenage boy with golden curls, blue eyes, and the face of an angel. He wore a grey t-shirt, worn-out jeans, and beat-up sneakers. 

You reached out to shake his hand. "Of course I do," you lied. "Hi, Bill."

"Afternoon, Mrs. Laufeyson." Bill greeted you with a smile that could make London light up during a blackout. "Congratulations again."

"Thank you." You placed your left hand on your heart, showing off your wedding ring just a little. "How are you, Bill?"

"I'm alright, thank you." Bill nodded. "I've been working with the church, teaching Sunday school. Thought it'd be a nice way to spend my summer after my first year of college."

"That's very thoughtful of you."

"Thank you. I thought it would be good for my theology course to do something like that," Bill admitted before reaching into one of his jean pockets, procuring a small blue velvet box. "Actually, I have something for you, Mrs. Laufeyson." 

You covered your mouth in disbelief. "Oh, Bill…"

"Please, take it." He extended the box to you. "I bought it for my former-girlfriend Jewel." Blinking, you gingerly accepted it, running your finger along the lid. "Former girlfriend…You broke up with her?"

Joyce intervened, "He had to do it, dear. She was nothing but trouble."

"I'm so sorry."

 "No, I'm sorry." Bill shook his head. "I bought it for her a long time ago, but I suppose it was never meant to last. But, I really want to give it to someone. Please, consider it a belated wedding gift, Mrs. Laufeyson."

You smiled, opening the box to find a sterling silver bracelet. Simple, yet elegant. "Thank you, Bill. I'll treasure it. If you ever want to talk, or just stop by for some tea, the door will always be open for you."

"Thanks, Mrs. Laufeyson," he graciously said. "And I hope Jewel finds someone else who'll make her happy."

The three of you stood quietly outside your house before you spoke up. "Joyce, would you and Bill like to come inside for some tea?"

"Not today, dear. I'm so sorry, Bill's coming with me to do some errands. And I'm sure you might need to catch up on some sleep after such a busy honeymoon." Joyce teased you a little with the last bit. "Might only be a matter of time before you and Loki get a visit from the stork."

You laughed, looking down again. You remembered how Loki hugged you from behind this morning and teased you with the idea of "finishing what you started on the honeymoon". Almost instinctively, your free hand rested on your stomach.

"We should have dinner sometime, Loki and I would love to have you over, we can catch up," you blurted. Joyce enthusiastically agreed and said she and her husband would love that.

"Tomorrow night," Joyce promised. "Would seven-thirty be alright?"

"Absolutely!" You nodded, already imagining how to tell Loki when he came home from work. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"See you tomorrow." Joyce and Bill waved goodbye as they climbed into their car and drove off. 

Something ached inside you as you watched them drive off, maybe because it reminded you of the way that Loki drove off this morning while you stood at the doorway waving goodbye. As you closed the door once again, you pondered over going out tomorrow, even if it was just something as small as a mid-morning stroll while Loki was out. But for now, there were other things that needed to be done.

Tagging: @anukulee @smolvenger @pineappleandro @lotsoflokilove23 @talklokitome @rumin8ting @12-pm-510 @painedfever @iambetterthanbefore @princess-ofthe-pages @thenotoriouserg @lokischambermaid @lokiismineforever @lokidbadguy @lokisgoodgirl @lokisprettygirl22 @holdmytesseract @wheredafandomat @wolfsmom1 @lovelysizzlingbluebird @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @icytrickster17 @thatdummy-girl @fantasyfan4life @huntress-artemiss @itsdoni @gruftiela @ellooo0ooo @ireallyneedtherapy @jennyggggrrr @turniptitaness @lokiforever

#loki #marvel loki #loki god of mischief #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki of asgard #mcu loki #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader fic

[literatureatthebowofnails]

AN: I've really enjoyed writing this series. I'm deeply appreciative of all the feedback and reblogs. They've fueled my writing and truly made me thankful for each and every one of you.

Series masterlist

Summary: Our darling couple take the first step toward the rest of their lives

It's a cold November morning and once again FRIDAY is calling your name, dragging you from your precious sleep.

"Nooo," you grumble, nuzzling into Loki's chest and tugging the fur comforter over your head. It collides with his nose.

He snorts, pulling it back below his chin. "I'll take it from here, FRIDAY.

"Darling, you do need to get up." He shifts beneath you.

"No," you whine, your voice muffled by the blanket. "I want to stay like this forever." You reach your arm over his bare chest, squeezing it for emphasis.

"As much as I'd enjoy that," he chuckles, "your absence downstairs could cause significant upheaval. Not to mention the breakdown of our fearless leader.

"You weren't here when he went on his feeble-minded caffeine fast. There are beings in Niflhel far more pleasant than our dear Captain without his 'morning Joe.'"

"But you're warm, and...you smell good, and...and...I love you," you say between yawns, before peaking up at him with a pout.

"I love you too," he smiles and gives your forehead a peck. "That doesn't change the fact that it's Monday and you have to go to work."

You throw off the blankets with a dramatic huff. "Fiiine. I hate it when you're right."

Loki chuckles and grabs a robe as he stands, handing another to you.

☕

First things first when you get in the elevator. "FRIDAY, please preheat the ovens for kolaches and turnovers, then check the A-Team agenda and load orders for whoever's on call to the POS."

You can't fault Tony's design; two separate confection ovens, freezer and refrigerator on a vertical conveyor. The contraption stands in the back of your circular kiosk cafe along with a cooling/rising rack, sink, employee entrance, and ample counter space.

Nearest the lobby doors sit the POS station, espresso machines, grab&go fridge, and pastry display. In addition to base cabinets, there's bulk storage accessible via elevator to the garage level. With a voice command to FRIDAY, a central circle in the floor descends while a safety barrier ascends into the workspace.

Plenty of square footage for three people, and on a Monday you need all the help you can get.

Chrysa clocks in with a muttered "Morning" as you're reviewing the Avengers' order:

Medium red eye, black - 'Nat's home from her mission and there's a morning debrief.'

Large dark roast with a shot of DynaPep - 'Tony, apparently trying to kill himself after a night of post-mission "tinkering."'

Extra large cup of Joe, extra cream and an order of mixed pastries - 'Steve got his run in and feels guilty about the early debrief.'

Small cocoa with cinnamon and extra whip - 'Peter's going to be late for school. Really, Steve needs to put that kid's education first.'

Medium Dutch apple pie a la mode latte - 'Thor, making his way through the seasonal menu.'

Extra large dirty chai - 'Scott just got into town.'

You notice a distinct lack of Earl Grey with excessive honey - 'Loki went back to bed. Dick.'

The next few hours are busy, as to be expected. They have you, Chrysa and Dementy rushing around, baking, steaming, and ringing up customers as quickly as possible.

Things begin to slow by 9:30, and around 10 Wanda wanders down in sweats and clogs, a maroon hoodie covering her unbrushed hair.

You start on her turek as soon as you see her. "Hey, what would you like for breakfast? And weren't you supposed to be at the debrief this morning?"

"Hmm...a pumpkin muffin," she smirks. "I popped my head out, told the kid to keep his mouth shut, and bewitched Steve to think I was there before going back to bed.

"I'm not getting up after three hours sleep just to tell Steve everything went as planned."

"What about Nat and Tony?" you ask.

"Stark sent Mark 93 and Nat doesn't sleep half the time anyway."

☕

Wednesday afternoon finds you at a boutique with Nat, Wanda, and Hope, who's visiting for the annual gala. The latter, focused as always, has chosen six sleek, black, barely differentiated dresses and hovers with them hanging over her shoulder while the rest of you decide.

"I can't believe it's been a year since we met," you say as you hold a one-shoulder gown against yourself in the mirror.

"You should try that one on," Nat says, her sultry voice soft but insistent. "It has been a year, hasn't it? So this is a particularly special gala. Is that why you're only looking at dresses in Loki's colors?"

You grin down at the gold taffeta. "Partially. It's more a feeling he's going to do something especially dramatic? I don't know what, exactly, but I haven't seen him this cagy since my birthday. He sent half the people in Times Square to his pocket dimension because I turned down the street before the flash mob was in place."

Wanda snickers.

"You're kidding!" says Hope.

"No," Nat replies, "There was a huge fallout when Steve got back from his 'emergency mission.' Something about 'We don't know if pocket dimensions are safe for humans...that's abduction...what if someone had gotten hurt?!'"

"And don't forget," adds Wanna, "'If you're so concerned, Rogers, I'm happy to send you in there to create safety protocols. We could all use the break from your incessant nagging.'"

☕

You were going to spend Saturday lounging around the flat until you needed to get ready, but Wanda had different plans. She insisted you and the rest of the girls all have a spa day. Thus, in the late afternoon you're stepping off the elevator on your floor with goodbyes to Nat, Shuri, Wanda, Hope and Pepper.

You open the door to find Loki already dressed and pacing nervously in the front room. His curls are raked in lines from the many times he's run his fingers along his scalp. "Loki?" you say. He freezes like a child caught sneaking candy, a hand shooting to his breast pocket before he takes a breath to steady himself. "Is everything ok?"

"Yes," he attempts a carefree smile. "Of course, darling, everything is wonderful. I...uh, I was just concerned you might not make it back in time to get ready."

You raise an eyebrow, amused by his ironically poor lie. "You do realize we don't have to be downstairs for another two hours, right?" Cupping his cheeks, you pull him down to kiss him. "Whatever it is you're so nervous about, I promise it will be ok. God or not, no one is perfect, and I'm not going anywhere."

He calms a bit. "Right. Well, I'm just going to, ah, see if Stark needs any help getting things organized." He checks his pocket again before rushing out the door.

You do your hair and makeup, wandering around the bedroom in only shoes and panties as your gown simply isn't bra-friendly. You're unhooking the dress from its hanger when hear the front door open.

"Great timing," you call out. "I'm going to need help with this zipper."

Loki enters the room. "Ravishing as always, darling," he grins at your bare chest. "I could help with a lot more than your zipper, you know."

"Says the god who was worried we'd be late?" You smirk.

"Right," he chuckles. "Let's get you into that so I can get you out of it later."

☕

The event space is nearly unrecognizable; Tony's modern minimalism nowhere to be seen.

The chrome columns are covered in black silk, green velvet held against them in sandglass form by thick gold cords. Grand chandeliers twinkle from the high ceilings, alight with five thousand candle flames. A brass quintet sits atop a raised stage opposite the bar, the dance floor spread between them.

"You weren't kidding when you said you'd help Stark," you smile, nodding at the decor. "It's very you." Standing on your toes, you give his cheek a peck.

"Thank you," he takes a steadying breath. "Shall we, er, have a drink? Perhaps some appetizers? Oh look! There's T'Challa and Shuri catching up with my brother. Why don't you join them while I find us sustenance."

You wander over to the group, letting your anxious lover gather food. "Hey," you greet, lightly grazing Shuri's shoulder as you siddle between her and T'Challa.

The king greets you with a tight hug. "It has been far too long. You have to come visit us in Wakanda.

"Okoye keeps talking about getting a Starbucks, but I told her there's better coffee to be had from international sources."

Thor lights up as his brother joins the group, handing you a cocktail and a plate of hors d'oeuvres. "Are you ready?" he asks Loki, a shiteating grin on his face.

"Will you desist?!" Loki says through gritted teeth, attempting to surreptitiously stomp on his brother's toes.

You pop a stuffed mushroom in your mouth and pretend not to notice while you listen to Shuri describe her latest invention. As your discussion of the device begins to dwindle, you hear the opening notes of a familiar waltz.

Loki clears his throat, his hand extended. "May I?"

You take it and he leads you to the dance floor. You can't take your eyes off him. His floor craft is perfection as together you dance smoothly through the other couples.

You know not just the steps, but how he'll take them, making reflexive shifts in your footwork to blend precisely into his.

His hands are comforting as he holds you, his natural scent like burning pine and fresh snow. His vibrant green eyes are full of awe of you and the glowing adoration reflected on your face.

When the song ends, he spins you to the center of the dancefloor. Your skirt settles and you find him kneeling as he holds your hand and a stunning emerald ring.

"Darling," he looks at you with batted breath. "Will you do me the honor of being my princess?"

"Loki, oh my god! Yes, yes, of course I will. Nothing could make me happier!" As soon as he slips the ring on, you pull him into a fervent kiss and the band strikes up the wedding march. You know that wherever you are, so long as you're with him, you'll be home.

Taglist:

@peaches1958 @javagirl328, @loopsisloops, @goblingirlsarah, @buttercupcookies-blog @cakesandtom , @ladymischief11 , @km-ffluv , @coldnique , @glitterylokislut , @eleniblue , @lokiprompts , @lokisgoodgirl , @muddyorbsblr , @princess-ofthe-pages @jennyggggrrr

Let me know if you wish to be added or removed

Thank you all so much for joining me on this journey. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Now that it's complete, I'll be focusing on party asks. I hope you all take some time to join us and participate in this event! All my love 💗

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki #loki smut #loki odinson #loki x you #loki x female reader #fic rec #loki/reader #14 doses of delirium drabble series #my writing

[afrogirl3005]

"I've Got you " A Loki drabble ✨Flufftober 2023✨

My first flufftober post of the season. enjoy :).

Loki x Plus Size Reader

Hurt/fluff

Loki, a lone ranger in the sea of time. He’s a broken man after witnessing the horrors of the TVA. he knows that your timeline, your home is somewhere he can go for comfort. Zipping through time to get to your place of solace. He takes a deep breath before knocking on your door, afraid that you might shun him away like life has always done to him. He knocks, you answer. “Hello darling, I have been through the most taxing of journeys through the multiverse and I was hoping to enter your home.” you are taking in his towering form. you utter a calm “well sure, you’re looking a little worse for wear after all.” you take his hand as you lead him to the comfiest chair in your house. “Would you like some tea?” you ask him “yes my dear that would be lovely :)” you get started as he tries so desperately to relax in your chair. You hand him the cup of earl grey, he beckons you to sit in his lap. In His mind all he thinks is how desperately he needs your warmth to engulf him. He‘s so overwhelmed with emotion that he starts to tear up, breaking down on in your arms lamenting over the life that he so severely wanted and the death that came from his mischievous endeavor to save his brother. The world's he had traveled avoiding kang the conqueror had taken a toll on him. He sobs deep into your shoulder. “Hey I’ve got you.” You stroke his black hair that to you shined so brightly “just fall into me, I’ll catch you.” he looks up at you through tears and lashes. He sobs “ I don’t remember.. I don’t know what I’d do without your love.” You kiss his forehead and pull him towards your chest knowing that he’d be gone the next day, you started to cry with him. But for now you both hold each other and you never leave him for that night.

#loki x you #loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki series #loki season 2 #mcu loki #x plus size reader #x black reader #fanfiction #reblog #marvel fanfiction #faniction #black reader #marvel #loki marvel #loki s01 #thor #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel characters #fanfic #flufftober2023 #fluff #drabble #one shot #established relationship #kinda sorta #first fic of the month

[natrogersfics]

PREVIEW - Game Plan: Chapter 9

Artwork by @faith2nyc Catch up on Chapters 1-8 

There’s something about the air in London that makes Natasha crave tea. She couldn’t exactly prove it, but as she fills her mug with freshly boiled water, she can’t help but give the theory some credence. Coffee has been her caffeine fix of choice for as long as she can recall. She does not dare go a day without it, and yet, every time she finds herself across the pond, she catches herself reaching for a nice cup of Earl Grey instead.

“I’ll make a tea drinker out of you yet.”

“It’s either this or the swill in your cupboard also known as instant coffee,” she retorts without looking back as she plunges the tea bag into the mug, letting it steep. “Seriously, why even bother keeping any?”

“Mobius keeps it around for when he’s desperate.”  

With her drink in hand, she turns to find Loki standing by the doorway of his kitchen, a sleeping puppy nestled securely in his arms. “That man is a glutton for punishment.”

