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lizslibrary · 2 months

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Cute ❤️

Happy Little Accidents

Veteran!BuckyBarnes x Female!ArtTeacher!Reader

summary: In a world after the war, Bucky tries to get pieces of his old self back by joining an art class. He meets you and instantly falls head over heels. Now he just has to work up the courage to ask you out.

a/n: wrote most of this on my lunch break after finally feeling the creativity spark again. I hope you all get a cozy fall feeling.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: adapting to life after war, frustration, a little angst, love-dazed Bucky, just so much fluff and wholesomeness 💕

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

↑ the face of a man too whipped to listen - this is the Bucky vibe today

Steve Rogers was an artist. A lot of people knew about it. Hell, the Smithsonian even had a gallery full of sketches from a notebook of Steve’s he had lost back in ‘45. But Steve never needed people to recognize his work. Just like he never needed all the fame that came with his shield or all the honors he got for doing what he thought normal human decency implied - stopping bullies.

But what not many people knew was that Steve loved his art so much, he even held little sketch workshops in the camps on the western front. He drew each member of the howling commandos with impeccable accuracy. He loved drawing portraits and he loved to help.

Which was why, sooner or later, Bucky had been talked into trying his first sketches back in the day as well. Back when he was still left-handed, back when he found joy in little things such as drawing with his best friend. Back when he was not who he was now.

Yeah, he was bitter about it...

Bucky wasn’t too shabby of an artist per se. He was rather quick with his sketches always able to find the right spot for his next line and even though they weren’t perfect, one could always see what his pictures were meant to present.

Yes, they were crooked and not nearly as good as Steve’s but he had fun with it. Sketching had been an escape for his soul while bombs were exploding only miles away from his camp. It had reminded him of his best friend when they were apart, and most importantly, it taught him patience.

God, so much patience.

Bucky had never been good with it. Always fast, always right away. But the amount of times Steve made him erase carefully constructed lines and shapes had him feel scolded like a kid.

Later, he was grateful for it.

Now? He hated just touching a pencil. Every time he was reminded of his recovery, of months of frustration and anger, of grief and sadness. All because he’d lost his arm, and with it, all that had brought him joy in life.

When he had to learn to write with his right hand, he screamed at the papers before him, the crooked and shaky lines mocking him with vigor.

You’ll never be the same, they said, You’ll never have true joy back.

He felt like a child. Unable to do the most mundane of tasks, whilst fully aware of what had to be done to get it right.

But he missed it. The way drawing would clear his mind and the ease he felt when thinking of nothing but the next step in the process.

So after a particularly frustrating session with his therapist, Bucky had walked through a gallery on his way home. Beautiful pieces, each more impressive than the next hung on bright white walls until he reached a small corner with sketches and photographs. They weren’t less good than the rest, but other than the huge paintings, they seemed approachable - and they reminded him of times far gone.

“Hello, would you be interested in signing up for a sketching class?” An angelic voice had asked after holding a leaflet into his line of sight. And when he followed the hand up to your face, his breath hitched in his throat.

“I- I don’t think I’d be any good…” he had said with a pitiful smile as his left arm raised next to his head, the sleek silver of his hand shining in the showroom light.

“Oh don’t be silly. Everyone can be an artist.”

And that was all it took.

Now he was here. Sitting in a room with about eight other people, listening to you talk. Though Bucky didn’t pay much attention to your words. He was distracted by the way your lips curved when you spoke, and how your hands looked in the light when you flailed them in the air. He wanted to draw you, only you. But he knew he could never do you justice. And that frustrated him a little.

His first task was easy. A series of connected squiggles and shapes. The second was harder - finding and highlighting familiar motives in his work. But when he tried to connect his shapes, his hand began to tremble and the line on his paper got dented, he huffed in surrender.

A look to the front to you talking with another woman and he was getting off his chair.

This was useless. He should have never come here.

But when he moved to gather his things, your voice stopped him once again.

“Oh that’s interesting,” you said with a tilted head, your eyes following the little dent in his drawing.

“Yeah, I messed it up.” He shook his head and added a careful, much more quiet ‘I always do”.

“You see, it’s only a mistake if you make it one.” You turned to him and smiled and his heart began racing now that all your attention was on him. Bucky looked around to see if anyone noticed, but the other participants were all focused on their work. “I’m not going to tell you that this line isn’t supposed to be the way it is. You alone can decide that.”

You stepped closer as he eyed his paper again. “So, Bucky,” holy crap you remembered his name. And it sounded so good coming from your lips. “Are you gonna make it a mistake or not?”

❁ ❁ ❁

That was a month ago. And Bucky had come to your class every Sunday night since then. But now his crush had only intensified.

Every time you stepped behind him to watch him work, his hand began to sweat. Every time you gave him a suggestion, his eyes were so drawn to your lips, he barely heard what you were saying. Just yesterday this had caused him to get into a particularly awkward situation. He hadn’t listened, of course - those stupid mesmerizing lips of yours were at fault for it. And when Bucky finally came back from his daydream of imagining what they would feel like on his lips, he knocked over a jar of water as he noticed you had moved next to him. And to make matters even worse, you had caught him talking to himself as he cleaned up the mess.

Bucky was beyond embarrassed. He wasn’t normally that clumsy, all his moves were calculated. No limb out of control, but when you were around, he seemed to have lost that trait of his - which was actually kind of nice...

He was in deep. And he didn’t know how to handle it.

He was contemplating never going back to your class. He would probably end up ruining somebody’s work and - besides - it wasn’t like he could ever work up the courage to ask you out. It was just all too scary.

“Bucky, is that you?” Bucky froze as he studied the coffee menu above the barista. He was going to order black anyway. But the voice that called out his name almost made him want to pretend he was still studying the sign.

“Bucky.” Your voice came closer and when you were standing next to him, he finally looked at you. And there you were, with a bright smile and a scarf shielding you from the cool fall breeze outside.

“Oh, hey.” He paused, treading, not knowing what to do with his hands or pretty much any part of his body. At least, in your workshop, he had something to do. “...hey.”

“It’s nice to see you, how’s your homework going?” You rubbed your hands together to warm them and at the sight of your delicate fingers, he felt his cheeks heating up when he imagined holding them.

“It’s... well, it’s going...” He sighed and watched his feet as they shuffled on the tiled floor. “It’s not going well if I’m being honest.” And with a shy smile, he rubbed the back of his neck, watching as you nodded in understanding.

“I know it sounds stupid, but sometimes it really helps to just get started without thinking about it too much.”

He chuckled. That was exactly his problem. Because every time he wanted to start, he wondered what you would think about it. And then his thoughts drifted to you entirely and how your neck would bend when you watched him draw over his shoulder, or how your fingers swayed over his artwork to point out the parts you were talking about. God, he loved when you did that.

“-only if you want, of course.” Your nose crinkled when Bucky’s mind brought him back to the coffee shop again. You were staring at him expectantly, your smile growing nervous with every second he took to register that you had just asked him a question.

Bucky had no idea what you had just said. He had been too lost in his daydream yet again and now he made you look stupid in the middle of this coffee shop. There wasn’t much time to decide what his response would be, but under no circumstance did he want to admit just how scattered he was around you. So without thinking, he just nodded with a tight-lipped smile and willed his knees to stay strong when your eyes brightened.

“Awesome! When are you free?” Free? Did you just ask him out and he hadn’t even paid attention?

“Uh, Sunday?” Bucky stammered as his heart began to pound in his chest. This has got to be a prank.

You laughed, and Bucky got weak in the knees. “Sunday is workshop, silly.”

Stupid, stupid, Bucky. “Right, uh... Friday then.” The rapid beat in his chest took his breath away.

“Okay, great. Here give me your phone so I can give you my number.”

“You’re–“ Bucky choked as his hands scrambled to fish his phone out of his pocket. “Yes, yeah sure, cool.” Cool? Oh god.

You took it from him, entered your contact with a little paintbrush emoji, called yourself, and handed it back to his sweaty hand.

“I’ll text you my address.” You stepped forward to pay and retrieve your coffee, gifting the barista a smile that made him blush - apparently, you were a regular because Bucky did not remember you ordering - but then again - he didn’t really pay attention apparently. “Oh, and bring your art supplies!”

And then you were out the door, letting crisp air into the cozy coffee shop, and Bucky standing dazed and confused as to what had just happened.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky stared at his phone for the fifth time now, making sure he was in front of the right door before ringing the bell. He was nervous, to say the least. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was on a date, not to mention the last time he felt this nervous about being on one. He was a strong believer in facts but you asking him out had to be a sign from the universe. One he would only get once and he could not screw it up.

His hands smoothed over his black button-up one last time before adjusting his leather jacket again. Then he rang the bell and not even a minute later, you greeted him with a warm smile and urged him to give you his jacket to hang up.

“I just made tea, do you want some?” Bucky followed you to the kitchen where the faint but homey scent of pumpkin spice filled the air. He watches as you scrambled to find your oven its and then retrieve something delicious smelling from the oven. “Cookies?”

“I’m good with tea for now.” He chuckled in awe at how nice your home felt. Once he could tear his eyes away from you, he peered over the kitchen island into your living room, where many different artworks and photographs were displayed on the walls. Every pillow on your sofa had a different color and the blankets sprawled on it and the chair were too inviting for him not to picture the both of you cuddled up beneath them.

“Alright then, suit yourself. But just know these are my specialty.” You snatched one from the tray before almost dropping it again. “Ouch, hot.”

Bucky felt drawn to the room. With all its warm light and fall-scented candles, hints of read books and discarded crocheting, with a crackling fireplace and soft carpeting. He also felt awfully intimate at the glimpse he got into your life by being here, but he had already declared this place his favorite in his mind.

“Are you ready?” Bucky turned to you and watched as you padded your hands on your jeans, leaving faint flour prints on the dark denim.

“Ready for what?” He smiled again, he seemed to be unable to stop around you. But he was just so happy to be here, to be close to you, and to finally spend more time with you.

You chuckled and set two cups of tea on the table. “For your sketches. That’s the whole reason you came here for, remember?”

You settled on the ground and padded the sofa for Bucky. But he could just stand there and stare at you while trying to ignore the lump that began to build in his throat. He clenched the bag with his art supplies in his hand and watched as the soft material wrinkled in his grasp.

Of, course. He took a breath. How could he have been so naive? Then stepped towards the sofa. The whole thing had been a mistake. And finally sat down with a heavy smile.

The sadness was filling him so fast, it threatened to spill right out of him, but Bucky wouldn’t let this little big dent in the road be shown in front of you. Instead, he focused on your hands when they pulled his sketch pad from his bag. And your eager smile when you flipped through his failed attempts on the paper.

The whole atmosphere was wearing a thin layer of sorrow all of a sudden, and Bucky felt his heartache when you leaned over to him to point out the parts you liked the most. Your perfume seemed just that much sweeter as if it were mocking him all of a sudden.

He didn’t listen. He just watched you with the same longing he’s had ever since he met you. Back to square one. Back to the distance he had with you before he foolishly thought you had asked him out. Except now he’d lost all the confidence left in him to take the next step.

Bucky let the evening wash over him. Trying to concentrate on your tips and examples, tasting the tea you had offered to him with the sweetest smile. And before he knew it, he was standing in front of your apartment building again - with a box of those pumpkin cookies in hand and a heart that felt heavier than the bricks he was staring at.

He sighed and began his walk back home.

❁ ❁ ❁

On Sunday he decided that he wouldn’t give up. Bucky didn't know what changed his mind. He just knew that he couldn’t stop thinking about you and him on that incredibly comfortable sofa of yours and the scent of your cedar and cinnamon candle which seemed to linger on his skin for days after his visit. He wanted to play the sketching games he had half-heartedly endured last time and he wanted to become a better artist.

Bucky had left your cookie box at home as an excuse to meet up with you again. And even though he was sweating ferociously when he approached you after class, you had agreed to meet with him again.

He’d left the gallery with a bright smile that evening. Excited for the next time he’d see you again and eager with daydreams on the subway home.

You and Bucky met up every week. Every time, spending a little longer not just drawing and it filled his heart with warmth and happiness. You shared laughter, and, in Bucky’s eyes, a growing connection with every passing meeting.

He learned about your dreams and aspirations and told you about his past, his interests, and his most treasured fantasies.

As weeks turned into months, Bucky found himself drawn to you in more ways than the warmth radiating from your smile he’d noticed the first day he met you, or your talent of calmly helping him in every way possible. He admired your passion for art, your kindness, and your enchanting presence. The fear and the shyness that had gripped him at first, slowly faded away - replaced by a sense of comfort when he was with you.

And soon he realized that there was nothing he didn’t love about you. This was how he got the courage to, on one calm evening spent on your sofa, between the colorful pillows he had been thinking about falling asleep on for weeks, place his hand in yours and intertwine your fingers with his.

“I got something for you,” he whispered between dialogues of the Halloween movie playing on TV, watching as your eyes aimed up at him with curiosity.

With reluctance, he peeled himself out of the warm blanket you shared and trudged to the sketchbook hidden in his bag. The initial idea had been dipped in silly confidence. But it was too late to back out now. He’d already told you about it.

So despite his nervous heartbeat, Bucky came back to the sofa and handed you the book.

“Open it,” he nudged when you carefully inspected the black leather binding, unaware of the confession hidden beneath.

And when you did, he felt he could read every expression on your face like a poem.

The book was filled with sketches of you. The first pages were scattered in hasty pencil drawings, misplaced lines, and unintentional dents. Then followed the section in which he had tried to pay attention to detail. The curve of your nose or the arch of your fingers when they pointed at his artwork. He could see them now, hovering over the sketches himself, and when you turned to the last page of the section, he could see the striking resemblance between them. And so did you. On the next turn, you revealed the latest portraits he’d added to the book - finally confident enough to attempt doing what he saw you as justice, to finally look past his mistakes - or happy little accidents as you called them - and just try it.

Bucky had discovered that your weekly sketch sessions had done him good. And that you had secretly given him back what he had mourned after for so long.

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you from the moment we met.” He whispered still, too afraid to break the moment you’d just created. “Thought it was time for me to tell you.”

Your eyes were glassy when you tore them from the pages in your hand, a shaky laugh escaping your lips when Bucky beamed down at you. “You did all of this for me-”

“Because of you,” he corrected and wiped a lonely tear from your cheek. “I never thought I could get the joy of drawing back until you showed me how.”

Bucky leaned in closer until your noses touched. “How to be less critical of myself.” He closed his eyes and let his hand linger on your skin. “And how to welcome a mistake by making it an accident-”

And before he could finish that sentence, he felt your lips press to his and your warm hands wrap around his neck to pull him into your body. Bucky shivered in excitement, letting his hands trail down your back and falling into the soft cushions of your sofa while he pressed you to his chest protectively.

He sighed into the kiss, feeling his heart burn with excitement.

Fascinating, how fast a mistake can turn into a happy little accident.

I love you Bob Ross <3

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lizslibrary · 7 months

Text

🤯

Muse

Summary: You convince Bucky to go to an exclusive art event with you, and he paints something beautiful

word count: 2627

warnings: minor swearing, and lots of fluff - as always

《《《》》》

“What do you mean you can’t come?” you asked your brother incredulously.

Steve shrunk inwards, upset with himself for disappointing you. “I’m sorry, you know I wanted to, but this assignment is due in two days and I need to finish it.”

You sighed, conflicting emotions taking over. You understood where he was coming from, being a student yourself, but you were really looking forward to this time with your big brother.

“The spots are reserved for us, Stevie. I can’t just show up on my own,” you explained, giving him your infamous sad eyes.

“C’mon, kid. You’re killing me here,” groaned Steve. “Maybe you could convince Bucky. He was invited, after all.”

You stared at him like he just told you he saw an alien on his way to the gym. “He doesn’t even like me, I doubt he’ll come to an art event with me.”

Steve laughed. “He likes you, he’s just a private person. Besides, he’s an art major, for crying out loud. I’m sure you could convince him to go.”

“Fine,” you huffed, getting up and exiting your room. “But I swear to god Steve if he says no I will drag your ass to that event.”

“Oh, I would love to see you try,” called Steve from behind you.

Without answering, you headed to the front door of your apartment. Upon arriving at University, you, your brother, and all your friends found an apartment complex that rents to students, so you all lived a few doors - or floors - away from each other.

You entered Steve and Bucky’s apartment without knocking, and Bucky looked up from his book, annoyance on his face when he saw it was you.

Keep reading

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lizslibrary · 9 months

Text

More | Bucky Barnes (Mob AU)

mob!bucky barnes x f!reader ✧ oneshot

Summary: You're the secretary to one of the most powerful mob bosses in the country, and that's what he was supposed to stay—your boss. The heart often has other plans. Now, you're in a race against time to save the life of James Barnes, the mob boss who has become so much more.

A/N: Longer one today, just as angsty as I'm used to. I write better with the more angst I do and you can't tell me any different. As always, let me know if you have any requests or comments because I love you all! Keep those dreams alive 🤍

Warnings: mob!bucky, vioence, angst, fluff throughout (because I'm really trying here), secretary!reader, mentions of past abuse in relationship, protective bucky

Word Count: 13,122

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

I have to make it. I have to.

"Come on, come on, come on," I breathe out, drumming my nails nervously against my steering wheel and peering around the car in front of me.

He's not answering his phone. I have to make it in time.

I take my lip between my teeth, the anxiety in my chest only rising as each second ticks by. Finally I swear under my breath and swerve around the car before me, slamming the gas pedal to the floor. A chorus of honks rises around me but I don't care. All I know is that he's going to die.

My boss is going to die if I don't make it.

You may be wondering to yourself, how did a meagerly-paid secretary end up breaking traffic laws and nearly crashing her boss's brand new Tesla just to get to him in time? Why would I even bother? Why would his life be in danger in the first place?

Well, to understand that, I'm going to have to take you back to where my life of crime began.

If my mother ever heard I had a life of crime, she'd kill me herself, so let's keep this one between us.

|||

2 Years Prior

"I'm sorry sir, but you don't have an appointment and Mr. Barnes is full for today," I repeat, quickly losing my ever-bearing patience with the brash business man before me.

His eyes dart around my desk and to the office of my boss, CEO James Barnes. I've only worked here for a few months and yet being his personal secretary is proving more difficult than I imagined.

"Look sweetheart, just let me through and I won't take but a few minutes of his time," the man pushes, not even sparing me a glance as he walks around my desk. I shoot to my feet and step in his way, not hearing the office door open behind me.

"You can either see yourself out, or I can have someone help you. Either way, sir, you're not seeing Mr. Barnes today." I assert, my heart pounding and blood boiling in indignation.

If there's one thing I've learned in my time working in Corporate America, it's that most rich and powerful men think they're so far above the rest of the world that they're entitled to open doors wherever they go. Thankfully, my boss is one of the better ones.

Definitely better than this tool in front of me. I almost scoff in disbelief when the man goes to step around me again.

"You don't scare me, sweetheart. I'm just gonna-"

I step directly in front of his path, my eyes flashing with anger.

"Either you leave right now, or I'll personally make sure you'll never get a time slot with my boss. And it's Ms. Y/L/N, not sweetheart" I grit out, standing my ground and leveling my glare at the man.

"Who do you think you-"

I feel the warmth of his presence before he even says a word.

"Do you feel a need for career-suicide, or are you just incompetent?" A dark, rough voice sounds behind me, cutting off the business man.

As my boss steps beside me, the heat of his presence washes over me and I don't even need to look over to know that his menacing face is on display. I can see it's impact in the business man's sudden desire to leave.

"Uh, I-I am so sorry sir. I'll be on my way."

As he scurries to the elevator, I feel my cheeks heat as I look over at James. His dark hair is cut short but is left long enough to be perfectly messy. His bright blue eyes are already piercing into my exhausted ones.

"Sorry for the commotion, sir. I'll try to handle them quicker next time," I start, but my nerves are lessened by the slightly impressed look upon James' features.

"I've never seen you get angry before," my boss notes, making more heat crawl up my neck.

"Yeah well, I used to let everyone use me as their doormat, but I don't let people walk all over me anymore." I respond with half of a laugh. He hums at that, his eyes trained on me.

I break the contact first, turning around suddenly to my desk to avoid the way his eyes seem to burn the air between us to nothing.

"Miss Y/L/N, can I have a word with you in my office?" He speaks again after a few agonizing moments of silence. My hands freeze and I slowly turn around to find his gaze inquisitive.

"Of course, boss" I reply, clasping my hands together to hide the way they tremble slightly. James Barnes is quite possibly the most terrifying person I've ever met, and yet the more time I spend in this job the less he scares me.

When follow his gesture to walk before him to his office, he slips his hand to the small of my back as I enter and I swear my skin sets on fire. I hurry away from his touch and into a chair as fast as I can. There's a slight hint of amusement upon his features as he settles back in his massive chair, eying me from across the desk.

"Is...is everything alright, sir?" I question after a minute of the thick silence. He sits straighter at this, leaning his forearms on his desk and clasping his hands together.

"Do you have a criminal record, Miss Y/L/N?"

His question startles me so much that it takes me a moment to respond.

"I'm...sorry?" I question, not understanding where this is going.

"Anything at all," James continues as if I didn't say a word, "Petty theft, aggravated assault, murder-"

"Sir I definitely don't have a criminal record," I cut in, my heart beginning to increase in speed. James nods, his blue eyes pinning me to the spot.

"Good, that makes you unsuspecting," he states, only heightening my confusion, "In order for you to be of best use, not to mention safe, it's best if you know exactly what it is that I do."

I sit completely dumbstruck and left with no response at all. My mouth opens and closes as I search for words, but I can't seem to find any.

"You've got a backbone and you're an honest, hard worker. That, you've proven. And, against my better judgement," Barnes pauses, his gaze taking on a somewhat softer, almost vulnerable gaze, "I trust you, Y/N."

My heart leaps into my throat and something stirs within me when he says that...that word. Y/N. My name. He said my name for the first time since he hired me. I don't know why it has such an effect on me, but it does.