“Oh, you’ve no idea,” Loki says with a wiggle of his eyebrows, prompting her to chuckle as she makes her way over to them.

“Good morning, Fenrir,” she coos, running her free hand over the dog’s shiny black fur. Loki, ever the clean freak, hadn’t been too happy when his sister had dropped Fenrir off at his place yesterday, citing a work emergency that she needed to attend to. Taking in the current scene, though, one would never have guessed that her friend had spent the entire day complaining about having to pick up after the pup. She looks back at Loki, smirking. “I told you you’d eventually fall in love.”

Loki scoffs. “I believe that’s the same thing I said about your new hair color.”

As if on reflex, she reaches for the tail end of her now very blonde braid. Yelena had barely left her apartment when she received a phone call from Loki asking her what time her flight was arriving. He hadn’t bothered to ask her how she was doing or for clarification on the news articles she knows he’s seen circulating online, and she knew it’s because he already knew the answer to those. And while she had insisted that there was no need for her to fly out, Loki was having none of it. Either he would fly out or she would, but one thing was for certain, he wasn’t going to allow her to be alone during her leave. Despite her best efforts to persuade him otherwise, she knew there wasn’t any use in arguing with Loki when he was as determined as he was in that moment, and by the next day, she found herself on the redeye to London and walking straight into Loki’s awaiting arms upon landing in Heathrow.

That was nearly a week ago. Since then, there’s been seemingly bottomless bottles of Bordeaux, midnight baking, trips to the spa, and endless shenanigans that’s been nothing short of a salve for her soul. It was on her fourth day when she was accompanying Loki to get a trim when the receptionist had asked if she herself wanted anything done. Perhaps it was from the energy of being away from all of her woes and being digitally off the grid (Loki had taken her phone from her when she landed), but before she could give it too much thought, she found herself nodding and being led to the seat next to Loki.

If she’s being honest, she hadn’t put too much thought into what she wanted done. The only thing she knew was that she wanted a change, and between her hair having always been a fiery scarlet and her having already experimented with jet black box dye in college, bleaching it felt like the natural option. Nevertheless, as the foils were stripped away from her head later on to reveal her newly golden locks, she didn’t miss the slight wave of unease that permeated through her at the sight.

Not that she had permitted herself to flounder in the emotion for long. With a sigh, she had quashed the feeling as quickly as it had come. Change, as unsettling as it can be at times, is the only constant in the world. That’s what she had told Yelena not so long ago. And with that reminder, by the time the stylist had finished washing and running each section of her hair through a dryer and a roller brush, she found herself at peace with her decision.

“I wouldn’t say I’m in love with it,” she says. “It’s definitely growing on me, though.”

“Then I echo that sentiment when it comes to this mongrel.”

“Did you or did you not let him sleep in your bed last night?”  

“I needed something to keep me warm while Mobius is away,” Loki says, sighing in concession when she shoots him a withering glare. “Fine! Him, I like.” He reaches over to pet Fenrir between the ears, the dog all but melting into his touch. “His owner, on the other hand, leaves much to be desired.”

“Hela is not that bad,” she reasons.

“Isn’t she?” Loki challenges. “She’s high-maintenance, full of herself-”

“How many conditioning treatments do you have in your shower again?” she asks, biting back an amused smile. Despite Loki’s harsh words for his twin sister, she knows that in his heart of hearts, he does not truly mean them. If Loki’s smarting at the moment, it’s only because Hela had gone from being the publicist for the club rivaling Loki’s to being the publicist for the entire Premier League within the last year. And, in the good name of sibling rivalry, Hela has taken every opportunity since to remind Loki of her impressive feat.

“You told me that the tangerine one made your hair feel soft as silk,” Loki reminds her. The doorbell rings before she can respond, though, prompting him to make a face. “Speaking of.” He looks down at Fenrir in his arms. “I am truly sorry you have to go home with the devil incarnate.”

“Be nice,” she scolds, shaking her head as she follows him. Loki pulls the door open to reveal Hela, her long onyx hair falling like a glossy curtain around her face as she stands at the doorstep, looking ever the power executive that she is in a black pantsuit and green silk blouse.

“Fenrir!” Hela exclaims, reaching to take the dog from Loki’s arms. “Mummy missed you, my love!” She nuzzles the top of Fenrir’s head as she adds, “I’m terribly sorry I had to leave you in such modest dwellings.”

Loki’s voice rises a decibel. “Modest dwellings?”

“Hela, hey,” she interjects, handing Loki her mug as she steps between him and Hela and ignores the scowl the former directs at her. “How have you been?”

“Oh, just fabulous, darling,” Hela says as she leans forward to give her a kiss on each cheek. “A little tired, but I suppose it comes with the territory.” She shrugs. “The Premier League being the most competitive in Europe and all.”

“I’ll bet,” she says, smiling back at Hela even as she elbows Loki when she hears him mutter something unkosher over the rim of his mug.

“What about you?” Hela says. “What brings you to town?”

“Nothing really,” she says before nodding towards Loki. “This one had invited me to stay over, and since I had time off from work, I figured why not.”

“Are you still working for the Avengers?” Hela asks, to which she nods. “The allure of American football has honestly always evaded me, but from a business standpoint, I can’t help but admire the NFL’s reach and its penchant for being one hell of a profitable bastard.”

She chuckles quietly. “Allowing commercials during the game has its perks.”

Hela hums, her expression growing pensive for a second, before her emerald eyes suddenly light up. “Have you ever considered hosting an NFL game here in London?”

“Hela, Natasha is here on holiday,” Loki tells his sister sternly. “Let’s not ruin it with talk about work.”

“It’s fine, Loki,” she says, placing a hand on Loki’s arm before looking back at Hela. “Besides, as happy as I would be to help you out, Hela, I’m afraid making that kind of arrangement is way above my pay grade.” She shrugs. “I work for the Avengers, not the entire NFL.”

“Not yet, that is,” Hela says with a wink. “Besides, you wouldn’t need the entire league, just two teams. If you could get the Avengers to agree, that’s half the battle already won.”

“True,” she concedes, “let me see what the GM-”

“Though I suppose your Quarterback is finding himself in quite a pickle these days, isn’t he?” Hela says before she can even finish her sentence. “What, with his pregnant ex showing up out of the blue like that.”

“Hela,” Loki says, a veiled warning in his tone.

“Whatever strategy your PR team thinks they’re using to save him is absolute bollocks, by the way,” Hela says, ignoring Loki as her gaze moves towards her. “Between us publicists, what in the world is happening over there?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she says, keeping her tone even. “I’m strictly focused on the team’s PR now.”

“Well, that explains everything,” Hela says, shaking her head. “Frankly, if he has even the slightest interest in salvaging his image after all this, he should have just admitted to being the father from the very beginning instead of whatever it is he thinks he’s doing right now.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks at the same time Hela’s name falls pointedly from Loki’s lips again.

Hela eyes her and Loki, looking at them as though they’ve each grown another head as she takes in the confusion on their faces. “This morning’s pictures,” she says simply, shifting on her feet to settle a squirming Fenrir. “You know, the ones of him and… Peggy, is it? They’re coming out of what I assume is her prenatal appointment, hand in hand.” She scoffs. “I know everyone likes a happy ending, but for goodness’ sake, you just drove your team to a second consecutive loss and now you’re out frolicking with your ex without so much as an official statement?” Hela’s face twists with annoyance. “The optics, people!”

From her periphery, she catches the way Loki’s gaze shifts towards her, but she keeps her eyes on Hela as she shrugs. “I’m sure they have their reasons.”

“Just be glad he’s not your problem anymore,” Hela says before sighing. “Anyhow, Fenrir and I best get going.”

“Best idea you’ve had yet,” Loki says, eliciting a glare from Hela as he reaches for the doorknob.

“Oh, one last thing,” Hela says, peering over Loki’s shoulder as he lets out an exasperated sigh. “How long are you in town for?”

“I leave in two days,” she says.

“In that case, the League is having a charity event tonight. There’ll be drinks, dancing, an auction. Not to mention a parade of handsome lads.” Hela smiles. “I’d love to have you.”  

“Seriously?” Loki says, “Natasha didn’t fly all the way here to-”

“Actually, that sounds great,” she interjects, ignoring the surprised expression that makes its way onto Loki’s face. “Thanks, Hela.”

“Brilliant, I’ll have them add you to the guest list,” Hela says, her smile faltering as she turns to Loki. “I suppose you’re welcome to attend as well, dear brother. Assuming, of course, you don’t wear… whatever it is you’re wearing right now.”

“As if people will have time to dissect my sartorial choices when your face will be there!” Loki says, watching as Hela, practically cackling, retreats down his driveway. With a huff, he pushes the door shut and turns back to her. “Have you gone mad?”

“Like you didn’t want to go,” she says, her statement an accusation more than anything else as she recalls how he’s been complaining about Hela withholding his invitation to this very event – the same one that’s slated to have every executive in the League in attendance. Before her, Loki feigns indignance for another beat before sighing in concession, making her scoff. “So, are you going to drive me to get a dress or what?”

Loki purses his lips, as if to ponder her question. “We’re stopping for scones first, right?”  

“Obviously.”

#Romanogers #Game Plan #natrogers #preview #one night stand AU

[lokidokieokie]

Fic Recs

Hey guys! First off, I hope you had a happy holidays and a great New Year!

Soo sorry for the lack of fic rec list over the last few weeks; between getting food poisoning, going to work, going on a short holiday as well as Christmas and New Year, it's been pretty busy!

So, below the cut, please find my fic recommendations for the weeks of 12/12/2022 - 01/01/2023!

psst...there's a lot of them

Loki Laufeyson

Naughty or Nice by @muddyorbsblr​

Practice Makes Perfect | 1 | 2 | 3 by @simplyholl​

Yield to Me by @wheredafandomat​

Underneath the Christmas Tree by @holdmytesseract​

A Cool December Night by @lady-rose-moon​

Evergreen by @joyful-enchantress​

A Cozy Christmas by @holymultiplefandomsbatman​

The Greatest Showman by @lokisgoodgirl​

Mischief and Miracles by @mochie85​

Eggnog by @peachyjinx​

"Snow Bound" by @ijuststareatstuffhereok89

Sweet and Spicy by @coldnique

Loki's Little Secret | 1 | 2 | 3 by @vbecker10

Something Real by @ladylovesloki masterlist linked

A Clandestine Christmas by @lokisgoodgirl

Sweeter than Pralines by @fictive-sl0th

Lazy Morning by @wheredafandomat

The Joker and The Queen by @holdmytesseract

Man of the Month by @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr masterlist linked

All I Could Give You by @muddyorbsblr

Kintsugi by @mygfloki

Chocolates and Promises by @michelleleewise part 1 linked

Hostile F*cks Collection by @lokisgoodgirl

I'll Love You No Matter What by @kalinaselennespeaks

Game Night by @mcufan72

Have Some Tea by @kilikina34512

The Selection by @lady-rose-moon masterlist linked

Wicked Desires by @fictive-sl0th part 1 linked

The Christmas a God Came to Visit by @wheredafandomat

Admit It by @fluffyfantasticducky

The Mischievous Adventures of Lokitty by @michelleleewise masterlist linked

Merry Christmas! by @holdmytesseract

Yuletide Delights by @cake-writes

Full by @cake-writes

Panacea by @cake-writes

New Years Eve by @simplyholl

Loki's Di-Llama by @michelleleewise @xorpsbane

NYE @ Thors? by @wheredafandomat

Rescuing Thor: Loki and Ella's Misadventures by @psychospore

James Conrad

Dangerous Paradise by @holdmytesseract

Magnus Martinsson

Should We Tell Them? by @muddyorbsblr

Doctor Stephen Strange + his Variants

Boundless by @futureplayboibunnie

Like Real People Do by @dumpsterhippie

Christmas Time by @vickie-mcmuffin

The Anchor by @space-mermaid-writing masterlist linked

Gentle by @futureplayboibunnie

It Started With a Whisper by @whore4sherlockholmes

Everybody Talks by @writingliv

Wong, the Matchmaker by @pinkthick

Sherlock Holmes

It's Lovely, Isn't It by @feral-for-strange

Just an Experiment by @strangelockd

Beg for Forgiveness by @a-cup-of-earl-grey-please

I Love You by @strangelockd

Merry Christmas, Sherlock by @writingliv

Please show your support for these fabulous authors by commenting on and reblogging their posts!

See you all next week for your regularly scheduled programming!

#Ella's Fic Rec List #fic rec #fic recs #fic rec list #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #james conrad #james conrad x reader #magnus martinsson #magnus martinsson x reader #tom hiddleston #doctor strange #stephen strange #doctor strange x reader #sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock #sherlock x reader

[cha-melodius]

Fic Rec Friday

This week's theme: Rec a fic that starts with the same letter as your username (or, if you like, a part of your username) The rules: Tag a fic that starts with the same letter as your username and describe why it's so good / how it has a hold on you. Then tag some people to see what everyone else is reading. Spread the love! Also, she'll do the round up on Sunday, so if you're still recc-ing on Saturday, no pressure! Please tag @welcometololaland or tag #fic rec friday so she can compile the masterlist.

Thanks Lola and @rmd-writes for the tags. I'm also gonna cheat and give more than one per fandom because I actually sorted all the fics in my fandoms by title and went through all the C's, which was enlightening but also gave me too many options that I love. Narrowing it down to three or less was hard enough.

Red, White & Royal Blue

Cinnamon & Earl Grey by @everwitch-magiks This is actually a series of 100-word drabbles, one each week, that tell a complete outsider-POV story. I'm still in awe, especially since Evie didn't even know what the theme would be each week, but it still fits!

Come Fly With Me by politics_and_prose Super adorable airline passenger/flight attendant AU. The flirting is so on point.

Competent Guardians of Horny Little Miscreants by M0ssPiglet Amy POV! Missing canon scene. I am obsessed with Amy and Cash moaning about having to protect our two horny idiots. Someone give them a raise.

The Man from UNCLE (2015)

Careful of the Company You Keep by @alienfuckeronmain (objectlesson) Oh, the angst. This is one of my favorites dealing with the messiness of them getting together. I love how this deals with Napoleon’s past and relationship issues from Illya’s perspective.

Closer and closer by @heytheredeann (Elisexyz) OCTOPUS NAPOLEON RIGHTS. I'm not sure I need to say more. So soft and snuggly and lovely.

Loki (Series)

A can of josta by @jim-jam-gem A lovely little season 1 coda of Loki looking for Mobius, and he finally gets a hug!! 😭

Cold, Cold Heart by @amadness2method Country music AU! I just love the world that was built here. This is a WIP that hasn't been updated in a while, but well worth reading the 15 chapters that are already there (and if you see this, Cyn, I'd love to see more, but also know I love it as it stands 💕).

Tagging the above authors, and also @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @14carrotghoul, @xthelastknownsurvivorx, @three-drink-amy, @clottedcreamfudge, @orchidscript, @wolfpup026, @athousandrooms, @natendo-art, @celeritas2997, @cricketnationrise, and anyone else who sees this to join in. Share the love!!

#fic rec friday #fic recs #rwrb #firstprince #tmfu #napollya #lokius

[lokiprompts]

For your 1000 Follower Event: What if Loki - during one of his visits to Midgard - found himself swarmed by fans who kept calling him "Tom" and "Mr.Hiddleston"? And on top of that, if a small bakery offered Loki free cake(s)/pastries assuming that he was indeed "Mr.Hiddleston"?

Thank you so much for doing this!

Ahhh I loved this. It was so fun to write!! I tweaked it a bit and paired it with a request from @itsybitchylittlewitchy!! ENJOY THE CHAOS

Nailed it - Loki GN Reader

Summary: You try to bake a cake for Loki to impress him....but things don't go as planned. Who thought you could summon the undead with a cake recipe?!