Before I can stop myself, I blurt "I trust you too."

I do? When did I make that decision? And why did I just say it out loud?

Something in my boss's face shifts at my words, but he masks it with his usual cool, calm demeanor. He sits again in silence for a moment, taking in me and my response before he nods.

"The business I run is more lucrative than what the surface shows. I need someone on my side on the surface level, an associate who can assist me in matters at this office."

"This office?" I repeat, my brows furrowing together as my heart begins to race again. What does he mean by lucrative? And why is there excitement bubbling in my gut?

What he says next would change my life forever.

"I'm the White Wolf, Y/N." my boss's low voice rumbles, his eyes bright and clear, "I'm the-"

"King of organized crime, ruler of the New York mob," I interrupt, my eyes wide and my entire being not comprehending what's happening. I should leave. I should quit this job and call the police and leave. I should be terrified. But there's something in those eyes...

What I say next would start that life of crime I mentioned earlier, and quite frankly I still don't fully understand where it came from within me.

"Sure," I simply say, and the shock that splays on James' face must mirror my own.

"Sure as in..." he trails off, waiting for me to elaborate and clarify what we both know I mean. I swallow down my nerves and go with the decision my entire head is screaming against but my entire gut yells louder for.

"I'm in," I say, this time with more confidence, "Like I said before, I trust you. And I get the feeling you'd kill me if I said no."

Humor traipses across his features as he sits back in his chair in surprise. He plays with the ring in his finger, nodding slightly to me.

"That went better than planned," he murmurs, and I don't know why but I feel like smiling. My entire body is buzzing and my head is swimming, but something deep inside of me is waking up.

I've been walked all over my entire life. That's just the way it's been. I didn't know the difference between being nice and being a doormat for people's convenience until I was well into my life. As much as I hate to admit it, there's something about James Barnes that I trust, there has been since the day I met him. I felt it pull deep in my soul and now, knowing what he does and who he is...

It's time I control my fate, time that I grab my destiny and force it into motion. It's time that I stop letting people walk all over me and be the person who has a voice and a say and...and power. I've heard of the White Wolf as long as he's been around. He may be ruthless but he is not cruel. He's always looked out for the city, taken the scum off the streets and done the things the politicians refuse to. I trust James. And something deep within me is shouting that this is right, that this my destiny, that this is the strings of fate pulling.

And I know when to listen.

"Welcome, Ms. Y/L/N," James announces, standing and keeping his gaze burning down on mine, "To the real business."

|||

Seven months later.

One night, about seven months after the conversation that absolutely changed my life, I'm working overtime in the office.

My hands are dug into my hair and my eyes droop closed. I release my hold on my hair to knock back the last of an energy drink, but the liquid has little effect. I desperately read through the computer screen, hoping to solve the legal entanglement before me.

James informed me when I came into work this morning that some over-righteous beat-cop was looking too much into the business we hide behind our Property Management company. I've been here all day long trying to figure out how to file all the necessary forms to make this disappear and seem a joke. That's taken longer than I expected, though, and at nearly midnight, James and I are still here working.

"God, this is awful," I groan, dropping my head to rest on my arms upon my desk, my forehead seeping in the cool of the wood. I hear my boss's office door open but don't even bother moving. Eventually, a soft laugh sounds that makes me drag my head up and look over to its origin.

"You look absolutely pitiful" James comments, his tired eyes dancing with a humor that seeps into my own features slowly. A small smile tugs at my lips as I sit up fully.

"Thanks, that's what I was going for," I quip sarcastically.

He coughs out a laugh that makes my chest tighten slightly and some of the exhaustion part. Over the months working for the White Wolf of crime, we've become...friends. Well, as close to friends as a mob boss and his secretary can get.

"Come on, let's take a break. We've been at this for too long, I don't even know how you can think straight," James mentions. I shake my head, blinking a few times before turning back to the computer screen.

"No, I've almost got this loophole figured out and we'll be golden if I can just-" I'm cut off abruptly by a strong, calloused hand gently gripping my chin and turning it up so I'm looking at James. My heart gallops suddenly and it takes every ounce of strength to keep my composure against the charge coursing through me.

"Y/N, take a break," he mumbles so soft that a shiver runs down my spine. We stay locked like that for a moment until I nod and pull myself out of his grip by standing.

"Alright" I murmur, breaking the tense, charged moment by pointing a finger at him.

"But if you bring out alcohol on the job, so help me James Barnes I'll turn you in to the police myself," I threaten emptily. He laughs genuinely this time, and it warms my spirit.

"Come on, doll. I've got an idea" he urges, walking out to the massive open save before my desk. I eye him warily and step to it, hoping that the sudden skittering and tripping of my heart at that nickname doesn't show. He's never called me anything but my name, before. Now, it's almost too easy to forget that I work for him.

"You might wanna take your heels off," he suggests, which only heightens my confusion. Nonetheless, I slip the footwear off and walk barefoot in my pant suit to my boss.

"Should I be concerned?" I ask, bringing another humored glint to those beautiful steel eyes.

"No," Barnes says simply, my eyes darting to his forearms as he rolls up the sleeves of his button-up, "I've actually been meaning to do this for a while. You're working for me in a very dangerous business, and although your involvement is kept a secret, I want you to be able to defend yourself if anything goes wrong."

His words settle over me heavily as I shrug my close-tailored suit jacket off and lay it on my desk. This is actually a smart idea. I sure don't want to be helpless should the time come and, lets be honest, it inevitably will.

"Okay," I reply, walking warily in front of my boss who's practically made of muscle, "Teach me."

Something dark floods his eyes that he blinks away quickly before holding his hands up in a fighting position, gesturing for me to do so. I oblige, putting my fists up in the best way I can. He walks over to me, slowly taking a few steps around my body to inspect my stance.

"Not bad," Barnes announces before stepping close to my side and placing those large hands against my torso and turning it slightly, "There, like that you can use the power you have against someone who might have a lot more than you."

His touch muddles my mind and I can't help but feel that his burning hands linger for a second longer than necessary before he steps away and back in front of me. Even as he does, I instantly feel like I'm missing something without his warmth. It's been that way since I began working here, though. Every little touch here and there has gotten me irrevocably addicted to the feel of him.

I'm so startled by the thought that it almost shows on my face. That train of thinking is...is highly unprofessional.

"Now, punch me" he orders. I hesitate, but don't lower my fists.

That's also unprofessional, and yet look at us.

"Are you sure?" I ask, and he simply nods. I shrug, "Alright then."

I throw the best punch I've got, but he dodges it easily and grabs my fist in his hand. Before I know what's happening, his leg hooks around my vulnerable one that I stepped with and he throws the momentum of my punch back at me so that I crash to the ground. I know that if he'd done that little move fully my back would've slammed into the ground along with my skull. Instead, he follows me to the ground and wraps an arm around my waist, breaking my fall and easing me to the ground as he hovers above me.

I know he means to say something, but words must die for him too when the all too small space between our bodies is realized. I can barely breathe and it's as if time itself has stopped. I watch his fingers flex on the floor by my head, almost as if he's going to reach out to me but chooses against it. All too soon, the moment is broken when James stands and extends a hand down to me. I take it and let him pull me up to standing, disappointment and relief mingling in my stomach.

"That move can save your life, especially against someone bigger than you." James says, a little bit more distantly than he was before.

I thank him quietly and watch him clear his throat and walk back to his office. He pauses when he reaches the door and looks back over at me.

"Y/N, I want you home in an hour tops." He orders. I nod, still slightly breathless.

"And if I stay longer?" I taunt, not even knowing where the words come from. He tilts his head at me, a challenging gaze taking over.

"Then I'll throw you over my shoulder and walk you out myself."

I almost think he means it from the mischief lingering in his gaze.

Sure enough, I go home an hour later.

|||

Five months later

It wasn't until about a year after I joined in on the mob business that I realized how well I was beginning to know James.

And how much more he was becoming to me.

"Y/N, can you get me-"

I cut off my boss by setting down two steaming coffee cups.

"Two triple espressos with low fat cream," I announce, before fishing the folder out from underneath my arm and setting it on the desk before him, "And the monthly finance report. The guys in finance weren't finished when I came by yesterday, so I made sure they had it done for this morning's meeting."

James stares up at me in shock for a moment. That shock is still lingering when he says, "And the meeting schedule?"

"Already in your computer, I emailed it to you last night. I also sent it out to everyone who's coming and made sure to tell Mr. Martinelli 10:30 instead of 11:00 so he arrives on time." I respond, clasping my hands before me and giving my boss a light smile.

"Oh," I exclaim, turning around suddenly and picking up the package I left by his door, "And this gift basket came with a heartfelt apology from Mr. Lankov. It did have an assortment of toffee-filled chocolates which I went ahead and removed for you."

Mr. Barnes reaches over and slides the basket I set down on his desk towards himself before looking up at me. He looks almost impressed, which is high praise enough.

"Will that be all, Mr. Barnes?" I ask when he just stares at me for another minute. I feel my entire body burning under his gaze and, as usual, the air is thick and palpable whenever we're in a room alone. His gaze hardens again into the cold, meticulous mob boss he is and he nods once

"That'll be all, thank you Ms. Y/L/N."

I nod and turn to walk out only to be stopped by his voice calling out to me again.

"Y/N?" James announces, making me turn to him again. I don't know what I expect him to say, but it certainly isn't what comes from him, "I think you are too close of a friend to be calling me James and Mr. Barnes by now."

My heart stutters, but I keep the emotion that surges from his words from splaying all across my face. He considers me a close friend, not just his secretary. When did it ever become more?

When did I ever convince myself it wasn't more.

"What would you like me to call you?" I ask, and the question seems all too formal. The corner of his lips tug up and the movement makes my stomach flip.

"Most of the people closest to me just call me Bucky," he informs, and a rush thrills my entire body as I nod and try to keep my smile small.

"If you need anything else let me know, Bucky." I reply, and something darkens in his gaze.

I'm frozen for another moment, his stare binding me to where I am. Phantom electricity skitters across my limbs and I realize how much I have to restrain myself from walking closer to him. It's almost as if he's the Earth and I'm the moon, caught in his gravity and unable to pull away, All at once I come to my senses and leave his office quicker than usual. I make sure the door is shut behind me before I press my back up against the cool surface.

My heart is pounding in my chest. That was too personal, that was all too personal and wildly unprofessional. Nothing that was said was but the way he looked at me, the way I melted in my spot at that gaze. It was all consuming, and I didn't think I could breathe in that room. He's a mob boss, my mob boss, and I'm his secretary. James...Bucky is naturally a brooding, intense sort of person so the way he looked at me wasn't unusual. The way my entire being reacted was.

And he's so much more than my boss, no matter how much I may try to ignore it.

As the day goes by, I try to rationalize it all. In the end, I know everything there is to know about him—what he likes and dislikes, his routines, his daily patterns. It's my job to, but he doesn't know that about me.

If he did he'd know that today is my...

I think that same thing over and over to comfort myself that everything is normal and okay, but it only just makes a part of me sink. It's almost as if the thought that I'm not more to him has the potential to break me.

You can only be broken by things that hold you.

I'm jarred from that thought when Bucky's voice sounds over my business phone speaker.

"Y/N, my office" He says simply, his voice holding that natural authority and sharp edge that it usually has.

I get up and am walking into his office moments later. Once I'm inside, I take notice that Bucky's hard at work on some document before him and doesn't even spare me a glance until the door clicks shut behind me. At this sound, he looks up and sets down his pen. He stands slowly and adjusts the cuffs of his suit jacket. That small movement sends my entire body into a downward spiral.

"You tried to hide something from me, Y/N," Bucky rumbles, and my stomach hits the floor.

I did? What did I try to hide?

"Sir, I'm not entirely sure what-"

My word die out as he stalks around his desk and up to me. My entire body is trembling, but not from fear, when he stops before me and stares at me so deeply that I feel like he's taken my heart straight from my chest with his bare hands. I'm not so sure he hasn't.

"It was a valiant effort, really," he muses, and I still have no idea what he's talking about, "But even if I only know you half as well as you know me, there was no way you could've hidden it."

My brows are furrowed when he finally reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out an envelope.

"Happy birthday, Y/N," My boss whispers, and the moment feels all too intimate as he hands me the envelope.

He knew it was my birthday. That thought sends a thrill through me that I wish I could forget. I look down at the envelope and back up at Bucky who stares at me with the hint of a genuine smile on his lips.

"You didn't have to..." I whisper, but he gives me a 'really' sort of look.

"You do everything for me, and I'm pretty sure my world would fall apart without you. Now open it."

That only makes my heart race harder and I can't keep away my smile as I open the envelope. Everything seems to fade away when I pull out what's inside. There's no card, just a single slip of paper. When I flip that paper over, I realize that I'm in love with him.

Because it's a round-trip ticket to Kinsale, Ireland. A place I mentioned only once months ago that I've always wanted to go to.

I look up at him, my eyes wide and already filling with tears that I refuse to let go.

"How did you know?" I breathe.

"You said it was one of your dreams to go, and it's hard to forget when you speak about something so passionately." Bucky's reply softer than I've ever heard him be.

I've seen him kill people, torture criminals, and threaten politicians. I've seen him command his mob and rule with certainty and ruthlessness. And yet here he is, giving me one of my dreams because I mentioned it once.

I love him. I know it then, and I don't think I'll ever escape it. I've loved before, but never has it felt like this. This is encompassing and devouring and scary. It's real and deep and world-shifting. How much in love I realize I am with him is the kind of love I never thought I'd get. And yet...

I know it's unprofessional, but I can't stop from stepping forward and getting on my tip toes to wrap my arms around his neck in a sudden hug. He freezes, and for a moment I wonder how long it's been since he's been hugged. Bucky gives in almost instantly and wraps his strong arms around my torso, tugging me closer to him. I decide in this moment that this is my favorite place to be. Kinsale might have been one of my dream places, but this, in his arms, has just as quickly topped the list.

All too quickly I realize the intimacy of this position and pull away, no matter how much it leaves me feeling cold and alone.

"Thank you," I whisper, clearing my throat and taking a step back, "No one's ever done anything like this for me before."

Bucky just stares at me with that all-encompassing gaze.

"Then they're all idiots," he murmurs, and my traitorous heart surges again.

This man is my boss. He's the most powerful person in this city and the last thing he'll do is care about someone as powerless as me. And yet...and yet, and yet, and yet. I can't stop.

|||

Eleven months later.

Eleven months later and I'm still just as totally screwed.

I can't stop the feelings that bubble through me, that take me over and encompass everything I am and hoped I could escape. I tried convincing myself he was nothing, tried to fall for someone else, anyone else, but I can't.

James Bucky Barnes is intoxicating in the most wonderful and awful way. And I can't quit him.

That's why I'm here at Angel's Fall, the bar every corporate associate and beat cop or detective in our slice of town finds themselves at after work. I haven't been in a while, not much liking the smell or taste of alcohol, but after spending nearly ten straight hours with Bucky that serve as a reminder that I'll never have him, I needed to take the edge off.

"Anything else I can get for you, babes?" The bartender asks as she takes a stop in front of me, giving me a friendly smile. I return the gesture and let out a long sigh, finishing out the last of my whiskey sour.

"Scotch, straight," I request, giving her a tired smile, "Thanks."

"Sure thing," she replies, instantly beginning to make my drink, "You seem like you've had a long day."

I scoff, running a hand through the hair that I freed from my low bun, "Long few months."

"That bad, huh? Well I'll keep these going till you say when, sweetie," she replies, sliding my drink to me. I give her another quiet thanks before she leaves to her job.

"Y/N? Y/N is that you?"

I furrow my brows, not putting the voice to a face. I turn towards the sound of the man to find him standing beside me. Once my eyes land on his features, my entire being runs cold. Instantly what little alcohol I had in my system sobers out and my blood freezes in my veins. It's as if I've been dunked in ice water and I find it hard to draw in breath.

"Ian. It's been ages" I comment, my voice thankfully not trembling like I expected it to be. Ian laughs before me, leaning on the bar and drinking me in with his eyes. I squirm under his gaze, which only serves to make me uncomfortable.

"Damn right," he comments, smirking at me lazily with that smile that wrecked my life nearly three years ago, "I've missed you, baby."

I bristle at the nickname, my heart flinching even if my body doesn't. I know he's probably missed me, I had to move to a new state to escape him the first time. I thought I'd done good, too. I'd gotten settled here for a while and then worked my way up to a job at Bucky's company. The past almost two years in Bucky's business have been so good for me that I almost forgot my life before it, the reason why I was so ready to take on the life of organized crime.

The reason stands before me, proof that our demons never die. They just hide away until we're vulnerable again.

"What are you doing in New York?" I ask, trying to make polite small talk and avoid the obvious elephant in the room.

The elephant being that the last time I saw him, I smashed a lamp over his head before I scrambled out of his apartment and to the nearest cab that whisked me far far away, leaving behind all of my belongings except for a wad of twenties and my cellphone.

"I got a transfer to a firm a few blocks from here not too long ago. God, you look great Y/N," Ian averts. He says my name again, almost as if he can't believe I'm standing before him. I nod, wringing my wrists and shoving my forgotten drink away from me.

"That's great, Ian." I keep it simple, knowing that if I talk too much I'll lose myself again. I spend my mental energy searching the thickening crowd of people for a way out. I even consider signaling the bartender that I need an escape.

I'm barred from my thoughts when his hand, a hand I'll never forget, skims over my arm. I jerk my attention back to him, ripping my arm away from him as fast as I can and taking a step back.

"Woah, calm down baby. No need to be so jumpy" Ian placates, that same easy, manipulative smile that would bring me crawling right back to him every time stretching across his features. It makes my blood turn to ice and my stomach roil.

"Do not touch me," I command, surprised at the strength in my tone. It's a strength I didn't have before I got this job, "You lost that right long ago."

Ian's shock is not easily hidden. He realizes in that instant that I'm not the same girl I was three years ago when he broke me and used me and ruled my emotions. I've grown and gotten stronger because someone saw the potential in me to handle power with ease, to be a part of something bigger and stronger than anything I'd been in before. It may shatter me to be around Bucky every day, but he still saved my life in ways he'll never know.

I used to see the world as good and evil, black and white. Now, after my work in the mafia, I know it's gray. There's evil in the good and good in the evil. No one is ever truly both, and sometimes the ones you think are the villains are truly the heroes.

"I-" Ian cuts himself off with a surprised laugh, his eyes incredulous upon me, "I'm sorry, when did you convince yourself of that lie?"

"What lie?" I grit out, and I almost slap myself for indulging him. I'm quickly unhinging, though, and I know that if I stay in this conversation much longer I'll break back into a remnant of who I was. I try to swallow my bile at the thought. I refuse to do that.

"The lie that you're strong. The lie that you can survive in your own, the lie that you'll be anything or anyone without me," Ian seethes, his words sickly sweet like unsuspecting poison. His words cut me so deep that I almost shatter right there as old wounds I thought had scarred over rip open. Instead, I remind myself of the strength and control I've garnered these last two years working for Bucky Barnes.

And then I slap my ex so hard across the face that my hand stings.

"I am not some helpless little girl that's still in love with you," I grit out, my tone sharper than I've ever heard it before, "You broke me once, you are not going to do it again."

His shocked eyes are so wide upon me that I almost don't register his hand raising to strike me back until my head whips hard to the side and pain explodes across my cheek. When I snap my gaze back to him, my eyes brimming with tears of rage and instability, I see him open his mouth to say something. His words don't make it out.

Not before the crowd of patrons splits and a hand closes around Ian's throat so fast and with such force that his back is slammed into the bar.

Oh, I must've forgotten to mention this before. The Angel's Fall is one of the bars the White Wolf owns.

And here the wolf is himself.

I'm so shocked by Bucky's sudden intrusion that I'm left speechless as his grip tightens on Ian's throat and he brings his face that's flooded with an icy rage close to Ian's clearly terrified one. No one lifts a finger to protest or stop my boss, because they all know who this place belongs to.

"You touch her again and I'll kill you," Bucky growls lowly, and Ian is smart enough to believe him as he nods quickly.

Something warm and bright twists in my chest at his words, even when I know any normal person would be screaming or calling the cops. I've never seen Bucky like this before, not about me at least. About his business, sure. But not me.

"When I let go, you're going to leave this bar and this city," my boss commands, his tone leaving no room for negotiation, "If I ever see you again, I will not hesitate to slit your throat."

Ian whimpers, a sound that I hadn't realized would bring me so much wicked joy, a sound that satisfies the thirst for vengeance that I hadn't even realized I held.

"Now, thank me for my mercy and apologize to Ms. Y/L/N," Bucky orders, his grip loosening enough on Ian's airways to let him gasp out the commanded words.

Once he does, Bucky lets him go. His hand isn't off of Ian's neck for two seconds before my ex-boyfriend is scurrying out of the bar. The noises resume as usual, everyone carrying on as if a man's life was not just threatened. Bucky turns his gaze, still filled with that icy rage, towards me and it softens in a way that melts me.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

I avoid the question completely, hoping he'll forget to inquire about it again.

"Thanks for that," I manage out, ignoring the burning of my now very tender cheek, "I honestly thought I had it under control but then I just had to go and slap him."

"That gives him no right to lay a hand on you," Bucky asserts, taking a step closer to me and running a gentle, calloused hand over my hurt cheek. The simple motion sends electricity surging through my entire body and I somehow feel empty when he clenches his jaw and drops his hand.

"You didn't answer my question. Are you okay?" Bucky asks again, not taking a step back.

My heart is pounding and my body is overrun with so many different emotions that I don't know what to focus on or how to stop it all. I may be looking directly into those steel blue eyes, but I'm miles and years away. Memories of Ian and a version of me I often try to forget flash through my mind and I can't stop them.

"Who said you could parade yourself around like a whore when you are mine?" Ian growls out, making me flinch back and wrap an arm around my torso.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

My head whips to the side with the force of his hand. The sting sets in with the silence for a few moments, suffocating me and drowning me in my own pain. Then I hear him sigh and walk up to me, his hands now gentle as he turns my face up to his.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry, baby. I didn't mean to do that, can you forgive me?" His words are sweet and his eyes genuinely sad. I look up at him warily and almost pull away when that breathtaking smile tugs onto his lips.