Words: ~1300

Warnings: Just pure chaos.

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

“How did you manage this again, Darling?!” Loki spat out through gritted teeth; his back pressed against the door of your bakery kitchen as the creature behind it tried to break through. Your shoulder was pressed firmly against his in attempt to help keep the creature at bay, but you both knew his godly strength was doing the heavy lifting. There was a green, hazy glow emanating through the cracks of the door. If it wasn’t paired with threatening growls, you may have found it pretty.

“I was just trying to bake a cake!” You cried. The ridiculousness of the situation causing feelings of frustration and anxiety that brought tears to the corner of your eyes.

“So, you found a recipe and instead of a vanilla cake, you summoned an undead creature?! How does that happen?!”

It all started out so simply. Loki, the newly minted, albeit very reluctantly, Avenger practically crashed into your bakery after being chased by a swarm of screaming girls. Much to his dismay, and a giant bruise to his godly ego, they thought he was the actor, Tom Hiddleston. The very actor that played him in movies as a part of marketing and publicity ploy for the Avengers.

“Although he is quite dashing, I am not him.” He recanted the story back to you one day. Yet, the women didn’t believe him. It started with one adoring fan, pawing at his black Gucci suit with a glazed look over her eyes.

“Her eyes…they were empty, and she kept on repeating, ‘what in the Wattpad?’ and I kept on asking her, what the Hel a Wattpad was and she kept on repeating it. ‘What in the Wattpad, what in the Wattpad’! The woman was psychotic, I tell you.” The story was almost unbelievable, but this was one of the many insane stories he told you. It was just another Tuesday for the God of Mischief. Then more came, like a moth to a flame. Still chanting ‘What in the Wattpad’ until he was running for his life from nearly fifty screaming girls.

He took a sharp turn onto your street and then directly into your bakery. You recognized him as who he was, the God of Mischief, and the look of relief and sweet smile that he flashed you made your heart flutter. That day, he stuck around insisting he needed to ‘lay low’. You teasingly offered him refuge from his ‘fans’ in exchange for his taste testing services. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

But then he came back the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. All the while charming your pants off and spinning innuendos about your ‘sweet cream’ that made your face turn red. Of course, he loved to fluster you and you loved to be flustered. With him spending all this time at your bakery, relentlessly flirting with you, you started to consider that maybe he actually liked you. Like, like Liked. So, you wanted to bake him a special cake and ask him out officially on a date.

The whole thing was rather unusual. When you came into the bakery today, you found a recipe on the counter for the cake. Earl Grey cake with lavender infused frosting. It screamed Loki and you knew you had to make it for him. You had no idea where the recipe came from, but it didn’t matter. Just as you were finishing the final touches on the cake, you noticed a little poem at the bottom of the recipe. How fun!

“Magic forces, black and white, reaching out through space and light. Be he far or be he near, bring us the demon, Draugar here.” You paused, flipping the recipe over as the next thing said to garnish the cake with a sprig of lavender and lemon zest to taste.

“Huh.” You simply said with a little shrug and did as the recipe said, finishing your gorgeous cake with a proud smile.

But then the ground began to shake and at first, you thought it was an earthquake, but the smell, oh the smell told you it wasn’t. You covered your mouth and nose with your hand, thankful for the lingering lemony scent. The first thing you heard was a groan. You spun around on your heel and saw it. A decaying, grotesque zombie, swiping its boney finger into your prized cake and putting it to its peeled back lips.

“Asshole! That’s my cake!” You yelled out before you even realized what you were doing. When the zombie turned to you and started walking in your direction, you took off. There was no way in hell that you were dying in this horror film.  You weren’t a virgin. You had a hoe phase like everyone else. Can’t you have a good time and not die?! Just as you bolted out of your kitchen, your back pressed firmly against the door, your sweet prince came in.

“Darling, I am here for my daily tasting….” He saw your panting body sprawled across your kitchen door and furrowed his brows in concern, “What’s wrong?”

The decaying arm that managed to break through the cracks of the door was enough of an answer for him. He bolted over to your side, helping hold the door as you told him how you ended up in this crazy situation.

“It isn’t a vanilla cake! It is an Earl Gray cake with lavender infused frosting, Loki!” You corrected with the unbridled venom of an overzealous hipster. Why you were sacrificing yourself on this cake covered hill, when the dead was literally banging your door down – you had no idea.  

He rolled his eyes, but quickly refocused as the zombie on the other side of your door banged with more force, “Well, pardon me! If this thing wasn’t trying to eat us, I would almost be excited about it!”

Your body jolted forward again as the creature banged at the door, its stench making its way to your nostrils and making you gag, “You should! I made it for you to ask you out on a date, but NO. I get a freakin’ zombie in my kitchen!”

“You…what? A date?” Just as you were going to answer Loki, the zombie creature thing bust through the doors, sending you and Loki both flying across your store display case. You waited for the inevitable cracking of your skull on your discount laminate floor, but it never happened. Instead, strong arms had you cradled from the fall. Loki’s arms.

“Are you alright?” He asked you as his large hands brushed your hair out of your face, checking you for injuries.  You simply nodded, too flustered to even speak. Loki noticed of course and the little smirk he flashed you told you that he knew the affect he had on you.

“Bleeeaaaaarrghhhhh!” The decayed creature hissed out. It was coming around the corner of the display case, arms stretched out and groaning as it dragged its rotting flesh towards you and your prince.

“Norn’s, I’ve had enough of this!” Loki growled and took your off him. The fact that he easily moved you like you weighed nothing heating you up in the most inappropriate way, at the most inopportune time. Quickly, he stood to his feet, his tall frame towering over you from your place on the floor. Loki extended his hand and rambled off some words you guessed was an Asgardian incantation. A blast of green exploded from his palm and hit the creature directly in the chest.

“Merp?” The zombie exclaimed? Asked? Questioned? Before it exploded and covered your display case and seating area with rotting flesh.

With another swipe of his hand, the zombie was gone and the so was the mess. On an ordinary day, you may have wondered where his magic would put the obliterated body parts of an undead creature, but this was no ordinary day. And you weren’t going to question your now clean bakery.

Loki offered you his hand to help you up and you took it. Now, standing in front of him, almost chest to chest, he surprised you. He didn’t let go of your hand. Instead, he laced his fingers with yours.

“So, I believe you were going to ask me on a date?” He ended his question with a grin.

The cheeky bastard.

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

Unicorns 🦄: @theawkwardavenger @nonsensicalobsessions @purplekitten30 @lostgreekgod @roguemetalmaster13 @huntress-artemiss @midnights-ramblings @xorpsbane @ravenmailey @vbecker10 @lazulifoster @winterfrostsarmy @ada17h @lokisprettygirl22 @theaudacitytowrite @lokis-little-love @themorningsunshine @strawberry-canyon @howdidurhammergrowchris @michelleleewise @80strashbag @roseeatta @asgardianprincess1050 @jaspearl31 @ozymdias @vickie5446 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @kittiowolf210

#loki x you #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki #loki fic #loki x female reader #loki fluff #loki laufeyson x reader #loki fluffy drabble #loki laufeyson #loki angst #loki drabble #loki blurb #loki fanfiction #loki headcanon #loki imagine #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki laufeyson x you #loki oneshot #loki reader #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x gn!reader #loki x reader fluff

[goldencherriess]

Present time || Loki x Mortal! Fem! Reader

Pairing: Loki x Mortal! Fem! Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: Fate brings them together once again.

Warnings: fluff, emotional final scene (you have been warned!)

A/N: Here it is! The final chapter of Time after Time! Thank you to everyone who joined in the ride. It was wild and I hope you had fun as much as I did! Thanks for all the love and support you had showed this fic, it meant the world to me. And without further ado, have fun reading!

Previous part || Series masterlist

Rain was splattering against the workshop's window in thundering droplets and Y/N started scolding herself for forgetting her umbrella. The London weather was quite unpredictable, but she always carried her usual, red, polka dotted umbrella. "Always make sure you're equipped for the day, little one!" her father had said. But this time, it slipped from her mind.

Lately, her mind always seemed to be elsewhere, in the clouds or maybe in some long forgotten memories. She would drink a cup of Earl Grey and then stop abruptly, as if someone burned her with a stick on fire. Her gaze, then, would sink into the cup, looking for something but only finding her own reflection staring back. Other times, she'd wrap her red scarf around her neck, fingertips freezing in mid air, nose scrunched up. She'd lightly pick up the rear end of the scarf, as if she was seeing it for the first time.

And other times, she would be staring at nothing in particular, feeling something missing.

The thunderous droplets rained down on her like bullets as she fumbled with the keys, trying to lock her workshop. She had opened it a few years ago with only one sewing machine, a few fabrics and the knowledge of weaving ideas and textiles together. Les petites mains. The art of splattering creativity through a sewing needle.

With a click, the door was locked and she turned to look ahead, hair wet and clothes sticking to skin. Her red sneakers got soaked as they crossed a puddle. Y/N raised an arm in a poor attempt to hail a cab, but it just whizzed by, splashing her in a new wave of dirty, rainwater. Blinking through the silver drops, she took a step back, shivers running up and down her arms and spine. Of course a cab wouldn't take her like this, soaked from head to toe. A sneeze escaped her lips and she cursed the weather, pulling the coat closer to her body. She'd have to take the tube all the way home. Joy.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

They called it the London underground. Cold air ruffling your clothes when a train whizzed by or stopped in the station. People milling around, stressed with their eyes in the phone or legs jittering.

Loki was standing with his hands in the pocket, a green scarf around his neck, watching people go by. Searching for her eyes. For the redness of her scarf. Sighing he turned on his heels, his hope slowly dimming. His ebony locks got picked up by a breeze that announced the arrival of a train.

He almost missed it. The flash of a redness. The fluttering of a scarf. If he had blinked, it all would had vanished.

There, on the opposite platform, she stood shivering against the chilly breeze, wet hair sticking onto her face. She looked so small, so fragile. As if she was stuck in a racing car, going 30 miles per hour. She might've been. For all Loki knew, time never did stop.

He caught glimpses of her through the sliding doors, as the train pulled to a stop. She got in, her hand gripping the bars.

And somehow her eyes found his across the whole station, through the doors, above the mass of people.

It was times like these that made Loki believe in fate.

He could see from afar the sparkle in her eyes. the secrets she held in them, the flash of recognition. It was gone all too soon.

And the train left. He was alone.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The house was quite most of the times (only her father and her lived in it). Quite, but cozy. But not this time. The soft musical notes were coming from Garwin's study and Y/N found herself struck, a foot hovering over the first step.

Wise man say

Only fools rush in

Elvis Presley's voice boomed through the shells of her ears, all the way down to her core. She knew the song all too well (it was hard not to when the record store next to her workshop played it almost every day), but it was as if she was hearing it for the first time. Images of slow dancing and swishing dress flashed through her mind, stealing her breath. It was all too hazy. She didn't recall dancing to Presley with a brunet man, whose face was quite blurry in her memories. If anything, it could all had been a distant dream.

She took a step back and towards her father's study, the music getting louder. The old wooden floor creaked under her steps and she opened the heavy door. The sight of her old dear, father swaying to "Can't help falling in love" greeted her. Even in his sixties, he still had the moves.

"Little one! Come, come! Dance with your old papa!"

Y/N smiled, despite her suddenly shortness of breath. Her father twirled her around and she let out a laugh. "I didn't know we had a record of Elvis."

"We didn't."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Did you buy one, then?"

Garwin slid across the floor, shimming his shoulders. "A young man dropped it. He said it was for you. He looked quite familiar, actually. I couldn't pin point from where I knew him, though."

Y/N stopped in her tracks, slowly turning her eyes onto her father. "How did this young man look like?"

Garwin, picking up on the alarming tone in her voice, let his dancing feet stop. His crinkled eyes found hers, searching, trying to read through the furrowed eyebrows and the widened eyes. "He had jet black hair. Quite lanky, too. Little one, if you're in trouble, please do tell me-"

She shook her head, her ears picking up again on Elvis' strong voice again. "No, no, I know him from somewhere."

And in a quite voice, she added: "I just don't know from where."

•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Every day, a package would appear on the house's step. Every day, Y/N would tear apart the wrapping, looking into the mysterious box and discovering secrets, things she could almost remember. It was as if she was looking into a steamed and blurry mirror. The lines were way too thin. She couldn't read them.

The next day she got an emerald ring that threw sparkles around every time she twirled it between her thumbs. It was cold to the touch, but it somehow spread warmth through her body.

She stared into the gem, trying to find some words of truth but only finding whispers.

Whispers of the past.

A curious voice in her head urged her to slid it onto her left, ring finger. It felt so right, like the moon kissing the stars in the night sky. She reveled in the way the ring hugged her finger, in the way she didn't even feel it heavy. In the way she felt like she wore it before.

Déjà vu.

And then she received a memory in the form of photographs, the kind which you take with your friends in some photo booth after a wild night. It was like looking into a mirror. Y/N saw herself as she was, wearing the same red scarf, but talking to a young brunet man. Smiling. Pecking his lips.

She saw him before. At the train station, but somewhere else too. His name was on the tip of her tongue and his familiar face was buried somewhere in the back of her mind, just below the dusty drawers of it.

She couldn't quite remember.

•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Meet me at The British Museum, in front of a tapestry. You'll know which one, I'll be waiting.

That's what it was written on the note she received that day. She stared at it, hoping the letters would arrange themselves into answers. But they didn't. Stubbornly, they stared right back and Y/N felt her throat closing up.

The note made its home in her coat pocket, burning holes into it and weighing it down. Her mind was off the rails the whole day. Her fingers would always slipped and the sewing needle would pierce through the skin, drawing blood and staining the material. She couldn't concentrate. So, she closed the workshop earlier that day, letting her feet carry her mindlessly through London all the way to The British Museum.

People went and came, stressed beyond belief, checking their watches and muttering under their breath, but all Y/N did was to scratch the back of her head while she waited for the red light to turn green, screaming at her mind to pull the pieces of the puzzles together.

She despised the feeling as if she forgot something. She was never the one to forget. She always remembered birthdays (especially her father's). She remembered her clients' orders and whims ("Can you cut the dress shorter, please? Just above the knees.") She remembered how to use a measuring tape and a sewing machine, although at this point her hands started to have a mind of their own, doing the work without too much thought. She remembered what year and day it was (in a month it would be Christmas and her birthday).

Why, then, couldn't she remember him?

It was annoying. Trying to remember something you might've never even lived or seen. Someone you might've never even met. Annoying.

Her feet halted to a stop in front of the towering building of the museum and her hair started raising in goosebumps. The photos were now weighing a tone, dragging her down.

One step at a time.

Buying an entrance ticket.

Another step. And another, weaving through the mass of people, passing by a group of scholars who were there on a trip.

Another step. Thoughts dancing through her brain, tearing down the calm demeanor she put on this morning.

Step. Step. Step. Passing by a couple giggling and pointing at the exhibitions.

Stop.

The tapestry was beautifully crafted, the threads closing into each other smoothly. The green of it swallowed her whole and her eyes drank in the scene woven on it. Two figures dancing. There he was again, ebony hair and green, shining eyes. She cursed her weak memory. Her voice had a mind of its own, speaking through the haziness of it all and drawing conclusions. "That is one marvelous piece of work."

"It is."

If you were to ask her if she recognized the voice from besides her, she would have answered in a heartbeat that yes, she did. It was familiar to her. But she wouldn't know from here. Maybe from a dream. Or from childhood, some faces and voices are never really forgotten.

Ever so slowly, Y/N turned her head, to put a face to a voice. It was him. Pitch black, shiny locks cascading down his shoulders, vivid eyes that could pierce through your soul. "You waited for me." she whispered.

He nodded, shyly putting his hands in his pockets. "I did. I just knew you would come."

The feeling that she had this conversation before was resurfacing once again, knuckling at the back of her mind. Her eyebrows furrowed. "Were you the one that sent me all that stuff?"

His eyes grew soft, catching the low light. "Yes. Did you like them?"

Y/N took a step back, suddenly feeling very dizzy. She brought her left hand to her forehead, the ring glittering in the light.

He noticed it. Of course he did. How could he not when his heart sped up just at the sight of it? "You're wearing my ring." he breathed.

She nervously laughed, avoiding his gaze. "It just felt right. It was a gift after all, wasn't it?'

"Indeed." His voice was like satin, like silk, like those textiles she loved to work with. Smooth, but tricky, rarely letting the sewing needle to strike through without any mistake. "Will you look at me?" he added eventually.

And she did, finally looking him in the eyes. And then she saw it all. The tavern they first danced in, the moment they met again in front of the tapestry. Slow dancing to Elvis Presley, his hand in hers. Kissing her knuckles. The "I love you"s. Waterloo. The photo booth. Fate bringing them together once again.

"I know you." she replied quietly. "I- I remember you. I know you, Loki. You came back for me. Every time."

Tears started gathering in the corner of their eyes. and Y/N took a step closer to him. "Please, forgive me. Forgive me for all the suffering I have ever caused you. I left you every time and I-"

His hand took hers, gently, like a feather falling to the ground. "Please, don't say that, darling. It was not your fault. It never was. It was something beyond your power. Or mine, for that matter."

A tear slipped from her eye and her trembling, free hand took hold of the photos from her pocket. "I remember this day too. I was wearing my red scarf and you were wearing your green one. And it was chilly. And I dragged you to this photograph booth from the corner of some street. And you humoured me."

Loki's thumb dried her tears, caressing her skin lightly. "You said that you'd remember me in your next life if I show you these photos."

A smile broke through and she nodded. "I did."

He let his forehead fall against hers. "You did."

"Never let me go, Loki."

"Never, darling. You have my heart 'till the end of time."

Bonus:

"Let them be happy, Odin. At least this time." Frigga's voice echoed throughout the whole throne room.

"I can't stop time and fate from doing their job, but I can slow them down. Even if it means a few more minutes to spare."

The end.

•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A/N: there it is! The grand finale! I hope you enjoyed this little journey. I know I did. This story holds a special place in my heart and sharing it with you had been amazing. Thank you.

The ending is kinda open, so if you have any theories or thoughts on it, I'd love to hear them :)

Also, I'll post some visuals aka some edits for this series so keep your eyes peeled for that!

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list by commenting under this post or by sending me an ask!

Main tag list: : @bohemianrhapsody86 @andreead

Series tag list: @mischief2sarawr @mochie85 @strrvnge @salempoe @xorpsbane @huntress-artemiss @123forgottherest @glitterylokislut @lokidbadguy @highkeysimpingforloki @bored-as-hell-666 @french-vanilla-in-the-clouds

#loki x reader #loki x fem!reader #mcu #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #loki #angst #fluff #fanfic writing #writing #masterlist #my writing #time after time #laura writes

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Oooo.... How about Pretty Petals guys and flavors of ice cream??

Ransom - french vanilla

Steve - cookies and cream

Bucky - chunky monkey

Loki - pistachio

Lloyd - double chocolate fudge with peanut butter cups

Andy - cherry chip

Curtis - earl grey

Lee - butterscotch ripple

[rootedincuteness]

Mog was in charge of decorating this little table, but at first he said he did it all by himself. I was skeptical when I saw the pumpkin decoration that was strung up way too high for him to reach. Unable to stay in the shadows and not accept credit for his handiwork any longer, Loki emerged and admitted that he’d hung the pumpkin ghost. I was about the chastise Mog for lying, but he said he was only covering for Loki, who felt that decorating might ruin his bad demon image. I guess I can’t fault Mog for being a good friend. XD

#mog fuzzybottom III the earl of grey #loki the teacup demon #friends of mudpie #halloween decorations

[five-miles-over]

The Age of Loki - Part One

(credit to @tomhiddlestunned for this image)

Pairing: Professor Hiddleston x Reader, Loki x Reader (eventually)

Summary: For his second year teaching at Oxford's English department, Professor Hiddleston hires you to be his first-ever teaching assistant. One night while working late, he shows you the newest addition to his poetry class's syllabus: the Lokasenna, a poem centered on the Norse god of mischief...and accidentally summons the trickster god himself.

Disclaimer: this fic is not meant to offend any real-life person, it's just a relatively-harmless AU meant to explore a hypothetical what-if scenario.

Warnings: just a little jealousy, but mainly banter

Professor Hiddleston lived by three rules. Rule number one, always be kind to everyone you meet. Rule number two, dancing's not a crime. And rule number three, never get Starbucks for yourself without buying something for your TA, especially if she's working late. 

Professor Hiddleston strode into the library closest to the Oxford English department building as the grandfather clock rung ten times. His brown curls combed back, he wore a crisp three-piece suit and carried a leather messenger bag on his left shoulder. He immediately made his way towards the table where you were grading essays for his Fundamentals of Poetry course, and placed a Starbucks cup in front of you. 

"Grande Earl Grey Tea Latte with two shots of espresso and a dash of vanilla."

At the sound of his voice, you looked up from your papers and lowered your red felt tip pen. "Two weeks of working for you, and you've already figured out my coffee order?"

"Well, you were in my course for nearly five months before you became my teaching assistant." Professor Hiddleston gently corrected you with a smile, lowering the messenger bag from his shoulder while his right hand held a croissant wrapped in brown parchment paper. He took a bite into the flaky pastry and licked his bottom lip. "Plus, you always sat in the front row. I could smell the Earl Grey from your cup while I was lecturing."

"It was a course held at eight-thirty in the morning," you quipped, taking a sip. "I needed my caffeine. And so did you, judging by the tea cup on your desk."

Professor Hiddleston chuckled. He loved the way you always had a comeback ready for him. It made your relationship so much more than former student-former professor, or TA-and-professor. 

Being a relatively new professor at Oxford, you were the first teaching assistant he'd hired since he began his second year as a member of the university's faculty. Yes, his first course within the English department last year had a class size of almost two hundred students, but that number dwindled like drops of morning dew throughout the semester. And within the fifty or so students that remained, you were one of the few who stood out to him as someone genuinely interested in his class discussions and assignments. You showed up to every lecture, without fail, completely prepared and willing to bring your own ideas to the table. And to someone like Hiddleston, that was exactly what he needed in an assistant. Someone who could help him navigate the challenges of teaching a course from start to finish. 

So when the semester came to a close, and he'd finished doling out the final grades, he left a handwritten note on your term paper inviting you to see him in his office. When you arrived, he simply made you an offer, or rather a promise. He promised you the position of his first-ever TA, with a decent pay for a university student - about twenty-one thousand pounds a year - and the opportunity to be his "second-in-command", like a king's chief advisor, though some would say that a king's second-in-command is actually his queen…Never mind that for the moment. 

To say that working alongside you was enjoyable would be an understatement. He liked discussing with you in the library about life, literature, and how many times is appropriate to watch the same play. Professor Hiddleston found himself looking forward to each moment with you, to the point where he started ending his appointments five minutes earlier than scheduled, just so he could have a few minutes to comb his hair and put a little extra spritz of cologne before seeing you. And every time he had the privilege of introducing you as his new teaching assistant, whether he was talking to fellow professors or to one of his three classes this semester, Professor Hiddleston's face would light up as if he'd won the lottery. Actually, in Professor Hiddleston's mind that may as well be true; you were truly one of the best people he'd ever met since he joined the university.

You took another sip, and underlined a few awkwardly phrased sentences on the paper in front of you. "It looks like a lot of these people quoted Shakespeare's sonnet. You know, the one everybody knows about? 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?'" You wrote a 'B' on the paper and then grabbed another essay, pushing a section of hair out of your face. 

"You picked a good assignment for your Fundamentals of Poetry course, it's very fitting for the first essay of the semester," you remarked, bringing him back into reality. You read aloud the prompt, which asked the students to write about how poetry has affected their lives. They were encouraged to include examples of poems that had a lasting impact on their lives and their world views. And if Professor Hiddleston were true to his word, then he would possibly use the assignment as a basis to decide which of the poems from his course's syllabus he might actually teach.

"I thought so too." 

"-Thou art more lovely and more temperate," Professor Hiddleston murmured in continuation, taking a few steps so that he was now standing right next to your chair, his eyes on you while you graded the next essay. "Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer’s lease hath all too short a date…" The half-eaten croissant completely forgotten, he placed his free hand on the table, inching it towards the essays and haphazardly-arranged pens until it was almost a millimeter away from your arm. He immediately froze as soon as he realized the proximity, his hand tensed all of a sudden.

His ability to recall verses at the drop of a hat was always impressive; it was one of the many things you liked about Professor Hiddleston. Your head down, you continued to skim the essay before marking it with a 'C+'. You sighed, "Exactly. But none of them seem to give proper explanations as to why this particular sonnet by Shakespeare. Listen to this, Professor. 'Shakespeare sonnet number eighteen has made me see the world in a more romantic way. I have learned to appreciate the beauty in the world, and see the 

Professor Hiddleston leaned against the table. "And why do you think that is an unsatisfactory explanation?" He asked with a small smile.

"Because that kind of an explanation could be used for any kind of poem. Alright, maybe not any kind of poem, but it's not specific to sonnet number eighteen."  

"I couldn't agree more," Professor Hiddleston simply said. "There's no clarification as to why that particular sonnet, or Shakespeare's sonnets in general?"

"No, not really." Putting the 'C+' essay along with the other graded ones, you reached for the Starbucks cup. "I just don't understand why a bunch of the students would all quote the same sonnet for this assignment, and then all use…shoddy explanations." 

Your word choice made him chuckle and look down for a moment. You could definitely make a great professor yourself.

Just then, your phone vibrated, and you reached down to the leg of your chair, into your bag to check it.

Professor Hiddleston crossed his arms, squaring his shoulders as the smile disappeared. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, my boyfriend Chris just texted me. He's upset about having to postpone our date night."

He sighed aloud. 

"What is it?" You frowned and put the phone away. 

"I don't like him."

"You haven't even met the guy." 

He looked you in the eye, arms still crossed. "Not entirely true. I saw him pick you up from this very library two days ago, at eight-thirty. It was after you finished grading my pop quizzes on "The Fall of the House of Usher". He's a tall, blonde,…surfer, beach bum kind of boy, right? This Christopher of yours-"

You nearly gave the professor a scowl. "He hates being called that."

"I'm just saying that you could do better than this Christopher. He's just not the type of guy that you should be with."

You shook your head. "You're a wonderful professor, but I'm not taking dating advice from someone who's dating three different women at the same time." You retorted and picked up the red felt tip pen for no reason. 

His eyebrows furrowed. "Now hang on just a moment -" He interjected, "We agreed that nothing was to be exclusive."

"Is 'we' referring to you and your cell phone?" Alright, that wasn't your best comeback ever, you had to admit. It was late, and more than anything, you needed a warm hug and some sleep. 

"Drink your tea, it's getting cold." Professor Hiddleston pointed to your Starbucks cup, and then took a bite into the croissant, which was already starting to feel tough, almost rubbery in his mouth. "There's something I wanted to show you. Something I want for tomorrow's class."

"What is it?"

Professor Hiddleston ate the rest of the croissant in a single bite, reached into his bag, and retrieved a leather-bound book, its edges slightly torn up. The pages were almost a yellowish-beige, barely glued to the spine, and covered in dust. 

He began to flip through the pages. "It all began with the gods having a feast, hosted by the sea god Ægir. Loki grew jealous of all the praise being heaped upon the other guests, and slew Ægir's servant Fimafeng." 

"The Lokasenna," Professor Hiddleston introduced, a touch of theatricality in his voice, the same voice he used for his lectures. "It's a poem from Norse mythology, one of the poems from the Poetic Edda, describing the exchange of insults between Loki - the god of mischief - and the other gods."

"Interesting choice…it's certainly no Shakespearean sonnet." You commented.

You took a drink from your Starbucks, nodding. "Hm-hm." The clock inside the library rung eleven times, the sound as solemn as  funeral march. 

"And then," he sat across from you and continued to narrate, "Loki enters the hall and demands to be seated. The other gods are reluctant, but Loki recalls an old vow sworn with Odin that they should drink together. So, the gods make some space for Loki." Professor Hiddleston's eyes twinkled with excitement. "And Loki continues to insult the gods, and no one can seem to stop him. The only one…" he turned the page, "who can stop Loki is Thor, the son of Odin, because Thor is the only one who Loki fears."

"Thor, the…god of thunder?"

"Thor the god of thunder," Professor Hiddleston flipped the page again.

You asked him if the book contained any original Norse dialect, or any Old Norse. It turns out it was just a one-of-a-kind book about Loki left in the Oxford library hundreds of years ago, containing an English word-for-word translation of the Lokasenna, along with an interpretation of each verse. It could've been a collector's item, sitting in the study of some member of the bourgeoise, but it served a more glorious purpose in the library of a university, available for literature enthusiasts. 

I, Lopt, from a journey long,

Professor Hiddleston cleared his throat and began reading to you the part where Loki demanded the other gods for a drink.

"Thirsty I come | into this thine hall,

To ask of the gods | that one should give

Fair mead for a drink to me."

He paused only to sneeze, which should've been expected given the amount of dust within the old book.

Professor Hiddleston sneezed again, and you noticed a small cloud of blue dust rise from the book when he did. He finished the verse,

"Why sit ye silent, | swollen with pride,

Ye gods, and no answer give?"

"At your feast a place and a seat prepare me,

Or bid me forth to fare."

After he sneezed a third time, louder than before, another cloud of blue dust escaped from the pages. Only this time, the cloud of blue dust grew larger, and larger…until it began to swirl around the two of you.

"What's happening?" You hurriedly stood up from your chair. 

Professor Hiddleston gulped, his eyes wide as he dropped the book onto the table and immediately reached for your arm. "I-I-I don't know! I…Are we being transported to another realm?!"

"I should hope not!"

After what felt like several moments of confusion, the blue dust subsided. Before you stood a tall man with shoulder-length, greasy black hair, a pale oblong face with defined cheekbones, and a deceptive smirk. He wore a cape lined with green silk, that billowed around his ankles as he strode towards you, and his black leather heeled shoes clicked as he walked. 

Professor Hiddleston made his way forward, standing between you and the tall man with his hands out. "Who are you?" He demanded, his lip quivering. 

"I am Loki of Asgard," the man smugly introduced himself. With a wave of his hand, a set of golden horns appeared on his head, and a dagger in his other hand. Another wave, and both of those things disappeared. "And I have been summoned."

Tag list: @lokischambermaid @smolvenger @lokidbadguy @turniptitaness @lokisgoodgirl @evelyn-kingsley @lovelysizzlingbluebird @muddyorbsblr @anukulee @omgsuperstarg @holdmytesseract @lokidbadguy @stupidthoughtsinwriting @icytrickster17 @thatdummy-girl @fantasyfan4life

#tom hiddleston #loki god of mischief #loki #tom hiddleston characters #professor tom hiddleston #professor fic #professor hiddleston #professor hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston au #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x reader fic

[literatureatthebowofnails]

A/N: ...and we're back. Can't say that took long. Maybe two hours between queuing up the last one and starting this one. My muse is in a needy mood this week.

This drabble is my second addition to the 14 Days of Valentines community project hosted by @muddyorbsblr.

Series masterlist

Pairing: Loki x reader

Summary: So, you met a god at a gala...may the courtship begin

Flurries begin to drift outside, solidifying the promise of a snowy week. At their cue, you exit the cafe to store the patio furniture.

Your three patrons barely notice, absorbed in their phones and newspaper. It's been an especially slow morning, with little distraction from your wandering thoughts.