"For me, baby? I promise I'll never lay a hand on you again. I don't deserve you"

"Okay" I whisper, letting him kiss my lips and then the cheek that he'd hit again and again and again and as long as I'd keep forgiving him.

I don't even realize I'm not at the bar anymore until there's a soft click of a door behind me and I register a warm, strong hand encasing my own as Bucky leads me into what looks to be an office in the back of the bar.

I hadn't even realized I'd zoned out. I haven't done that in...in a very long time.

He lets go of my hand only to capture my face in his surprisingly gentle hold. When my eyes meet his, everything seems to quiet in the blue of his irises. Still, my mind is aching to send me back to three years ago, to broken bottles and shattered hearts patched with false kisses and pretty words.

"You're safe," Bucky assures, his face softer than I've ever seen it, "You're safe and you're here. I don't know where you went just now but I need you to come back to me, okay?"

Bucky's soothing voice brings me back to reality and grounds me to the moment until all that's left is this room and him and me.

"That's it, there you go, doll. Stay right here with me," he breathes, making my heart flutter. We stand in silence like that for a few moments that stretch for eternity, with his thumbs running across my cheeks until the consciousness returns to my gaze.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" Bucky asks, taking a step back and pulling his hands from my face. I almost make a noise of protest at the loss of contact, but stop myself. Instead, I just shrug.

"It was nothing, really. Just an ex of mine who doesn't know boundaries," I respond, but I can tell that he doesn't buy a word of it.

Bucky takes a slow step towards me again. This time when I tilt my head up to keep his gaze, something tender and almost tangible crackles in the air between us, tugging and pulling and yanking us together. In the steel of his eyes is a dichotomy of emotions, ranging from a breaking softness to a stifled rage that I don't think is directed at me. It sends shivers racing down my spine.

"Y/N," he starts, and my knees almost turn weak at that one utterance, "I think you're not telling me because you know what I'll do. But I need you to understand something before you leave this room and we go back to our daily routine."

One of his hands hooks under my chin, and his thumb grazes ever so lightly over my lip and so swiftly that I almost think I imagined it.

"I don't care who I have to kill or what I have to do. I will do anything if it means protecting you. Anything." He vows, that rage still lit in his eyes. But when I look closer, it seems to be fueled by something so much deeper, so much richer.

I don't know why the words slip past my lips but it does before my mind can stop them.

"Ian manipulated me for years," my voice is trembling and unsure and so unlike every other time I've spoken with him, "He'd use me as his punching bag and then cry on his knees for me. I was stupid then, I always came crawling back. It wasn't until this job that I learned to stand up for myself."

Bucky's entire body is as rigid as a board and I know that look in his eyes. It's the look that appears when he grows unhinged and closer to losing himself to the rage and carnal violence. His jaw clenches and he seems to compose himself.

"What do you want me to do to him?"

It's a simple question, but in his eyes I can see what Bucky wants to do. I can see it as clear as day and it sets my entire being on fire. I choke up, though, because as much as I want to open my mouth and ask for him to kill him, I can't seem to. He sees my hesitancy and nods, taking a step back from me and adjusting his suit.

"Just let me know, Y/N," Bucky states, sounding more professional again as he turns and heads towards his office door.

A sudden sense of urgency overtakes me and I dart forward, grabbing a gentle but insistent hold of his arm that makes Bucky freeze and turn back to me. His arm is in my grasp and I realize that I'm holding on to it for a sense of stability as I try to get the words out. I think he realizes it too because Bucky lets me hold his arm, his eyes boring into mine and that professionalism dropping for a moment. I open my mouth, but close it again, my entire being trembling as flashes of every horror I endured with Ian overtake me.

"I want him gone," I finally manage out, my voice barely more than a whisper, "Please,"

Bucky's eyes search my face for a moment before a certain softness overtakes his gaze. I can see in his eyes that he knows exactly what I mean, even if I can't say the words out loud. He pulls his arm from my grasp only to take a hold of my hand and bring it to his lips. My heart nearly explodes from my chest when he places a kiss to the top of my hand. My skin is ignited where his lips touched it and I almost can't think straight.

God, I'm so in love him. I love him so much it hurts.

"Done." Bucky vows, his eyes never leaving mine.

Ian's mutilated body turned up in an alleyway the next morning.

|||

Two weeks later

I don't know how everything could have gone so wrong only a few weeks later. It all just happened so fast.

"Yes sir, the catering should arrive about 7:00 pm...yes sir, thank you sir. See you then,"

Once the phone is hung up, I take the pen from behind my ear and check off the catering company from my list of gala preparations. In just a few days, the company is going to be holding its annual Employee and Beneficiary Gala. My last few days have been consumed with making sure it runs seamlessly.

"Excuse me, miss. I have a 3:15 with Mr. Barnes." A man's voice I don't recognize calls out to me.

I look up from my paper, smiling warm at the business man who stands before me. My smile falls slightly when I see that he doesn't seem all too happy at the moment, but I set it aside.

"Yes, Mr..." I pause, looking over at my computer screen and scanning for his name, "Stark?"

"That's me." Mr. Stark responds.

"Alright. I'll let Mr. Barnes know that you're here and you should be right in," I inform, giving the man a polite nod before calling Bucky. While I inform him that his appointment is here, I can't help the uneasiness in my chest at Mr. Stark's grave expression.

"You can go on in," I inform once I get off the phone, giving the man a quick smile before turning back to my work, my entire being crawling for some reason.

The meeting's normal for the first few minutes, but pretty quickly their voices begin to raise.

"You need to be careful, Barnes! Pierce and his men are looking for any in to attack our organization."

Alexander Pierce, that's the boss of Bucky's largest rival—Hydra.

"Trust me, Stark. I am careful and perfectly capable of taking care of my business." Bucky grits back. I lift my hands off my keyboard, my attention slipping to listening to the words.

"No, you're not, you're being reckless. You're getting too close and you know it! She is a weakness!" Stark practically shouts. I hear a sudden screech of chair legs on the floor and a brief silence.

Whatever is said next is too hushed for me to hear, but I'm able to catch the last few words.

"I'll take care of it. You know I will," Bucky says, and the office door opens.

"I know you will, buddy. I just needed to get you there," Stark replies, shaking Bucky's hand before turning and walking past my desk without so much of a glance.

"Have a nice day to you too," I whisper beneath my breath.

"Ms. Y/L/N, my office" Bucky says abruptly from his office. His tone seems...almost cold, unfeeling. And he called me Ms. Y/L/N.

With furrowed brows, I get up and make my way into his office, closing the door behind me per his request. I settle down in one of the chairs before his massive desk, an inexplicable worry washing over me. Nonetheless, I ignore the feeling and carry on as normal. Thinking this to be one of the many previous briefings we've had on the gala, I begin to give him my report.

"The catering company is all set for Saturday as is the decorating committee and half-orchestra. All that's left is to-"

"I'm letting you go." Bucky interrupts suddenly, his voice so nonchalant and his gaze so flippantly down on the papers before him that I almost don't register his words.

As in...he's...firing me?

"I'm...sorry?" I question, to which his jaw clenches tightly.

"You are formerly fired, Ms. Y/L/N. Effective immediately," Bucky clarifies, and it feels as though the floor's been ripped out from underneath me.

I can barely breathe let alone hear over the sudden roaring in my ears. He's firing me, after all this time?

"Bucky, I don't-"

"Sir," he interrupts, finally snapping his gaze up to mine. His tone and glare are so ferocious that I almost think he'll pull a gun on me anytime soon.

That one simple correction makes my heart shatter. He hasn't been 'sir' in I don't even know how long. And the way he's looking at me right now...it's almost like he couldn't loathe anyone more in the moment. Like he doesn't even know me. Like he didn't just kill a man for me.

Like he didn't let me fall in love with him.

Tears burn my eyes as I steel my face and straighten up in the chair, clenching my hands so hard together in my lap that they turn white.

"Sir," the word is bitter on my tongue and I feel sick to my stomach more so than I ever have, "May I ask why?"

"Your work is sloppy and your intentions with my business, both legal and not, are undecipherable. I have decided that the best intention for me and my business is to part ways irrevocably with you, Ms. Y/L/N."

It takes everything within me to not let my mouth drop open in shock. The hurt that flashes through me is so piercing and raw and real that it arrests my chest. I can't...I don't know what I did wrong.

"You're just going to let me walk away," I breathe, my jaw clenched tightly, "With everything I know about you and your mob. You've killed people for less."

His cold, calculating eyes study me for a minute before he leans back in his chair, his features the picture of nonchalance.

"You won't tell anyone. You and I both know I wouldn't hesitate to kill everyone you love and then you." Bucky informs blatantly.

That's when my heart splinters. Because I can see in his eyes that he means every single word. Emotion blocks my throat as I simply stare back at him, no longer working to hide my shock or pain. I nod once and I stand, smoothing out my silk blouse.

"I've lost everyone I love, you're out of luck there."

The lie burns so strongly on my tongue that it nearly makes me physically sick. I say it to make it true, to trick my mind and heart into believing it. I should hate him. I should loathe him with every fiber of my being. But I just...can't.

With tears that I refuse to let fall swimming in my eyes, I stare down at the man who changed my life, who stole my heart and is now breaking it.

"Whatever it is that you've been relentlessly pursuing these past years, whether it's power or money or blood," I whisper, not daring to bring my voice above it for fear that it will shake, "I hope you find it."

Bucky's gaze bores into mine, something unreadable that's nearly akin to conflict flashing through his eyes. Without a word, I turn and leave, stopping only at my desk to grab my things before leaving. Leaving this office, leaving the mob, leaving him.

And as I drive home with silent tears streaking down my cheeks, I can't ignore the gaping, pain-filled hole in my heart. I hadn't realized how much I needed that business, that man. But I have to move on. I have to.

And yet, I have this awful feeling that I'm not going to be able to.

|||

A few days later

It's the day of the gala, and it's all I can do to keep myself composed.

I've been an emotional wreck the last few days, and as much as I've tried to deny it I can't any longer. I'm in love with Barnes, I have been for a while and as bad as I want it to, it's not just going to go away. Losing the job was like losing Bucky, and I hadn't realized how much I leaned on him until he was ripped away.

"Oh come on, you stupid computer," I grumble, shoving my laptop aside as it launches into an update I didn't ask for.

When I woke up today, I decided it was time I start looking for another job. No matter how much it hurts, I have to move on if I have any chance of continuing on with my life. I was job searching when this piece of junk laptop started to reboot.

My attention is glued to my television and the show I have playing while I wait for my laptop to finish the update. I get so engrossed in the show that I almost miss it when the screen goes bright and it turns back on.

"Finally," I breathe, pulling it back to me and typing in my password.

As soon as it opens to my desktop, my laptop begins to pop up a bunch of random windows from my most used apps, just like it usually does whenever it's powered down and back up suddenly. I close them out with mild irritation, but freeze when my spreadsheet window opens up, displaying the spreadsheet I was working on last.