You wish Wanda would show up. Even if she did, you couldn't bring yourself to tell her what's bugging you, but at least you could vicariously enjoy her love life. 'It's silly, really,' you chide yourself. 'He was just being polite.'

It hasn't kept you from hoping though. From perking up expectantly each time the door chimed. From offering to take Chrysa's shift at the first hint she might not want it. From spending "a tad" more time on your appearance in the mornings.

You shake your head with a scoff as you lock the shed. The thought that an Avenger...a prince...no, a god would be interested in you...'delusions of grandeur is the understatement of the century.'

You take a deep breath and with a shake of your head, return to the warmth of the coffee house.

"Hello darling."

You trip on a chair leg at the sound of his voice, your eyes trailing up to reach the face you'd just pushed from your mind. "Hi," you squeak. "What...ah, what can I get for you?"

Brushing your hands off on your apron, you slide around the counter to face him. Your other patrons remain oblivious. Either they don't recognize the man who'd lead an army through town three years ago, or more likely, hadn't looked up when he entered. The quiet Slavic eatery has two Avengers show in the span of a week and the locals can't be bothered to notice.

Loki studies the pastry display. "Are these the kolaczkis you spoke of?"

"Yes, they are," you try to tamper your enthusiasm, swelling with pride. "I baked them this morning. Would you like one?"

"I would be honored," the sincerity of his tone has your cheeks on fire. "Do you have tea?"

"We do," you carefully plate a particularly well-filled kolaczki. "What's your preferred blend?"

"Earl grey," he replies, but you don't quite catch it. It reaches your ears fine, but your brain is fixated on the way his lips move. The pastry hovers, your hand half extended across the counter. Your mouth moves, caught between responding and preparing to brush against his as your limbic system fires in every direction.

He smirks as he repeats himself and takes the offered plate.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Being this attractive can't possibly be legal, right?

"Right," you nod. "I'll get right on you. On that. On...I'll make your tea." Turning to do so, you continue under your breath. "Pull it together already." You make yourself a fresh cup as well, opting for a chamomile with a prayer that it calms your nerves.

Steaming water fills the cups and you realize the two of you are alone in the cafe. The street outside is hushed and deserted, snow collecting on the windowsills. "Would you do me the pleasure of joining me?" he asks.

"Of course." You take a kolaczki and join him in the cozy booth by the window. You watch, wide eyed as he flavors his tea. You haven't seen anyone, even an unattended child, put that much honey in a drink.

"I must admit, the pastries weren't my primary motivation for coming." He takes a bite. "Though they certainly live up to their reputation.

"I'm here because I wish to court you."

"Court me?" The antiquated phrasing makes you smile as much as the meaning behind it. "So, to clarify, you're asking me on a date?"

"Ah, yes. A date. That's what the Sargent called it. Would you join me for dinner tomorrow evening?"

"Dinner sounds wonderful," your eyelashes bat at the thought. Courtship. Like some Cinderella fantasy. He wishes to 'court' you.

"Excellent," he beams, standing. "Thank you for the tea. I'll pick you up at 7."

You pull out your phone to take his number. There's a notification: "Stark Industries download complete. New contact: Rock of Ages (LL)." You giggle. "Rock of Ages?"

"What?" his confused frown turns to mild irritation. "Stark finds these names amusing."

"Just texted my address. I'll see you tomorrow at 7 then."

"Lovely, darling," he kisses your knuckles. "I'll take my leave. You ought to do the same before the snow gets worse." With that, he's gone.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Every note is a compliment of the highest order.

Tag list: @peaches1958

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the list.

Next part

Main masterlist

#14 days of valentines #community project #loki god of mischief #loki odinson #loki #marvel loki #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki x y/n #loki series #mcu loki #god of mischief #admiral at the bow of nails #loki x reader #loki/reader #loki layfeyson x reader #loki fluff #dandelion fluff #fluff

[christinebloodwrittings]

Hello!!! May I request a Loki x female reader where y/n doesn't care for tea Loki seems like a tea kinda guy. Anyway shes tried to like tea, but it either tastes bland like barely falvored water or tastes bitter and bad. Her favorite is cheap candy cane green tea and she's kinda embarrassed to tell Loki that's her favorite. He's royalty hes used to quality tea not cheap low quality stuff.

You ask I write! Thank you so much for your request 💖💖

*My requests are open*

Pairing: Loki x Fem!reader

Summary: Are fancy things that good? Can't one just enjoy the simple things?

Warnings: Angst, fluff, Loki being an ass.

Loki taglist: @lokisprettygirl22 @lucky-foxface @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @high-functioning-lokipath @thereadinggeek @el-zef @apine7 @beakami @lokiprompts @llaufeysondggerxx @ilovefanfictions

Tea Party

When you were little, your father took you to a store. Everything looked big and colorful as you walked hand in hand with him, you were fascinated. He filled the shopping cart with everything that your family may need for the month, and in between all the groceries you saw a polar bear box fall.

You were obsessed with the box and how it smelled, you loved it so much your dad opened it and took out a teabag. Gosh! The sweet minty smell filled the kitchen, it was divine, “Here, but be careful it’s a bit hot, so blow gently” he instructed, pushing gently your green kitty mug towards you.

It was sweet, not so cloying nor minty enough to taste like toothpaste, it was lovely.

He say the way you smiled, so he bought you boxes and boxes of candy cane green tea, only to see your excitement when he opened it for you.

Even as an agent, after every mission you took out your kitty mug from the cupboard, a bag of either mint, cinnamon or vanilla, a spoonful of sugar, added water, and sat on the couch near the window to observe the city, even better if it was raining, the tower had the best views.

The warmth, it was like a hug, or maybe you were just tired and alone, but the truth was that you missed him, your dad.

“I’m gonna make some tea, Loki would you like some?” It was custom of yours; it brought a smile to his face to see that at least someone didn’t treated him like garbage, “Yes, thank you. Earl Grey please” in comparison his taste was fancy, both price and composition.

“Have you ever tasted Earl grey?” you shook your head, “Would you like to try some?” he didn’t added any sugar to his tea, that was something that made you hold back on his offer, but you didn’t wanted to seem impolite, so you nodded and received his cup on your hands.

It tasted worse than sock water.

“And?” he wanted to know your opinion, crap! “Uhm, it’s just not my thing, thank you” you placed his cup on his hands again. He had such a look on his eyes, would he be offended because you didn't like the tea? or could it be that you made faces when taking the sip? You wished you could read his mind, but you would have to pass twenty thousand barriers. In the end, you had different tastes, that was obviously valid, but maybe not in his mind.

“Maybe it’s because you tainted your tastebuds with that cheap stuff of yours” he mumbled, you heard him but pretended you didn’t.

It wasn’t the fist time someone had tried to pick on you because of the things you enjoyed, you were used to it, and still it didn’t bothered you a single bit. You were stronger, and the taste made the horrible feelings go away.

But, how the guy you like would understand? That his words hit you harder than anyone else’s. Maybe he hasn’t realized that you have something for him, you thought you were pretty obvious.

He tried a couple more times with different tea options, Black, Jasmine, Oolong, Chun Mee green tea, but it all tasted the same, bitter and earthy, like a dirt sort of flavor.

He lost it when he saw you taking out a bag from the candy cane tea box.

“Why you drink that rubbish?” you heard Loki chuckle, “I like it” you knew he was mocking you, but you took a stand as the bigger person and continued to do your thing. “It’s not even tea, it’s an insult to call it as such” he laughed again, drinking earl Grey Tea from his cup, “And? I like it, and that’s all that matters” ‘strong’ you repeated in your head, until he grabbed your arm keeping you from leaving the kitchen.

“Here, I’ll make you a cup of real tea” Loki dragged you inside, blocking the door, “Let go, Loki. Hey!” you protested, he snatched your mug from your hands and placed one of his plain white ones.

“Drink real tea the right way, here” you placed the cup on the counter and open your hand, “Give it back Loki, I mean it” you sounded stern and serious, but he laughed, “Not until you desist from this garbage” the tea went straight down the drain, and the teabag to the trash can.

“I’ll make more Loki, I don’t care, give me my mug” he sensed your desperation, your big mistake, because he used it to make his bargain serious, “Drink the tea, darling, it’s good for you and it doesn’t have as much chemicals” it made you so angry you wanted to cry, but sucked it up fast enough, “Give me my mug Loki, now!” your hands were shaking, your body visibly trembling from the impotence.

He chuckled, “Make me”. You approached him harshly and rapidly, he was fast to catch your arm with one hand and dodge your other one with his body, moving in circles in the squared kitchen. One unfortunate movement made him drop the mug, it crashed against the floor in millions of pieces.

You felt your heart stop.

“See what you do?” he exhaled, watching you pick up a few pieces from the floor, “Relax Y/n, it’s just a mug” he was being careless, intentionally or not it hurt you nonetheless, “I bet I can buy you a new one” but that was the blow that killed you.

You let out a shaky breath, stood up pushing him against the counter and left the kitchen with your eyes clouded in tears.

“You’re an idiot” Natasha entered the room, her arms crossed, “How come am I an idiot, Agent Romanoff?” he positioned against the counter, like trying to look like you didn’t just pushed him.

“That mug and tea has been her favorites forever, you shouldn't have done that” she said it just to spite him, he thought, “Come on, you must know if she has better taste” it slipped, making Nat laugh, “I hope so”.

Loki let out a funny ‘Wow’, thinking he had agreed with the agent, “I’m pretty glad we concur on someth-” but he earned a punch to his face. “I mean her taste in men, asshole” it was like he was missing something, “I beg your pardon?”.

“You heard me. That tea was something special she had with her dad, and that mug was the last thing she had from him before he died, it was her sixth birthday, a year prior to the shooting he died in” his blood froze inside his body, his stomach tightened and felt sick, “I…I didn’t know” now he was the one with the shaky hands.

“Fix this, or that scepter of yours will end up your intestines” Nat threatened, deep down being very serious.

But he clicked, he had to fix it. Not because of her threat, but because of two things. One, he hurt you, and two, the guilt would kill him. The guilt of the fact that he made you cry.

“Y/n?” he said after knocking your door, his voice almost cracked.

“Go away Loki” he opened the door either way, “Are you deaf or stupid? I don’t want you here” wrapped in your blanket you hugged a picture and a shard of the broken mug.

“Please listen, I didn’t know about your father” his stomach flipped inside him, your eyes were anger raw, he knew you restrained yourself from beating him up when you approached him.

“How amazing of you. You insult me, you annoy me, you don't stop until you break something that I had a lot of affection for. Natasha has told you, hasn't she? Fuck you Loki, I don't want to see you, I don't want to talk to you, and forget about me, good luck finding another one who treats you like a person in this place. I'm tired of you and your teasing” the world opened to him, he looked back months of conversations with you.

How lovely you always were with him, even though he was being horrible to you. Never losing that beautiful smile of yours, making sure you gave him the tea he wanted.

“And to think that I came to like you, how stupid I am" he was truly frozen in place, “Leave” he didn’t move, “Y/n” you slapped him, “Say my name one more time Laufeyson, I swear I’ll break your jaw” he turned his face to look at you, apologetic, like a sad puppy.

But you couldn’t care less.

“Leave, NOW!” yelling at him did no good, he didn’t left, “Hit me, break my jaw like you said, I’m not moving” he opened his arms to it, so you punched him, a big mistake, his Jotun nature burn your hand, and aggravated the cut the shard of the mug had left on your palm.

“FUCK!” you hissed, “I deserved it” he was damn right, but he stopped self-pitying when he saw blood drip to the floor, “Let me see your hand” because of all the blood you complied, he made you sit on the bed and conjured a first aid kit to tend your wound.

“That’s what I get for punching a god” you hissed again, his bandaging skills sucked, but you had too much of a big heart to tell him. In the end he pressed his cold hand to the wound and your bruised knuckles to numb your hand a little.

“Better?” you nodded, “My hand? Yes, the situation? No” his hands were soft. “I didn’t know it was your favorite” his thumb caressed your hand.

“How could I tell you? You constantly called it cheap stuff or garbage, you made me feel embarrassed of liking something” First time he took into consideration what was happening to you, and since it was his fault, it hurt twice as much. Why hadn't he realized it before?

“I’m sorry” that’s all he could say.

“That’s how you made me feel, Loki” you made emphasis on your feelings, to make him see it, but again all he could say was: “I’m sorry”.

“Have I done something to you?” If you had to come to that conclusion, it was that he had been the worst shit ever. “No, I was an arse, I see that now” you nodded, “A big one”.  

He cleaned a tear off your cheek, “How can I make it up to you?” by cupping your face he wanted to draw you closer, but it felt out of place.  

“If you dare to buy me a new mug, I’ll burn you alive, Loki, mark my words” If you weren’t serious he would’ve laughed, “I won’t, I promise”, you leaning into his hand brought him a little piece, “Just stop making fun of the things I enjoy”, he built courage to lift his lips to your forehead, “Done”.

A few weeks passed, you reignited your tea routine with Loki, this time without his comments, and a bright new attitude.

“Y/n, fancy a cup of Tea?” he asked popping his head out the kitchen door. “Thank you, but I don’t like that fancy stuff you drink, you know that” he remembered laughing because you called Oolong sock water, he took it very well.

“Vanilla, cinnamon or mint?” he held a brand new box of your favorites, “Cinnamon, thank you”, a minute later he appeared in front of you with his hands behind his back; looked at you with a smile before he handed you a mug, “Here”, one that looked exactly like the one your father gave you.  

“Shit, Loki I told you not to buy me a new mug!” three more seconds and you would’ve smashed the ceramics and the hot water on him, “Yes, but you didn’t said I couldn’t make one” you laughed at his statement, it almost brought you up tears.

“Good joke Loki, I’m missing the punchline, or that’s the part where I fall for your lies?” You said, but then Natasha tapped your shoulder, “I wish, but no. He’s telling the truth. He spent days making it and painting it” he made you a mug?.

“It’s ok if you don’t want it, I completely unders-” you took the mug from his hands, put it on the coffee table beside the couch, and seizing he slouched to stare into your eyes, you cupped his cheeks and kissed him.

His lips were soft, perhaps more than his hands, which held your hips against his and then hugged you with everything he had. His kiss became more passionate, your hands ruffled his hair and cupped the back of his head to deepen it.

"Thank you, it means a lot” you blurted out wholeheartedly before he caught your lips again, occasionally biting your bottom lip. “I should make good deeds more often”, you giggled, “Shut it, mischief”.

#loki of jotunheim #loki x y/n #loki of asgard #loki series #loki x reader smut #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki smut #loki laufeyson #mcu loki #loki x female reader #loki odinson #loki reader insert #jotun loki x reader #marvel #loki marvel #loki #loki x reader #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki god of mischief #loki one shot #loki oneshot #loki god of lies #loki boyfriend #loki sex #loki fic #loki x ofc #imagine #mcu

[mangle-my-mind]

Get to Know Me Tag Game

Thanks @ineffableobikin for the tag!!!

1. top 3 ships: Gentlebeard, The Berlin Polycule from Velvet Goldmine, McLennon (I have an old post somewhere where I talk about my heebie-jeebies around rpf, but regardless McLennon is a love story for the ages)

2. first ever ship: probably Curt/Arthur? Not sure tho

3. last song: “Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene", Hozier

4. last movie: "Parting Glances", Bill Sherwood. I am in love with Steve Buscemi now

5. currently reading: ooooof currently not reading. I am partway through a bunch of books but haven't actually made any progress lately :( the last book I read was "Good Omens" as a reread!

6. currently watching: I finished "Reservation Dogs" this week and OW

7. currently consuming: Earl Grey tea

8. currently craving: Peach Snapple

9. tag 9 10 people you want to know better (no pressure tho): @holy-loki @holzerisms @didntyoubelieveinme @footnotesnake @monstersandheartache @moonage-xx-daydream@silverfactory@beatle-capaldi@v-e-l-v-e-t-g-o-l-d-m-i-n-e@all-rock-and-roll-is-homosexual

#Tag game

[natrogersfics]

Game Plan - Chapter 9: Someone You Loved

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3

There’s something about the air in London that makes Natasha crave tea. She couldn’t exactly prove it, but as she fills her mug with freshly boiled water, she can’t help but give the theory some credence. Coffee has been her caffeine fix of choice for as long as she can recall. She does not dare go a day without it, and yet, every time she finds herself across the pond, she catches herself reaching for a nice cup of Earl Grey instead.

“I’ll make a tea drinker out of you yet.”

“It’s either this or the swill in your cupboard also known as instant coffee,” she retorts without looking back as she plunges the tea bag into the mug, letting it steep. “Seriously, why even bother keeping any?”

“Mobius keeps it around for when he’s desperate.”  

With her drink in hand, she turns to find Loki standing by the doorway of his kitchen, a sleeping puppy nestled securely in his arms. “That man is a glutton for punishment.”

“Oh, you’ve no idea,” Loki says with a wiggle of his eyebrows, prompting her to chuckle as she makes her way over to them.

“Good morning, Fenrir,” she coos, running her free hand over the dog’s shiny black fur. Loki, ever the clean freak, hadn’t been too happy when his sister had dropped Fenrir off at his place yesterday, citing a work emergency that she needed to attend to. Taking in the current scene, though, one would never have guessed that her friend had spent the entire day complaining about having to pick up after the pup. She looks back at Loki, smirking. “I told you you’d eventually fall in love.”

Loki scoffs. “I believe that’s the same thing I said about your new hair color.”

As if on reflex, she reaches for the tail end of her now very blonde braid. Yelena had barely left her apartment when she received a phone call from Loki asking her what time her flight was arriving. He hadn’t bothered to ask her how she was doing or for clarification on the news articles she knows he’s seen circulating online, and she knew it’s because he already knew the answer to those. And while she had insisted that there was no need for her to fly out, Loki was having none of it. Either he would fly out or she would, but one thing was for certain, he wasn’t going to allow her to be alone during her leave. Despite her best efforts to persuade him otherwise, she knew there wasn’t any use in arguing with Loki when he was as determined as he was in that moment, and by the next day, she found herself on the redeye to London and walking straight into Loki’s awaiting arms upon landing in Heathrow.

That was nearly a week ago. Since then, there’s been seemingly bottomless bottles of Bordeaux, midnight baking, trips to the spa, and endless shenanigans that’s been nothing short of a salve for her soul. It was on her fourth day when she was accompanying Loki to get a trim when the receptionist had asked if she herself wanted anything done. Perhaps it was from the energy of being away from all of her woes and being digitally off the grid (Loki had taken her phone from her when she landed), but before she could give it too much thought, she found herself nodding and being led to the seat next to Loki.

If she’s being honest, she hadn’t put too much thought into what she wanted done. The only thing she knew was that she wanted a change, and between her hair having always been a fiery scarlet and her having already experimented with jet black box dye in college, bleaching it felt like the natural option. Nevertheless, as the foils were stripped away from her head later on to reveal her newly golden locks, she didn’t miss the slight wave of unease that permeated through her at the sight.

Not that she had permitted herself to flounder in the emotion for long. With a sigh, she had quashed the feeling as quickly as it had come. Change, as unsettling as it can be at times, is the only constant in the world. That’s what she had told Yelena not so long ago. And with that reminder, by the time the stylist had finished washing and running each section of her hair through a dryer and a roller brush, she found herself at peace with her decision.

“I wouldn’t say I’m in love with it,” she says. “It’s definitely growing on me, though.”

“Then I echo that sentiment when it comes to this mongrel.”

“Did you or did you not let him sleep in your bed last night?”  

“I needed something to keep me warm while Mobius is away,” Loki says, sighing in concession when she shoots him a withering glare. “Fine! Him, I like.” He reaches over to pet Fenrir between the ears, the dog all but melting into his touch. “His owner, on the other hand, leaves much to be desired.”

“Hela is not that bad,” she reasons.

“Isn’t she?” Loki challenges. “She’s high-maintenance, full of herself-”

“How many conditioning treatments do you have in your shower again?” she asks, biting back an amused smile. Despite Loki’s harsh words for his twin sister, she knows that in his heart of hearts, he does not truly mean them. If Loki’s smarting at the moment, it’s only because Hela had gone from being the publicist for the club rivaling Loki’s to being the publicist for the entire Premier League within the last year. And, in the good name of sibling rivalry, Hela has taken every opportunity since to remind Loki of her impressive feat.

“You told me that the tangerine one made your hair feel soft as silk,” Loki reminds her. The doorbell rings before she can respond, though, prompting him to make a face. “Speaking of.” He looks down at Fenrir in his arms. “I am truly sorry you have to go home with the devil incarnate.”

“Be nice,” she scolds, shaking her head as she follows him. Loki pulls the door open to reveal Hela, her long onyx hair falling like a glossy curtain around her face as she stands at the doorstep, looking ever the power executive that she is in a black pantsuit and green silk blouse.

“Fenrir!” Hela exclaims, reaching to take the dog from Loki’s arms. “Mummy missed you, my love!” She nuzzles the top of Fenrir’s head as she adds, “I’m terribly sorry I had to leave you in such modest dwellings.”

Loki’s voice rises a decibel. “Modest dwellings?”

“Hela, hey,” she interjects, handing Loki her mug as she steps between him and Hela and ignores the scowl the former directs at her. “How have you been?”

“Oh, just fabulous, darling,” Hela says as she leans forward to give her a kiss on each cheek. “A little tired, but I suppose it comes with the territory.” She shrugs. “The Premier League being the most competitive in Europe and all.”

“I’ll bet,” she says, smiling back at Hela even as she elbows Loki when she hears him mutter something unkosher over the rim of his mug.

“What about you?” Hela says. “What brings you to town?”

“Nothing really,” she says before nodding towards Loki. “This one had invited me to stay over, and since I had time off from work, I figured why not.”

“Are you still working for the Avengers?” Hela asks, to which she nods. “The allure of American football has honestly always evaded me, but from a business standpoint, I can’t help but admire the NFL’s reach and its penchant for being one hell of a profitable bastard.”

She chuckles quietly. “Allowing commercials during the game has its perks.”

Hela hums, her expression growing pensive for a second, before her emerald eyes suddenly light up. “Have you ever considered hosting an NFL game here in London?”

“Hela, Natasha is here on holiday,” Loki tells his sister sternly. “Let’s not ruin it with talk about work.”

“It’s fine, Loki,” she says, placing a hand on Loki’s arm before looking back at Hela. “Besides, as happy as I would be to help you out, Hela, I’m afraid making that kind of arrangement is way above my pay grade.” She shrugs. “I work for the Avengers, not the entire NFL.”

“Not yet, that is,” Hela says with a wink. “Besides, you wouldn’t need the entire league, just two teams. If you could get the Avengers to agree, that’s half the battle already won.”

“True,” she concedes, “let me see what the GM-”

“Though I suppose your Quarterback is finding himself in quite a pickle these days, isn’t he?” Hela says before she can even finish her sentence. “What, with his pregnant ex showing up out of the blue like that.”

“Hela,” Loki says, a veiled warning in his tone.

“Whatever strategy your PR team thinks they’re using to save him is absolute bollocks, by the way,” Hela says, ignoring Loki as her gaze moves towards her. “Between us publicists, what in the world is happening over there?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she says, keeping her tone even. “I’m strictly focused on the team’s PR now.”

“Well, that explains everything,” Hela says, shaking her head. “Frankly, if he has even the slightest interest in salvaging his image after all this, he should have just admitted to being the father from the very beginning instead of whatever it is he thinks he’s doing right now.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks at the same time Hela’s name falls pointedly from Loki’s lips again.

Hela eyes her and Loki, looking at them as though they’ve each grown another head as she takes in the confusion on their faces. “This morning’s pictures,” she says simply, shifting on her feet to settle a squirming Fenrir. “You know, the ones of him and… Peggy, is it? They’re coming out of what I assume is her prenatal appointment, hand in hand.” She scoffs. “I know everyone likes a happy ending, but for goodness’ sake, you just drove your team to a second consecutive loss and now you’re out frolicking with your ex without so much as an official statement?” Hela’s face twists with annoyance. “The optics, people!”

From her periphery, she catches the way Loki’s gaze shifts towards her, but she keeps her eyes on Hela as she shrugs. “I’m sure they have their reasons.”

“Just be glad he’s not your problem anymore,” Hela says before sighing. “Anyhow, Fenrir and I best get going.”

“Best idea you’ve had yet,” Loki says, eliciting a glare from Hela as he reaches for the doorknob.

“Oh, one last thing,” Hela says, peering over Loki’s shoulder as he lets out an exasperated sigh. “How long are you in town for?”

“I leave in two days,” she says.

“In that case, the League is having a charity event tonight. There’ll be drinks, dancing, an auction. Not to mention a parade of handsome lads.” Hela smiles. “I’d love to have you.”  

“Seriously?” Loki says, “Natasha didn’t fly all the way here to-”

“Actually, that sounds great,” she interjects, ignoring the surprised expression that makes its way onto Loki’s face. “Thanks, Hela.”

“Brilliant, I’ll have them add you to the guest list,” Hela says, her smile faltering as she turns to Loki. “I suppose you’re welcome to attend as well, dear brother. Assuming, of course, you don’t wear… whatever it is you’re wearing right now.”

“As if people will have time to dissect my sartorial choices when your face will be there!” Loki says, watching as Hela, practically cackling, retreats down his driveway. With a huff, he pushes the door shut and turns back to her. “Have you gone mad?”

“Like you didn’t want to go,” she says, her statement an accusation more than anything else as she recalls how he’s been complaining about Hela withholding his invitation to this very event – the same one that’s slated to have every executive in the League in attendance. Before her, Loki feigns indignance for another beat before sighing in concession, making her scoff. “So, are you going to drive me to get a dress or what?”

Loki purses his lips, as if to ponder her question. “We’re stopping for scones first, right?”  

“Obviously.”

Hela sure knows how to throw a party. That much is evident as she and Loki stand amongst the sea of people mingling across the expanse of Whitehall Suite, taking in their surroundings. Chandeliers hang off the high ceiling of the room lined by Victorian pillars, its lights accentuating the crisp white cloth covering each and every elaborately set table. All around, servers in tuxes roam about, offering guests champagne and a wide range of hors d'oeuvres, while the marble statue of the Premier League Lion stands as the proud centerpiece of the evening on stage. This event is the very epitome of luxury and elegance – not that she expected anything less from an event planned by someone related to Loki. While he insists that genetics and a birthday are the only things he and Hela share, there’s simply no denying that their tastes are identical.

“Can you believe my sister wasn’t going to invite me to this?” Loki fumes from where he stands next to her, looking dapper in his navy pinstripe suit and his hair slicked back.

“You and I both know that she was going to invite you eventually,” she says, rolling her eyes before taking a sip of champagne.

“Everyone who is anyone in the League is here!” Loki says as though she had not uttered a response. He points towards a man standing close to the stage, his golden suit jacket contrasting against his dark skin. “That gentleman there? That’s Heimdall. He’s the President.”

“Then what are you still doing standing here?” she asks, waving him forward. “Network!”

Loki contemplates the idea for a moment before sighing, his expression chastised. “You know what? No. Work takes a backseat tonight. I’m here to have a great night with my best friend.”

“And as your best friend, I’m telling you not to pass this opportunity up,” she says, looking pointedly at him.

“No work tonight, and that’s final,” Loki says. “Now, tell me.” He points towards the acrylic stand propping up the poster for tonight’s auction. “What’s our cap for tonight?”

When Hela had mentioned an auction this morning, she had assumed it was for novel, high-ticket items. It was not until she and Loki walked into the venue that they discovered it was actually a First Dance Auction and that bidders would be vying for an opportunity to dance with players from the various teams. It’s an opportunity she could not care less to pursue, and as far as she’s concerned, her checkbook isn’t coming out to play this evening.

“Please,” she says, all but snorting at the idea. “The only thing I’m indulging in tonight is the bar.”

“I can see that,” Loki says, watching as she downs what’s remaining of her champagne before setting it down on the cocktail table before them. “It’s for a good cause, you know.”

“Call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure that I can still practice my altruism without participating in this…”

“Meat market?” Loki offers.

She chuckles. “Your words, not mine.” Her gaze falls back to Heimdall, who appears to have moved into conversation with someone else. She squints in an attempt to get a better look, taking in the dark hair and the burly figure of his new companion, and her eyes suddenly widen. She taps Loki’s shoulder, nodding in Heimdall’s direction. “Isn’t that-”

“Skurge,” Loki finishes for her, the disdain evident in his tone as he turns to see his least favorite client talking to Heimdall. “Of course he would have the balls to walk up to the President.”

She recalls what Loki has told her of Skurge’s antics – particularly the weekend Loki spent putting out the media firestorm that erupted after the Goalkeeper had one too many drinks at his local pub and decided to leave the establishment with nary a stitch of clothing. She cringes. “You should intervene. Now.”

“What for?” Loki posits. “The man has probably ended his career by now. And besides, I’m off the clock.”

“Look, you can deal with this now or you can let this fester,” she points out. “Either way, we both know this is going to be your mess to clean up. Might as well get ahead of it.”

“Are you sure?” he says, the conflict evident in his eyes. “I mean it, Nat, I didn’t come here tonight to work.”

“It’s okay,” she insists, sighing when he does not look convinced. “Seriously, Loki, go put out that fire then meet me at the bar so we can both drink our weight in champagne on your sister’s tab.”

“I love you,” Loki says, giving her a kiss on the cheek. He turns away, only to stop and look back at her. “Don’t get into any trouble without me.”  

“You really think I could get into trouble without you?”

“In that little number?” Loki says, gesturing towards the black, one-shouldered cocktail dress she’d picked up this afternoon. “Opportunities abound.”

“Go,” she says, shaking her head when Loki leaves with a wink.

As Loki disappears into the crowd, she makes her way towards the bar and to the first open spot she can find to ask the bartender for a refill. “Actually,” she says not even a second later, “is there any chance you could make me a Manhattan instead?”

The bartender nods, turning away as she mouths a thank you. In her temporary moment of solitude, she lets her eyes wander across the room, watching all the sharply dressed men and women – many, she assumes based on their build, to be players – engaged in conversation over half-finished drinks. She’s far from a stranger to these types of events, but for the first time, she’s happy to be a mere spectator instead of the one pulling the strings behind the curtain.

“Your Manhattan, miss,” the bartender says, setting down the coupe containing the amber-colored cocktail before her.

“Thanks,” she says, lifting her drink to her lips as the bartender leaves.  

“Someone willingly ordering bourbon in England. I have seen it all.”

Her ears perk up in intrigue at the comment – particularly at the low rumble of the American accent it’s uttered in – and when she turns, she sees that it’s come from a man in a dark gray suit, his penny-tinted glasses shining underneath the lights. She shrugs. “I figured it would even out all the tea I’ve been drinking.”

“Well, you’re much better at assimilation than I am.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You just admitted to willingly drinking the hot brown water they insist on calling a beverage here.”

“You make it sound worse than it is,” she argues even as she fights the smile trying to make its way across her lips.

“It tastes like a wet paper bag.”

She arches a brow up in question. “How do you know what a wet paper bag tastes like?”

“I’m going to have to plead the fifth on that one,” he says. “I haven’t had nearly enough alcohol to tell you about that.”

“Is that so?” she asks, chuckling in amusement when he simply nods. And though she hesitates at first, she finds herself taking a step back to give him access to the bar. “Sounds like you should order something then.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “You really want to find out about how I know what tea really tastes like that badly?”