The guest list for the gala.

My heart stutters. I'd done so good all of today avoiding thoughts of the event only for my stupid laptop to bring it to the forefront of my mind. My heart wrenches as I can't stop myself from scrolling briefly through the list of invited guests. Near the end, I notice my name and stifle the sudden rise of emotions that inundate me.

With hasty, almost frantic fingers, I rush to delete my name from the sheet. Before I can erase my name, my eyes catch on four names at the bottom below mine. Strange. My name was the last one added. I know because I edited and set up this spreadsheet and only added myself when I had double and triple checked that everyone had been added.

Maybe Bucky found four more to invite. I try to accept the thought, but my curiosity takes the better of me and I can't stop myself from pulling up the internet on another window and searching up the first of the four names.

Xavier Taft. 34 years old, works for a bouncer service...wait. Criminal record.

My heart stutters again. With events like this, we're always so careful to keep the criminals down to only our own, and I've never seen this man's name in our regiment before. With furrowed brows, I search up the next one.

Lance Salone. Bouncer. Criminal record.

My heart is racing when I search the third.

Amanda Vice. No criminal record.

I frown, my adrenaline seizing a little bit. Maybe I was too hasty, maybe those two were just-

Oh my God.

My entire body freezes when I notice an article underneath Amanda Vice's search. She's a personal assistant, like me. But she works for Pierce Enterprises, the cover business for-

"Hydra," I whisper beneath my breath, feeling as though someone's taken the world and spun it around me.

With trembling fingers, I navigate back to the spreadsheet and look to the fourth name. I don't even need to search it up to know.

Alexander Pierce.

My heart is in my throat as I fly my cursor up to the top of my spreadsheet and check to see the editing history. My eyes scan the hundreds of entries by me until they rest in the last entry, one done by an email I don't recognize.

One I never gave permission to edit the document.

"They hacked it," I piece together aloud. Nothing seems real as I throw my laptop off of me and shoot to my feet, the world still spinning. The two bouncers, obvious muscle with the clear ability to kill.

I know I should hate Bucky, I know that I shouldn't give a damn what will go down tonight at the gala, but I can't stop myself from reaching for my phone and dialing the number I saved to my phone of the weapons dealer Bucky's mob used. The man I spoke with on Bucky's behalf many a times picks up on the third ring.

"Y/N. I haven't heard your voice in so long, how are you?" the dealer, a man by the name Nick Fury, asks.

"Nick, this is going to sound so random but I need to know if there's been any movement from Pierce or his men in the last week or so," I rush out. There's a beat of silence on the other end before Nick speaks again.

"What's this about? I thought Bucky fired you," he points out skeptically. My desperation is taking the better of me and I nearly snap.

"Damn it, Nick I just need to know! Has Hydra done anything unusual lately that you know about? If anyone would know it would be you," I practically beg. He must hear the urgency in my tone because he doesn't question me again.

"I caught word they were hanging around upstate earlier this week, they're not usually over there," Nick announces. I furrow my brows.

"Where upstate?"

"Some place called The Sky Palace. Heard they were there for a good bit of time snooping around before they got booted out," Nick answers, pausing for a moment, "Y/N, what's going on?"

I can barely breathe, let alone work up a response. The phone nearly slips from my limp fingers.

"Y/N, are you-"

"That's where the gala is tonight" I whisper, an aching, yawning sort of sensation ripping in my chest at the sudden realization that slams into me.

They're going to kill him. They're going to kill Bucky Barnes and they're going to make a move on our mob.

"I have to go," I rush out, my voice trembling and my stomach roiling with nausea, "Thank you, Nick"

"Of course."

I end the call, rushing to grab my purse and throw on the first pair of shoes I can find. As I rush out of my apartment and into the streets of New York as the sun sets low behind the buildings, I no longer think about the betrayal or hurt. I don't ruminate that I'm fired or that Bucky doesn't care for me like I do him. All I can think about is that my family isn't safe tonight, and I have to do everything in my power to protect them. All of them.

As I whistle for a taxi, my phone is already pressed to my ear and ringing as it tries by I reach my ex-boss. The call goes unanswered as I sit inside the cab.

"Where to?" The driver asks.

I almost say the venue, but pause. I set up Bucky's schedule for today, he should still be at his mansion upstate getting ready. He always did like to make grand entrances. Even if I'm wrong, it's only a ten minute drive to the venue. I give the driver Bucky's address and dial his number again as the driver speeds off.

"You've reached the voicemail box of-"

"Oh come on!" I groan out, pulling my phone away and ending the call. My heart is racing so fast that I can practically feel it trying to run out of my chest. I feel utterly powerless right now knowing that Bucky could die and I can help. What if I don't make it in time? What if he's already gone?

Tears blur my vision and sudden heart ache seizes my chest at the thought. I shove it all down and keep myself composed as I try his number again, but to no avail. Thankfully, we're pulling up to his mansion now. I pay the driver and rush out, putting in the gate code and sprinting to his front door. I don't even waste time knocking, knowing he's probably in the garage or his room, and dig up the spare key from its hiding spot to let myself in.

"Bucky!" I shout as soon as I'm in, slamming the door behind me.

There's no response.

"Bucky please! Are you here?" I shout again, but the silence rings in my ears.

One quick check of his room shows he's not here and when I sprint into the garage, I see one of his twenty cars missing.

I missed him. He's already gone.

I curse, checking my phone to see that he's running fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, something he never does. Of all days to be more punctual to his own event, tonight was probably the worst. I hesitate for only a moment as I ponder what to do.

"You'll forgive me later," I mutter to myself before I spin on my heels and jog to the key rack by the door. I swipe the first set I find and press the button only to find his brand new, cherry red Tesla lighting up.

If things weren't so dire, I'd squeal in excitement.

I don't waste time with giddiness, though, and sprint to the car. I'm inside and have the engine running in record time. Not one minute later, I'm peeling out of the garage and onto the road with screeching tires. I press the gas pedal nearly all the way to the floor, the engine roaring in my ears as I whip into the traffic.

I have to make it. I have to.

|||

And here we are, all caught up.

I hope you understand now more than you did before why I'm so desperate to get to Bucky in time. I hadn't realized it fully in the moment before, but now that I just might lose him, I know that he's everything to me. I wouldn't be half the woman I am without him and his constant assurance that I was strong and skilled and perfectly able to stand up for myself.

I can't lose him, not when he's so much more than a boss to me. So much more.

I cut the ten minute drive to the gala down to four. My headlights cut thought the pitch black night as I swerve up to The Sky Palace that's teeming with cars and richly dressed guests. The Tesla screeches as I grind to a halt before a group of gasping patrons and a wide-eyed valet.

His eyes grow wider when he sees me step out of it in a pair of jeans and a hoodie.

"Don't scratch this car if you want to live," I advise as I toss the young valet the keys. He must think I'm joking because his gaze flashes with humor.

He doesn't realize I'm being dead serious.

I don't care a modicum about the horrified, disgusted looks I'm getting from the elite who are still making their way to the Palace's entrance nor do I care about their cries as I break into a sprint and shove past them all.

I can't let him die, I can't let Pierce hurt my family. I can't.

I only stop running when I reach the two men guarding the front entrance with iPads to check in guests. I know them both, since both happen to be members of Bucky's mob. Their eyebrows furrow once they see me approaching them.

"Y/N?" One asks, his eyes nearly popping from his head, "Boss won't like it that you're here."

"Let me in, Sam," I order, my chest heaving with breath, "He's in danger, you're all in danger."

The two men's eyes widen and they share a look for a moment before glancing back to me.

"Y/N," the other begins, but the panic is getting too much and I cut him off.

"Listen, you're all in trouble. The business is in danger of being thrown into chaos, and your boss-" my voice cuts off with sudden emotion, tears swimming in my gaze, "Your boss is going to die if you don't let me in right now."

They only hesitate a moment longer before they step aside. Relief like I've never known it crashes through me. Just before I walk in, though, Sam catches my arm.

"I don't know what the hell's going on, but we're already falling apart without you. We...he needs you, Y/N," Sam whispers.

My heart tugs painfully in my chest and that same hole opens again. I miss them all, I miss the mob and the meetings where we'd all mess around like kids. I miss Bucky.

And with that last thought, I give Sam a nod before turning and jogging into the Palace.

Classical music wafts into the air, broken up only by soft chatter, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The gala is classy and elegant and beautifully well-done, but I don't take time to admire any of that. Instead, I race through the room in search of Bucky.

I receive more than one disgusted glare and scoff at my apparel and messy, unkempt hair. I don't give one damn as I try to blend in as much as possible to not alert Pierce or his men while searching for Bucky.

I stop when I reach the grand staircase that leads to an upper balcony, taking the advantage of the steps and climbing a few to see the room from a birds eye view. It only takes me a few seconds to spot Bucky near the center of the room. My heart squeezes in my chest and I almost sob in relief to see him alive and safe. Just before I move to rush down the stairs and towards him, I hear a click from the top of the stair case.

I whip my gaze up in time to see one of the two bouncers from the list, Xavier Taft, begin setting up a sniper rifle atop the dimly lit balcony that no one but him stands atop.

My heart stops. Time freezes. My stomach hits the floor and all I can think about is that I can't lose him.

"No," I breathe, snapping my gaze down to see the gun trained on Bucky.

When I look at him, I see Sam at his side and speaking in rushed tones, probably about me. Knowing I don't have many options left, my mind works in overdrive to figure out the best way possible to do this. I need to cause a distraction, one to catch Xavier's attention long enough for me to finish climbing the stairs and get that gun away from him. At the same time, though, I need Bucky to see it happen, I need him to know his life is in danger so Lance Salone, the other bouncer, doesn't surprise attack him.

Bucky's just snapped his head towards Sam, his brows furrowed and his jaw tight when I make my move, my nerves humming.

"BUCKY LOOK OUT!" I shout, my voice piercing and carrying out over the room. Instantly, Bucky's head snaps up to where I am on the stairs and his entire body goes rigid.

I don't waste time watching him any longer and begin to sprint up the last of the stairs and towards Xavier who curses. He wasn't ready to shoot yet, I timed it perfectly. Beneath me, Bucky sees the gun trained at him and he sees Xavier, who now has his gaze on me. Bucky's entire body changes again into a mode of desperation, but I don't see it. I'm focused on closing the distance between me and the gun that's almost ready.

"Y/N!" Bucky roars, but I'm barely listening over the chaos in my brain.

"Bitch!" Xavier growls, cocking the rifle hastily and wrapping his finger around the trigger. He's too late, because I finish bounding up the stairs and crash into him, knocking him off of his feet and shoving the gun off balance enough so that the bullet he intended for Bucky slams into the roof instead.

Xavier's body slams into the marble tile as I tackle him, but he quickly overpowers me, flipping us over so I'm beneath him. Below us, I can hear screaming and glass shattering, but above the panic I swear I can hear a voice bellowing my name.

I scramble out from underneath Xavier before he can pin me, shooting to my feet and sprinting to the sniper rifle still sitting on the balcony. Just as I hear Xavier get up behind me, I knock the rifle over and send it careening down into the panicking crowd.