“If only for science.”

His grin grows wider. “Science, right,” he says, lifting his finger to grab the attention of the bartender. He, too, orders a Manhattan, and for reasons she can’t quite place, that brings another smile to her face. As the bartender walks away, he extends his hand out to her. “I’m Matt, by the way.”

She takes his hand, giving it a shake. “Natasha.”

“I’m telling you, Zeppola’s on 7th has the best cannolis in the city. If you haven’t had them, you’re missing out.”

It only takes halfway through their first round of Manhattans for the conversation to take off between them. What starts as a dissection of the things England does better than the States, eventually morphs into not only them ordering another drink, but also Matt delving into the things he does miss about home – the cannolis from his favorite hole-in-the-wall bakery in Hell’s Kitchen coming second only to his friends and family. She likes to think it’s Matt’s quick on his feet wit and the no-fuss attitude he exudes as he casually leans an arm against the bar, picking at the tiny plate of olives, but somehow, she’s not all that surprised to learn that he grew up in New York as well.

“The way you talk about them, it’s like the cure to the world’s problems,” she says just as she finishes the last of her drink and sets the coupe back down on the bar.

Matt smiles. “Watch world peace permeate once everyone in the world gets a hold of them.”

“I’ll be sure to grab one the next time I have a bad day at work then.”

“Speaking of work,” Matt says. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned what you do.”

“Neither have you,” she points out.

“Ah, but I asked first,” Matt says, shrugging. “You snooze, you lose and all that.”

“You know, you leaning into that loophole is very telling,” she says, nodding when Matt raises his brows in intrigue. “It’s very attorney-like.” Matt’s only response is to shrug before he mimes zipping his lips. When his silence does not let up, she sighs. “I do the same thing every stressed-out person you see running around this room does. I work in PR.”

“In sports?” Matt says, prompting her to nod. “Any team I might know of?”

“Are you familiar with the Avengers?”

“The Avengers?” Matt says, a touch of disbelief coloring his tone. “As in, the New York Avengers?”

“The very same,” she says, watching the way his face lights up with her confirmation. “I take it you’re a fan?”

“Are you kidding me?” he says. “Sundays in the Fall were my favorite. My dad took me to as many games as possible. My current occupation might say otherwise, but I love the NFL.”

“And what is this occupation you speak of?” she asks. “Besides being an expert at identifying what tea actually tastes like, that is.”

Matt laughs, but before he can get a word out, feedback from the speakers catches the attention of the entire room, and they both turn towards the stage to find Hela standing at the podium with a microphone in hand.

“Well, I guess that answers my question of is this thing on,” Hela quips, eliciting a chuckle from the crowd. “Now that I have your attention. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for attending the Premier League’s first annual First Dance auction! All proceeds from tonight will go to the Wildlife Conservation Society to support their efforts to protect lions from poachers.” Hela points towards the statue of the lion towering over her from behind. “This is a cause that’s obviously close to our hearts, so remember to keep that in mind when you’re writing your checks tonight.”

As Hela goes on to explain the mechanics of the auction, she leans in closer to Matt. “Can you believe they’re actually auctioning off their players?”

Matt turns to her. “Actually-”

“First up, let’s all welcome to the stage, the star Striker for the Red Devils, Matt Murdock!”

Her eyes widen at Hela’s words, and before her, Matt’s expression turns into a cross between a smirk and a cringe. “So, about my job…”

She watches in both amusement and disbelief as Matt leaves to make his way towards Hela just as the crowd cheers him on. As he does, a montage of his season’s highlights plays on the gargantuan monitor above the stage, the reel ending in a game-winning bicycle kick.

“I am so sorry I took so long,” she hears someone say, and it isn’t until Loki’s towering over her, his expression aggrieved, that she realizes he’s returned. “Skurge was being a total-” He pauses before he can say anything else, sighing deeply. “Not important. Anyway. Was that Matt Murdock I saw you talking to?”

“Uh huh,” she says, quickly looking back at the stage to see Matt now standing next to Hela.

“For those of you who don’t know, Matt here is from across the pond,” Hela says. “With eighteen goals so far across all competitions this season, he is also currently the League’s top scorer.” The crowd cheers, prompting Hela to hold a finger up. “But there’s more! Off the pitch, you can find Matt catching up on true crime podcasts, practicing martial arts, or taking long walks across London at night.” Hela wiggles her brows suggestively at the last one. “Isn’t that romantic? Now, let’s start the bidding at a thousand pounds.”  

“Leave it to my sister to turn what’s supposed to be a classy event into a total circus,” Loki remarks as hands go up in the air and people yell out numbers.

She hums in response, watching and listening as each bid goes higher and then higher still. And she’s not sure if it’s the alcohol running through her veins or the adrenaline from the turn of events tonight, but suddenly, she finds herself raising her hand. “Ten thousand!”

Next to her, Loki’s eyes grow wide as saucers, his jaw practically hitting the floor. She does not dare meet his gaze, though, choosing instead to keep her eyes trained on Matt, who’s already beaming at her from ear to ear.

“Ten thousand pounds!” Hela exclaims, waiting for a counter. “Do I hear eleven thousand?” When she’s met with silence, she begins the countdown. “Going once… going twice… sold!” Hela points her mallet at her. “To the lovely lady in noir!”  

A few glasses of champagne, a couple of Manhattans... The second the auction ends, she mentally takes stock of the drinks she’s had tonight as she makes her way towards the table by the stage to drop off her check. In theory, she could blame her actions on the alcohol, but she knows just as well that the excuse is feeble. She’s many things, but a lightweight is not one of them. Whatever it is that made her audacious enough to bid on the handsome stranger she’s just met tonight – the same one she’s learned also happens to be the star of the League – it’s sure as hell not what she’s been drinking.

Not that she gets the chance to pinpoint exactly what has her acting this way. The second she hands her check to the attendant and signs her name on the clipboard of donors, she finds Matt standing there, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“You are just chock full of surprises, aren’t you?” he asks, a smile gracing his face.

She smirks. “That’s rich coming from a man who announced his occupation via highlight reel.”

“I swear, that was one hundred percent a coincidence,” Matt says, holding his hand up in promise.

“And here I thought you just liked the theatrics,” she notes, causing them both to laugh. “I guess I figured if a couple of drinks couldn’t get the paper bag story out of you, then maybe a dance would.”

“You’re really not going to let that go, huh?”

“You can’t offer up something like that and not follow through!”

“Then I guess we’ll have to see how well you dance,” Matt says, holding his hand out to her and nodding towards the dancefloor.

She shakes her head even as she takes his hand, allowing him to guide her to where all the other participants are already gathering. Matt leads her right to the center of the room, the largest of the chandeliers hovering just above them. As he does, her eyes meet Loki’s from a few feet away, her best friend shooting her an amused smile as he, too, lines up with his partner. She smiles back at him. There’ll be a discussion about this later, but for now, she’s only too happy to live in the moment.

“Ladies and gentlemen, are we ready for the first dance?” Hela asks into the microphone from where she’s still on stage, eliciting nods from the couples all around. “Then give it up for tonight’s band, The Warriors Three!”

Matt Murdock can dance. If the way he had led her effortlessly into a Waltz as the band began to play was not evidence enough, by the time they’re halfway through the song and he lifts their hands and pulls away slightly so she can twirl outwards, she’s thoroughly convinced. It’s when he pulls her back into his arms, the both of them continuing to sway, that she notices that his lips have pulled up in a boyish grin. “What?”

“Your smile,” he says, “it’s infectious.”

“You’re smooth, Matt Murdock,” she says, looking away momentarily in an attempt to hide the blush that tints her cheeks. “I’ll give you that.”

Matt chuckles. “In case I haven’t made it obvious, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you tonight, Natasha.”

“And in case I haven’t made it obvious,” she says, her smile mirrors his. “The feeling is mutual.”

“Yeah, I think the hefty bid made that pretty obvious.”

“Those were for the lions,” she quips, laughing when he feigns disappointment.

“In all seriousness, though,” Matt says just as the song ends and the band transitions to the next. “I’d love to know more about you. Maybe…”

If Matt had a question at the end of his sentence, she does not hear it. The second the next song begins to play, the soft strum of the guitar filtering into the room, her breath gets caught in her throat, the room around her all but fading as she’s brought back to a completely different night – to the last time she had heard this very song.  

“This isn’t a dream, right?” she asks, her hands falling to Steve’s bare chest as he pulls her closer and they move to the song he’d selected on his phone. “You, me, the last few hours…”

“If you have to ask, then I don’t think I did my job right,” Steve quips, chuckling when she looks witheringly at him. But then his thumbs are rubbing soothing circles against her hips, over the material of his shirt. “Yes, this is real.”

“Good,” she says, smiling up at him, “because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”

“Good,” he echoes, “because I wasn’t planning on letting you go.”

Despite the many things she wants to say, the words evade her. How could she possibly, in this moment, accurately depict how effervescent and fearless she feels in his arms, under his reverent gaze. What combination of words could capture all of that? There is none, but more importantly, she realizes that there doesn’t need to be. For there isn’t a narrative that she needs to take control of here. No watchful eyes they need to evade. This moment is theirs and solely theirs, and the feeling in her gut right now – the unmistakable certainly she has for her feelings for him – she doesn’t need to voice it because it’s reflected in his eyes too, clear as day. So instead, she brings her hands up, cupping his face as she pushes up on her tiptoes to capture his lips in hers.

“I love you,” Steve whispers when they pull away, his eyes never once leaving hers.

“I love you, too.”

“Natasha?”

The sound of her name snaps her out of her trance. She blinks once, twice, another time, and when her vision focuses, she finds Matt staring back at her, confusion evident in his features. She shakes her head. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I asked if I could take you to dinner tomorrow night,” Matt says, his brows furrowing. “Are you okay?”

“I… um,” she says, her eyes wide as takes a step back from him. “I’m so sorry, Matt, I have to go.”

She turns away before Matt can respond, weaving her way through the still swaying couples on the dancefloor. Faintly, she hears Matt call out to her, but that only causes her to hasten her steps as she finds her way towards the exit as fast as her heels will permit her. She makes it to the large mahogany doors when someone catches her wrist, and though her first instinct is to pull her hand away, she relaxes when she looks back to see that it’s Loki holding onto her.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Loki asks as he studies her face.

She nods, letting out a breath as Loki places his hand on the small of her back and they make their way out.

She’s sitting in the alcove of the window, staring out into the night when she feels a sudden warmth envelop her, and she looks to see that Loki’s draped his suit jacket over her shoulders. “Thanks.”

Loki only nods as he settles down next to her, content to let the silence permeate between them for a little while longer. “Natasha, what happened?” he asks eventually, shifting to face her. “One second, you and Matt are dancing, and the next thing I know you’re running out of there like the room is on fire.”

When her eyes meet Loki’s, she finds that the concern in them has only intensified since they walked back into his apartment. “The song that the band played during the auction…” she begins, “Steve and I-”

Loki does not let her finish her sentence, opting instead to place a comforting hand over hers. “Nat,” he says, the look in his eyes softening. “If it’s guilt you feel…”

“It’s not guilt,” she says quietly, running her free hand over her face. “I had fun tonight, Loki, and I hate how I left Matt that way.” She shakes her head. “He didn’t deserve that.”

“Then why did you?”

“I saw the pictures,” she says, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip at the admission. Ever since Hela had mentioned the new pictures of Steve and Peggy, she hasn’t been able to get them out of her head. It wasn’t until she saw Loki leave his phone on the credenza as he went to pick up his suit from the cleaners that she saw the opportunity to look them up for herself. Surely enough, the pictures were exactly as Hela described, and though she’s been convincing herself all this time that none of the pictures she’s seen thus far mean anything to her, if tonight is any indication, it’s apparent that she’s been lying to herself. She looks back at Loki, expecting to be scolded, but is instead greeted by his knowing expression. “You’re not surprised.”

“I figured there was a reason you’ve been acting off tonight,” Loki says before shrugging. “But if you think I’m ever leaving you here again while I pick up my dry cleaning, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Loki bumps his shoulder jokingly against hers, and she rolls her eyes even as they share a chuckle. “I suppose I should be angry…” she says a moment later. “I should be angry that he told me he couldn’t be with me because he needed to focus on his career, and I’d accepted that because we promised that we’d never get in the way of each other’s dreams. But then… Then he turned around and seemingly got back together with his wife.” It’s the first time she’s ever stated the reality out loud, and she has to pause to steady her voice. “I should be angry that he didn’t even have the decency to tell me to my face that he was firing me, and because of that, now my career is hanging in the balance.” A tightness builds in her throat at the words, but she swallows it down. “I should be angry that I can’t escape him. Not when I pick up my phone, not when I turn on the TV…” Mistakes she can handle, she’s made many in her lifetime and has weathered the consequences. But never before has she been constantly reminded of any mistake she’s made – none of them haunting her the way this one seems to everywhere she goes – when she’s trying to move forward. Tears begin to prick her eyes, blurring her vision, and she lets out a scoff. “I should be angry for every reason I just mentioned, but I’m not… I just miss him instead.” She shakes her head. “How pathetic am I?”  

“Hey…” Loki says, giving her hand a squeeze just as tears begin to stream down her face. “You listened to your heart, Nat. That doesn’t make you pathetic.”

“Yes, it does,” she insists, placing a hand on Loki’s arm when he begins to disagree. “I should hate his guts, Loki. But instead, the second I heard that song play… the only thing I could think of was how badly I wanted it to be him standing in front of me.”

“Oh, Nat,” Loki whispers, wrapping an arm around her as he pulls her to his side. She rests her head against his shoulder, and he drops a kiss to her hair as she wipes the tears away with the back of her hand.

“What’s happening to me?” she asks later on when she’s gotten her breathing back to normal.

Loki lets out a long and winded sigh. “Natasha,” he says, his hand still running up and down her arm consolingly, “love is… well, it’s shit-”

“You couldn’t have told me that sooner?” she deadpans.

Loki gives her side a poke, eliciting a chuckle from them both as she shoves him lightly in return. “As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me,” he says pointedly, and though she knows he can’t see her face at the moment, she cracks another smile nonetheless. “Love is shit. It makes you question everything you thought for certain you were sure about. It makes you think the worst things about yourself… it drives you to do things you never in your wildest dreams thought you’d do.” The hand she has resting on his knee tenses at that, and Loki reaches to cover it with his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It takes a fair amount of madness to fall in love, and yet, people still do it because when it’s not shit, it’s utterly rapturous.”

“So what you’re saying is…” she says as she lifts her head off his shoulder, turning to show him the brow she has raised. “I’m not pathetic, I’m just insane?”

“I’m saying, only the courageous fall in love, Nat,” he says. “Contrary to popular belief, no one truly falls in love blindly.”  

“I don’t think I follow.”

“We know what love does to people,” Loki says. “We hear it in songs, we read about it in stories… see how it changes the people closest to us. Life is littered with warnings about love. It’s why not every person is strong enough to open the door when it comes knocking.” He shakes his head. “So no, Nat, I don’t think listening to your heart makes you pathetic or insane. I think it makes you fucking brave.”

For a moment, she can only sit there, taking in Loki’s words and considering this brand new perspective. Ever since her leave began, she’s been berating herself for allowing this all to unfold, for not knowing better and not making smarter choices. But above all, she’s been disappointed in herself for still harboring the same feelings she has for Steve as though the last two weeks didn’t happen. As though her heart doesn’t feel as though it’s been eviscerated beyond repair and the new life she only had a brief moment to want, to envision – the one where she got to be with the person she loves and still conquer all her dreams – didn’t crumble as quickly as it had materialized.

In all her wallowing, not once, however, has she stopped to consider the fact that while things hadn’t turned out the way she wanted, she still took a leap of faith to set them all in motion. She deviated from her carefully devised plans. She allowed herself to for once, want something more than success. She let someone in, let them see parts of herself that only people truly closest to her get to see. She fell in love – something she’s never done before. And if only for that, perhaps she deserves some credit.