"I'll kill you for that!" I hear Xavier spit from behind me, and I whirl just in time to see him throwing a fist at me.

Time suddenly slows, and it's like I'm back in the office that day ages ago where Bucky tried to teach me self-defense. My body remembers the way he grounded me from my punch before my mind does, and I snap back to reality just in time to dodge Xavier's punch. Just like Bucky did to me then, I hook my leg around his and use his momentum to shove him to ground. I crash down on top of him and practically feel the slam of his head into the marble below him.

"Y/N!"

My entire body jumps at Bucky's voice, now close to me. I snap my head around to see him bounding up the stairs, blood splattered across his tuxedo as if he killed a man himself down there during the chaos. I almost sob in relief. He's okay. I melt beneath his gaze that bores down into me as he stoops down to reach out to me.

His hand is inches from me when his eyes snap up to something behind me and horror flashes through his face a millisecond before a hand wraps around my waist and wrenches me to my feet and away from Xavier's unconscious body. I gasp, and the world suddenly goes very still and very quiet as the cool of a gun presses underneath my chin, forcing it up slightly. My stomach hits the floor and I hardly find it in me to breathe.

Bucky stands ever so slowly in front of me, his jaw clenched and his eyes spelling murder.

"Leave her alone, Pierce," Bucky orders, and sudden fear clamps over me.

Alexander Pierce has me at gun point.

"Why? I'm actually quite taken with your girl," Pierce responds, tightening his hold on my waist. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment at the disgust and fear rolling through me before looking back at Bucky. He catches my slight movement and his fury heightens.

"Pierce, I swear to God if you kill her I will skin you alive," Bucky growls.

"See, now we're getting somewhere," Alexander announces, but I can hear the annoyance in his voice. This isn't what he wanted to happen, "What are you willing to give for her life?"

Immediate tears spring to my eyes and I meet Bucky's gaze again.

"No," I beg immediately, not daring to shake my head because of the gun beneath it, "Let me die. I'd rather die."

Bucky works hard to keep the cold exterior upon his face, but I can see between the cracks that he's...he's terrified.

It's only when Alexander moves his arm that restrains me to cover my mouth that I realize my slim window of opportunity. Without thinking, I slam my free hands into the gun that Pierce holds to the underside of my chin hard enough that it knocks his hand away. His hold loosens in sudden shock and I rip away at the same moment that Bucky darts forward and grabs ahold of me, ripping me to him and immediately crushing me into his side for protection as he rips out his own guns and shoots before Pierce can even recover.

The bullet finds its target perfectly, right between his eyes, and it's over.

My entire body is trembling so violently that I cling to Bucky, scared that my knees will give way from the adrenaline. I've never been in a situation like that before, never been so close to death. Bucky drops the gun from his hold and switches his full attention to me, probably realizing just how pale I've turned and how badly I'm shaking.

Keeping one arm secured around my waist, he runs the other through my hair, his steel blue eyes taking in every feature of mine.

"You saved my life," Bucky murmurs, his hold on me so tight in the most protective sort of way, almost as if he's just as terrified as me, "Even after I fired and threatened you."

I shake my head, tears of relief pooling in my eyes.

"I couldn't let you die."

Bucky's jaw clenches and before he can react I throw my hands around his neck, hugging him close to me. He reacts instantly, wrapping both massive arms around my waist and pulling me close to him, holding me tighter than I ever have been.

"Don't ever do that again, doll," Bucky mumbles into my hair, clenching my hoodie in his fists, "Don't be willing to die for me. I don't deserve it."

I don't know why tears are gathering in my eyes but I find I can't blink them away. I only tighten my grip, nuzzling my head into his neck.

"I don't think I can promise that," I breathe, and my next words come out before I can even stop them, "You'll always be deserving."

Bucky pulls away so fast that my heart lurches into my throat. His eyes examine mine so frantically, so dangerously, so desperately as he holds me out from him. His chest is heaving, almost as bad as mine.

"I did it to protect you, you have to know that. Everything that happened before, it was all to keep them away from you," Bucky swears, and my heart stutters at the look in his eyes, as if the police and ambulance sirens filling the air alongside the shouting don't exist.

"Why?" I breathe, hoping on everything he'll say what I think he will. Bucky brings a hand to cup my cheek, shaking his head at me with something almost close to tears in his eyes.

"You're my only weakness, Y/N, and they know it. Everyone knows it," Bucky murmurs and I swear I stop breathing, "If it came to you or the world I'd pick you every time."

My chest is so tightly constricted that I can hardly draw in any breaths. My chest is moving just as fast as his and butterflies are pressing into my stomach in anticipation for whatever is thick in the air between us.

"Don't ever fire me again," I order, and a low chuckle leaves his lips. My humor drains in a second though, and suddenly it's hard to speak without my voice trembling, "I don't think I'll survive it."

Something breaks in his gaze, softens it and turns it so tender and passionate that my skin tingles. He brings his other hand to cup my face to, so I feel completely under his control.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" He asks carefully, his eyes searching mine, "This life will never slow down. Someone will always want to take you from me."

"I'm sure," I whisper, not even hesitating.

His lips are on mine before the words are even fully out of my mouth. My heart leaps out of my chest as I melt into him, pulling him closer as our lips move in perfect harmony. My entire body feels like liquid and lightning all at once and he's the only thing left in the world. One of his hands finds their way into my hair, leaving me completely at his mercy. When he finally pulls back, he leaves a breath of a kiss on my nose and then my forehead before tilting my chin up to meet his gaze.

"You've been more to me for a long time now, doll" Bucky breathes, and a shiver rushes down my spine. He's so beautiful. A smile twitches onto my lips as I caress his stubble-covered cheek.

"I think how I feel is pretty obvious, considering I did tackle a fully grown man for you," I remark, and a surprised laugh rumbles out of him. The sound nearly turns me weak.

"And it was probably the scariest and hottest thing you've ever done," Bucky assures. This time I laugh and kiss him again, but we're both more serious after it.

"This life may not be safe," he begins, his thumb running over my lip, "But you always will be. As long as I'm here, you'll always be safe."

"I love you, Bucky" I whisper, my words a promise. He freezes, something new and bright flashing through his gaze. I don't think he's ever heard those words before.

"I've always loved you, and I always will," he swears, and for a moment my life is completely and totally content.

It doesn't matter what's happening around us, it doesn't even matter that I nearly died a few times in one day. With Bucky by my side, I feel invincible, I feel strong and capable.

"I don't think I can be your secretary any more," I whisper, and his smile is back, turning my insides to butterflies.

"No, I've got a better idea," he smirks, kissing me quickly.

The next day, Bucky would introduce me to the mob as his equal partner.

The King and Queen of crime.

And it would stay like that for the rest of our time.

I don't know when exactly Bucky Barnes became more than my boss, maybe it was always. Maybe I should have known I was in trouble from the beginning, but it's the best kind of trouble. So, if you ever get the chance to do something a little crazy, maybe something you never thought you would, but it just feels right, then you need to do it.

You never know who will become more to you in the process.

5K notes · View notes

lizslibrary · 10 months

Text

Oh my, my heart is WHOLE ❤️

Warrior/Worrier (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night.

Words: 5.3K

Fluff, fluff and fluff and a lil bit of angst. Classic hurt/comfort and friends to lovers

Through the darkness, there's a knock on your bedroom door, so soft, so cautious, that if you hadn't already been half-awake, you're not sure you would've caught it.

Legs quickly swung over the side of your mattress, you stop and focus at a fixpoint in your moonlit room.

According to the big mission schedule hung in Steve's office, you should be the only one at the compound, so you cannot for the life in you figure out who would rap on your door at 3.30 in the morning, but it wasn't just something you'd imagined because there it is again. A knock, not much louder than before, but definitely there.

For a brief second, your foggy brain ponders that it's likely someone who's been sent to kill you in the dead of night, but before you've even reached for your bedside Beretta, rationality reminds you that they probably wouldn't have had the curtesy to knock first - and then it dawns on you.

"Nat," you sigh with a roll of your eyes and let your bare feet hit the floor while you rub the sleep from off your face. It's not the first time she's forgotten the lock combination to her room after post-mission drinks.

Slowly, you walk across the cold floorboards and over to the wooden door where you can hear ragged breathing from the other side of the wall. Hand lazily pulling the door open, you start talking before you've seen who's on the other side.

"It's only four digits and you're panic breathing?" you chuckle but is immediately taken aback when you're not met by Natasha but instead by your best friend. "...Buck?"

He's back from his mission a day earlier than you'd expected and you're just about to crack a witty comment on how you'd told him that Sam couldn't stand to be alone with him for more than thirty-six hours, but then you notice the state he's in.

His entire body is slumped over as he clutches his right arm tight to his chest, eyes droopy and blank, cheekbones dotted by freckles of soot and framed by thick strands of auburn hair caked in dried blood. "Doll," he breathes painfully and takes a step closer, looking only mildly relieved to see you.

"Buck!" you hiss in fear and grab both his cheeks, but his dirty face just drops further, and he can't even look at you though you're standing mere inches apart.

"I know it's late," he mumbles with his gaze downcast, "but can I come in?"

It's as if you don't hear him clearly enough to respond. His voice is under water and at the same time layers above you while you're far too concerned with every look of horror splashed across his handsome face, your hands frantically clutching his bloodied cheeks as you desperately search his eyes though he still won't look at you. "What happened? Where's all this blood coming from?"

"It's - it's not mine..." he croaks with a small shake of his head.

Fear ripples through your entire body one more time and you can barely speak as you imagine the worst possible scenario that might have caused Bucky to behave like this. "Is it... Sam?" you whimper with tears already burning in your eyes, fighting the urge to throw up.

"He's fine," Bucky quickly interrupts with a small nod, "I dropped him off at his girl's place twenty minutes ago," he croaks and finally looks up at you, his eyes more broken than you've ever seen them before. It makes your heart crack in two. "Sweetheart, can I please come in?"

"Oh god," you pant anxiously and reluctantly let your fingers slide off his cheeks as you step to the side and finally let him inside your bedroom. "Yes, yes of course you can come in."

Immediately, he's on your bed, his face buried in his vibranium hand as the pads of his fingers start rubbing circles over his dusty forehead.

"What happened?" you barely manage to croak as you sit down beside him and carefully place a hand on his rigid thigh. "Last time I heard from you, everything was going according to plan."

"I don't want to talk about it," he gulps and starts rubbing his face even more agitatedly, looking over at you with an apologetic look on his face. "- not right now... I just had to see you. I'm sorry I woke you up."

You grab his vibranium hand and bring it down to his lap to get him to stop his frantic movements and he immediately squeezes you tight, letting out another heart-breaking sob.

"It's okay, Buck. I'm glad you're here."

Over the last year, you've seen Bucky on his darkest days a handful of times, and he usually has the same look on his face, but this time, it's different. It's deeper. Despondent and morose, the anger that's usually posessing him om the bleaker days replaced by a different kind of sadness.

Something really bad must've happened...