With that revelation, she sighs, though for the first time in weeks, it’s in relief. “Have I told you how much I freaking adore you?”

“Once or twice,” Loki says, smirking. “Never hurts to hear it again, though.”

She rolls her eyes, pulling him into a tight embrace nonetheless. “Thank you,” she whispers, to which Loki mumbles something about not mentioning it. And though this isn’t the first time she’s felt grateful to have him in her life, she finds herself thanking her lucky stars that their paths have crossed in this lifetime just the same.

“Speaking of being brave, though,” she says, letting out a sigh when they eventually pull away. “I think it’s time I face the music.”

“What are you going to do?” Loki asks.

“I am going to enjoy my last two days here with my best friend,” she says, smiling at the look of approval Loki gives her. “And then I’m going to go home and do what I should have been doing from the start.” She shrugs. “I may not know what to do about my heart, and truthfully, I’m not sure there’s a quick fix. But what I do know is that I can still prove to everyone that I am still the right person for this promotion.”

Loki smiles. “And don’t they dare forget it.”

There wasn’t time to give Pepper the speech she had rehearsed repeatedly in her head since she boarded the plane back to New York. Nor was there time to discuss the million and one requests from the press for comment about the Ravagers beating the Avengers on the latter’s return from bye-week, marking not only the team’s second loss in a row, but also endangering their playoff chances. There wasn’t time at all to ease back into her job. The second she walked back into HQ and into Pepper’s office, the look on her boss’ face made it clear that there was a more pressing situation that needed to be triaged.  

The situation in question came in the form of the Pro Bowl Game, the one time a year fans got to see all-star players from across the league compete against each other in an exhibition game to remember. This season’s game was supposed to be held at Baxter Stadium – home to the Illuminati, the current Super Bowl champions – but a sudden electrical malfunction at their grounds had taken a wrecking ball to those plans. Why the league would award the event to a venue whose electrical grid is powered by an experimental conductor was beyond her, but based on the desperate tone of Commissioner Coulson on the other end of Pepper’s line, all but begging the Avengers to host the game at Marvel Stadium, she knew that there was no use in pointing out the obvious oversight.

And so began her craziest work week to date. There were promos to edit, a media campaign across the social platforms to roll out, and so many more logistical nightmares that needed alleviating that by time game day rolled around, the only thing keeping her, Darcy, and Wanda on their feet were caffeine and sheer will.

As she leans against the railing though, looking down at the main concourse of the stadium where a mix of fans, players, staff, and families stand huddled around the various booths and concession stands, she can’t help but feel a surge of pride for all the hard work she and her team have put in.

“We actually pulled it off.”

The statement comes from Wanda, and she turns to see her coworker also watching the scene unfolding beneath them in disbelief. She chuckles. “Is that surprise I hear?”

“Are you telling me you aren’t surprised?” Wanda asks, gesturing wildly towards the concourse. “We just pulled off a last-minute Pro Bowl switch. Do you know how badass that makes us?”

Despite the cool façade she’s been trying to keep, Wanda’s words cause her lips to tug up in a wide grin. Cramming what the Illuminati’s PR team had a month to prepare for in a week was always going to be a Herculean effort. Nevertheless, their team wasn’t deterred. She smirks. “We are pretty badass, aren’t we?”

“Hell yeah,” Wanda says before nodding towards one of the booths. “I can’t wait to hear what the boss has to say.”

Her eyes wander towards the cotton candy stand to see Pepper in line with a bouncing Morgan in tow. While the success of this event was always a priority for her, a part of her has to admit that she was also glad that despite everything that’s occurred and all they were yet to discuss, Pepper had entrusted her to spearhead this initiative. It's for that reason that she doesn’t push back when Pepper mentions that their impending conversation can wait until after the game, and why she’s been willing to forgo precious sleep in the name of ensuring the team didn’t fumble this event.

“Yeah…” she says, watching as someone approaches Pepper just as she and Morgan reach the front of the line. When she recognizes the long brunette locks of Daisy Johnson, her brows immediately furrow in confusion. “Isn’t Grant our Marketing rep today?”

“He is,” Wanda confirms, following her gaze. “Oh, Daisy’s probably here to ask about Fitz’ shoot tomorrow.”

“The one for Stark Tech?” she says, recalling one of the last few meetings she had prior to going on leave where they discussed Fitz becoming the new face for the latest smartphone Tony was launching. “Since when does Daisy handle shoots?”

“Pepper had brought her in while you were on leave to help ease the workload between Darcy and me,” Wanda says. “She’s doing really well, actually-” The sound of her phone ringing cuts Wanda off, prompting her to reach into her pocket. She looks at the screen before sighing. “I’m sorry, it’s my mom. She’s probably already here with my boys.”

“Go,” she says with a smile, “I’ll meet you in the box.”

As Wanda leaves, she turns and makes her way into the awaiting elevator, taking her phone out just as the doors close and it begins to descend. She peruses her calendar, taking in the events she has listed, and surely enough, she sees the cancellation notice on the Stark Tech shoot along with a note from Pepper informing her that Daisy’s been assigned to run point. She rolls her lips, trying to quash the disappointment that falls over her. Ever since she returned from leave, her focus has been solely on the Pro Bowl game that she hadn’t even noticed the project had been pulled from her.

The elevator dings as it arrives at the ground floor, but her eyes remain trained on her phone as she exits and continues to search for what else she may have missed. She’s so engrossed in her task that it isn’t until her phone practically flies out of her hand that she realizes she’s walked right into someone.

“Shit,” she mutters at the same time the person apologizes, and though she’s vaguely aware of the person reaching down to pick her phone up, she freezes. It’s been weeks since she’s last heard the low rumble of that voice. Nevertheless, she recognizes it just the same, and when she looks down, she finds Steve, already clad in his uniform, picking up her phone.  

It’s not as though she didn’t expect to see him here. Not only is this game being hosted in the Avengers’ home field, but it’s also meant for the best of the best in the league, and with the second-best passing record so far this season, he fits the bill squarely. But for the first time in weeks, work has consumed nearly all of her mental real estate that she’d almost forgotten that inevitably, she would have to face him, too.

“Doesn’t look like there’s any damage,” Steve says, still inspecting her phone from where he’s kneeling on the ground.

She squares her shoulders. “Good to know.”

The second the words leave her mouth, Steve’s head whips up, his eyes filling with surprise when he sees her standing over him. “Natasha.”

“Hi, Steve,” she says quietly, giving him a single nod.

Steve’s eyes never once leave hers as he rises to his feet. “You dyed your hair.”

“I did, yeah,” she says, before nodding towards her phone. “Can I have that back?”

“Right, of course,” he says, handing her the phone.

She mumbles a thank you as she slips the phone back into her jacket pocket. “I should get going.”

“Natasha, wait,” Steve says just as she turns to leave. “Please.”

For a split second, she hesitates, before ultimately deciding to turn back. She crosses her arms over her chest. “Is there something I can help you with, Steve?”

“No,” he says, his expression a cross between conflicted and taken aback. “I just… How are you?”

“Steve,” she says, an exasperated breath falling from her lips. “It’s fine, okay? You don’t have to do this-”

“But I do, Nat,” Steve says, cutting her off. “Look, I know you were placed on leave and I-”

Relief floods her entire being when she suddenly feels a pair or arms wrap around her legs, and she looks down to find a pair of big brown eyes staring up at her. “There’s my guy!” she coos as she bends down to scoop Nathaniel, Clint’s youngest son, into her arms. “Look how big you’ve gotten!”

“And so much faster,” someone chides, and she looks up to see Laura, Clint’s wife, approaching with Clint and their older children, Cooper and Lila, not far behind. Laura wraps her arms around her, pulling her close. “There she is!” Laura all but squeals. “It’s so good to see you, Nat! Love the new hair!”

“Thank you,” she says, returning the hug. “It’s so good to see you too, Laura.” As they pull away, she shoots Clint a smile, who in return nods his hello, before she gestures towards Steve. “Oh, Laura, I don’t know if you’ve already met, but this is Steve Rogers, the Avengers’ Quarterback.”

“We met a few times after games,” Laura says, walking around her to give Steve a one-armed hug. “Nice to see you again, Steve.”

“Likewise,” Steve says.

Silence befalls them, but luckily not for long as Darcy’s voice, loud and thunderous, comes over the PA a second later. “All players report to the tunnel, I repeat, all players report to the tunnel!”

“And that’s our cue,” Clint says. “Come on, Cap, we better go before Darcy hunts us down.”

Steve nods even as his gaze remains trained on her. The look on his face is one she can’t quite put her finger on, so she settles for a simple, “Goodluck.”

“Thanks,” Steve says before he and Clint make their way towards the field.

“All right,” she says, turning back to Laura and the rest of the Barton clan once Steve and Clint are out of sight. “Who’s ready to go up to the box?”

“Do they have those snacks up there too?” Cooper asks, pointing a thumb over his shoulder and in the direction of the kettle corn and cotton candy stands.

“Cooper Barton, have I ever let you down?” she opines.

“Never!” comes the reply of all four of the Bartons surrounding her, eliciting a laugh from all of them as they make their way towards the executive box.

Two touchdown passes from Steve to Johnny Storm, the Illuminati’s wide receiver, put the NFC division up over the AFC by the time the halftime whistle blows. The match starts feistier than is typical for an exhibition game, mainly because John Walker, the outside linebacker for the AFC who’s known for being quite the hothead, can never seem to take it down a notch. Things settle once the referees issue the AFC a ten-yard penalty after Walker intentionally tripped Pietro on a run, and if she’s being honest, so does the interest of most people in the executive box in the game itself. It’s especially the case for her and Laura, the both of them having sat through enough of these matches that the yearly event had lost its luster long ago in their eyes.

“I can’t believe Nathaniel is four already,” she says, shaking her head in disbelief as she watches the boy stand alongside his siblings and Wanda’s sons, Billy and Tommy, the five of them watching the halftime festivities unfold down on the field through the large glass windows. “Feels like it was just yesterday when I posted his birth announcement on the Avengers’ Instagram page.”

“I can’t believe it’s been almost half a decade since Clint joined the Avengers,” Laura says.

“Clint was my first ever assignment,” she recalls. “It’s still crazy to me that he chose me, a rookie, to be his publicist.”

“And thank God he did,” Laura says, bumping her shoulder against hers. “We wouldn’t be here without you, Nat.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, brushing off the eyeroll Laura gives her in response.

“You’re the one being ridiculous,” Laura insists, her lips parting to say more when she’s interrupted by a whine. They both look towards the children to see Wanda already rising from her seat to investigate the cause of the squabble. Laura sighs. “Speaking of ridiculous. I better help Wanda out with this one.”

She chuckles. “Looks like you’re up, momma.”

“Be right back.”

She watches Laura approach the kids, letting out a quiet chuckle at the sheepish looks that fill all three of their faces as both Laura and Wanda shoot them stern glances.

“You know what else is ridiculous?”

The question prompts her to look behind her where she finds a man seated in the row above, his arm stretched across the back of the seats as he rests one ankle casually on his knee. Intrigued, she arches a brow up. “And what’s that?”

“I think it’s ridiculous that someone could pull together a last-minute hosting gig for the Pro Bowl Game and not have a single portion of this afternoon go down in shambles,” he says, his hand gesturing towards their surroundings. “And yet here we are… As if this game was meant to be played here all along.”

“The magic of a great management team,” she says simply.

“Perhaps,” the man says, a nonchalance to his tone. “Perhaps it’s just the work of a brilliant mind. I mean, how else would an ailing franchise also turn their reputation around so quickly?” He gives her a better view of his hazel brown eyes as he leans forward, as if to tell her a secret. “Clearly, there’s a strategic mind behind all of it, just pulling all the strings with carefully devised media campaigns and events.” He chuckles. “I, for one, know the team over at Baxter Stadium are ashamed to their core.”

She’s no stranger to running into boastful guests in the team’s executive box. Family members of players and staff aside, she knows the only types that end up in this space are high net worth individuals who buy into it for the geotag on their socials and who couldn't care less about the game. But connections are everything in this business, and there’s a reason some of the most consequential deals earn its legs in this very box, so she indulges the man anyway. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“And how could you possibly know that?”

“Because my company runs their marketing and PR for them,” he says. “I know each and every person we have on payroll and know for a fact that not a single person on it could pull off what you’ve just done here today.” He smiles. “I’d like to change that, Ms. Romanoff. More specifically, I’d like for you to change that.”

“That’s pretty arrogant, don’t you think?” she says, schooling her expression into a neutral one in an attempt to conceal her surprise over him knowing her name. “Outwardly poaching me, at my workplace no less...” She tilts her head to the side. “Some might even call that unethical.”

“For those who have never had to fight for every opportunity, I suppose,” he says. “Regardless of what you’d like to call my proposal, though, my company still has a vast portfolio of clients just yearning for guidance, and I know that there isn’t a person working in the industry today that’s more qualified to provide that than you, Natasha.” He rests his chin on a closed fist, shrugging. “Why waste your talent on one team when you can have them all?”

She’s used to people being bold, but she has to admit that the level of brazenness this man is exhibiting is novel, even for her. “You’re seriously offering me a job?” she asks, nearly scoffing when he only nods. “I don’t even know your name.”

Rick Mason CEO, Real Pro Communications

Her thoughts race a mile a minute as she sets the business card down on the desk before leaning back into her chair. She had waited all of five minutes after Mason had excused himself from the Executive Box, citing an important call he had to take, before informing Laura and Wanda that she too had things she needed to take care of in her office.

If her due diligence is accurate, Real Pro Communications really does have the robust portfolio Mason had bragged about, with clients ranging from a good chunk of the teams in the NFL to every sports league imaginable. The mere thought that she could sink her teeth into this opportunity – one that’s inexplicably fallen into her lap – brings a zing of excitement to her that she realizes she hasn’t felt in quite some time.

As intriguing as this new opportunity is, though, she finds that she’s also not completely sold on it. It’s not as though she’s unhappy with her job. She loves this team, this organization. Pepper is the best mentor she could possibly have asked for. Darcy and Wanda, her dream team, are practically like her sisters. And despite the challenges she’s faced in the last few weeks, she can’t discount the fact that this team has provided her with a myriad of opportunities to hone her skill set and grow professionally, trusting her with the largest initiatives despite her relatively short time in the field.

Then again, there’s still the matter of her promotion hanging in the balance. While Pepper had said that their conversation could wait, with the pressing matter of the Pro Bowl, she wonders now how much of it was out of necessity rather than her boss still having the utmost confidence in her. She thinks back to the fact that one of her assignments had been reassigned from under her, but the second the thought comes unbidden in her mind, she chastises herself internally for even entertaining it in the first place. Pepper has always been her biggest champion and their relationship has always been based on trust and mutual respect. If Pepper had plans of withholding her promotion – or worse, firing her – she would have said so the second she walked into her office last week. What’s more, Daisy is as talented and hardworking as they come. If she’s been afforded this opportunity, it’s only because she deserves it.  

The sound of her phone vibrating against the wood of her desk interrupts her thoughts, and she reaches for it to see Pepper’s name flashing across the screen. Quickly, she taps the answer button before bringing the phone to her ear. “Pepper, hey.”

“Are you still in the stadium?”

“Yes,” she says, her boss’ unusually clipped tone prompting her to rise from her seat. “I’m in my office. What’s wrong?”

“Get down to the clinic, stat.”

The call drops, and as her home screen appears, she finds it littered with notifications. The topmost bubble filled with capital letters catches her attention first, and as she reads its contents, she leaves the door wide open behind her as she sprints out of her office.

AVENGERS BRAWL AT THE PRO BOWL

Chapter 8 | Chapter 10

#Romanogers #Game Plan