"Do you wanna sleep in here tonight?" you ask, unsure how to tackle this the best way possible if you don't want him to shield himself off in his room the way he usually does when he's not feeling his best. He shouldn't be alone under any circumstances.

You're half expecting him to protest, but to your surprise he starts nodding, relieved. "Thank you," he whispers and squeezes your hand tight again.

You make an attempt at a comforting touch as you brush over the soot on his cheeks, making a strand of dirty hair dipped in dried blood fall from his forehead. "You want a shower? I can draw you a bath."

He nods again.

"Come on, love," you say quietly and watch as he gulps hard at the sound of the tender pet-name that you've been wanting to call him for months now but haven't had the guts to say out loud until it accidentally slips past your lips. Surprisingly, you're not even embarrassed by yourself. You suppose there are more important things to worry about than an accidental profession of love in a moment of gentle affection.

Bucky seems taken aback too, frozen, and full of wonder, but he shakes it off and lets you pull him to your small bathroom, accepting your fluffiest towel without a word as he continues staring at you.

"I'll be just outside, okay?" you say reassuringly as you turn on the water in your bathtub, making sure it's the right temperature before putting in the drain stopper.

He's still looking at you with huge eyes, flesh arm clutched to his chest while the fluffy white towel gently supports his elbow. You silently wonder if he's hurt but before you can ask him, he speaks.

"Can you... stay?" He asks quietly, biting his inner cheek, unsure if his request is too much.

Still, it's your turn to be taken aback. You and Bucky are close but not like that.

"Stay?" you instinctively furrow your eyebrows, "while you shower?

He immediately clenches his jaw shut and shakes his head while small patches of pink appear on his cheeks underneath all the dirt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, no it's okay," you quickly stand up from your position by the tub spout so you're once again levelled. "- I was just surprised, that's all," you want to smack yourself for making him doubt himself. "Of course I'll stay."

Ice blue irises slowly find yours while the rose tint of his lower lip is being pulled between his teeth. "Are you sure?" he hesitates while sucking in some air, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."

"You're not," you touch your hand to his sternum to underline your words and watches as the crease between his eyebrows slowly reduces as he gradually relaxes under your touch. You can't help but think that even through all the dust and the grime, he looks incredibly beautiful.

"Let me give you some privacy," you unwillingly let go of him and turn away so he can undress in peace.

From behind you, you can hear the ruffle of his tac pants being pushed down his legs before the belt buckle clangs loudly against the tiles of the floor. It's followed by a series of loud painful grunts and hisses a few seconds later.

"Are you okay?" you ask and turn your head to the side, careful not to look directly at him as to not break the trust he put in you when he asked you to stay. "Buck?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," he sighs in embarrassment behind you, "it's just... do you think you could... help me?"

You turn around slowly to find him standing in the middle of the bathroom still wearing his torn t-shirt and Kevlar vest, bare-legged in boxer shorts and black socks pulled high up on his calf while his pants are lying crumbled on the floor beside him. He's awkwardly shifting the weight between his two feet, still clutching his right arm tightly. "It's my elbow."

Immediately, you furrow your eyebrows and walk over to him, taking his right hand in yours. "Yeah, I meant to ask you earlier. What happened?"

He doesn't answer but just silently lets you examine the swelling and black-purple skin that's half-hidden underneath dust and blood.

"Shit," you breathe and hear him give out a sharp hiss when you turn his arm over so you can examine the other side, "Buck, I think your elbow's torn."

"Me too," he gulps, "- I heard it snap."

At the mere thought of the sound, a wave of nausea hits you square in the chest and your stomach starts to churn. You can feel the tang of acid push up on your tongue when you imagine the pain he must've been enduring - still is enduring - but you fight it relentlessly and eventually manage to swallow down the bile. You should be taking care of him, not the other way around.

"We should go down to the infirmary," you say and keep your gaze firmly placed on the purple bruising, so he doesn't notice your discomfort. "I know it probably won't take too long to heal with the serum and all but just to make su-"

"Sweetheart," he gulps from above you and it makes you stop mid-sentence. "Not tonight, okay? I just wanna stay here tonight."

You look up at him, about to protest, but the words quickly die in your throat when you notice the look he's wearing. He's begging. Anxious. Heavy-hearted.

"Okay," you reluctantly agree and carefully let go of his arm while he sends you a grateful look. "Come on, let me help you out of this," you say quietly in defeat and unstrap his vest beneath his ribs, pulling the Kevlar plates over his head while he groans loudly.

"Ah!" he hisses and clutches his elbow tight, squeezing his eyes shut when you try and pull his t-shirt over his head. "Fuck!"

"You good?"

"Mm-hmm" he hums displeased with lips pressed so tightly together they're forming a thin, white line. "Just get it over with."

You pull on the hem again so the dark fabric rides up his stomach, revealing scarred skin pulled tight over the bulging muscles you've spent so many warm summer days discreetly staring at. "Can you reach your arms just a little higher?" you ask and watch how his diaphragm heaves in small electric shocks when he cannot control the loud gasps that escape his throat.

"Fuck me!" He hisses and squeezes his eyes so tightly shut that his entire face pales. "Just rip the damn fabric off," he hisses angrily, "I can't extend my fucking arm."

"Are you sure you don't wanna get it checked out in the med wing?" You let go of his t-shirt and look him deep in the eye, hoping your concerned gaze can convince him that it'll be worth the trip just to get your jumping nerves under control.

"Just... get me out of this thing," he sighs in defeat. "Cut it open, I don't care."

Disinclined, you dive down in the drawer underneath your sink, pulling out a small flat-legged scissor that came with a roll of gauze you bought last year when you had a nasty wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. "Are you sure?" You look up at him as you put the blade underneath the hem of his t-shirt.

Through the fingers you have placed over his chest, you can feel how his pulse quickly falls again when your eyes meet.

"S'just a t-shirt," he mumbles quietly while nodding, "I'm sure..."

Though you want to stay in this position forever, you slowly look away from him and down at your hands as your hesitantly start cutting, careful not to pierce Bucky's flesh with the sharp scissors.

The blade runs through the fabric like a hot knife through butter and you can feel every tense muscle that the edge of the scissors encounters as they travel over his warm stomach and chest. It makes the blood roar in your ears as more and more skin is revealed underneath your fingertips.

Concentrated on not hurting him even more, you keep your gaze firmly placed on his heavily panting chest as you cut open the front of his black shirt and carefully peel the fabric off his bruised arm until he's standing in front of you in nothing but black boxers and socks, his left hand carefully reaching out for yours as if to comfort both of you.

You've seen him bare chested several times before, but it's never been in this close proximity, never been this intimate, just the two of you holding hands and looking each other deep in the eye as you silently try to assure the other that everything is going to be okay.

"So..." you clear your throat, embarrassed by the fact that you have to hold yourself back from leaning forwards, planting a small kiss on his dusty cheek. "- I take it you can shimmy your way out of those on your own, right?" You nod down towards his boxers and he blinks as if he's just woken up from a trance.

"Yeah," he nods and lets go of your hand while the pink patches make a reappearance on his face.

Slowly, you turn around facing the running spout in the tub to the soft sound of cotton hitting the floor behind you. Involuntarily, you give out a gulp and flusteredly grab the box of bath salts just to give your shaking hands something to do. You cannot believe that your extremely fuckable best friend is standing naked in your bathroom no more than two feet away, begging you to stay close to him.

Eyes still firmly placed on the water in the tub, you point over your shoulder to the rainfall shower in the opposite corner of the bathroom. "You wanna rinse off first?"

"I better," Bucky hesitates behind you. "Don't you think?"

"It'll be a much nicer bath if you do," you awkwardly clear your throat.

"Yeah, you're right," he sighs and turns on the shower, immediately stepping inside and closing the glass door behind him so you can finally breathe freely again.

Through the mirror above the sink, you can make out his naked silhouette behind the matte glass and how the tension in his shoulders first tenfolds and then completely disappears the minute the water turns warm and he relaxes. He lets his forehead fall forwards so it's pressed up against the cold tiles while the water runs over his defined shoulders and down his sculpted back, and you literally have to force your eyes away from him and the shape of his handsome torso.

With your gaze fixed firmly on the fuzzy bathmat at the foot of the shower, you hear the sound of your bath gel being opened, followed by a series of painful grunts as Bucky desperately tries to lather himself with the soap.

"Fuck," he mumbles quietly and before you've even voiced a single word of concern, he continues. "Sweetheart, I know it's a lot to ask..." he says a little louder, the embararssement still evident in his voice, "- but I'm gonna need a little help in here... it's - it's this damn elbow," he sighs, "I'm useless. Can you...?" his voice trails off and the question hangs thickly in the air between you.

He wants you to join him.

To wash him.

Take care of him.

The thought alone makes you nervous, you have to admit, but he needs your help and you're willing to do anything for him.

"Give me a minute," you gulp and strip down to your panties, pulling on the bra you wore earlier so you're not completely bare in there. Several times, you've dreamt of you and Bucky naked together, but not like this - never like this - and you'll be damned if the first time he sees you without a shred of clothes is because he needs help and not because he needs you.

With your pyjamas neatly folded on top of the toilet seat cover, you take a final look at yourself in the mirror, brushing your hair out of your eyes before nervously reaching for the shower door with shaking hands.

He's still standing with his chiselled back towards you, letting the water rinse over his dirty hair and down between his shoulder blades with a slightly pinkish hue. "I'm so sorry about this," he mumbles uncomfortably and hands you your loofah behind his back. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Come on, Buck," you say as you dribble a little soap on the sponge, fighting the urge to let your gaze run all the way down to his thick thighs. "Don't beat yourself up, you know I'm always here for you."

"Still," he mumbles and goes silent as the loofah gently runs over his tense shoulders and traces down his spine.

The white soap bubbles work magic on his dirty skin and you make sure not to leave out a single square inch of his scarred backside as you wash him while fighting the urge to wrap your arms around his torso, telling him how glad you are that he not alone came home, but also that he came to you seeking help instead of barricading himself in his room. It seems significant that he's here, as if something's changed between you though you cannot put your finger on it.

Completely lost in thought, you accidentally run the loofah a little too vigorously over his right tricep, sending shockwaves down his broken bone and resulting in a painful hiss falling from his open mouth.

"Sorry," you mumble, and scrub down his lower back, this time more careful with your movements though there aren't any dirty or bloody spots left on either side of his spine. "There we go" you conclude quietly when you realise that the rinsing water has finally lost its pink and grimy hue. "Turn around," you ask and hope he cannot hear the nervousness straining your voice. No matter what, you're not looking down.

Bucky seems just as jittery about his compromising position as you do, and he slowly spins around, revealing pink cheeks and heaving pecs, his gaze glued to the ceiling as he looks as if he's ready to fling himself off the nearest cliff. "God, sweetheart," he mumbles and breathes hard, "I'm so sorry for all this."

"Bucky, come on - what'd I tell you?" you touch the loofah to his chest, careful not to look anywhere than at the sponge itself as it traces over his collar bones and down his handsome stomach.

He merely sighs and stands completely still while you rinse the crevices between the metal plates over his left clavicle, careful not to move his torso so much he hisses in pain again.

"...You're a good friend," he mumbles after a few focused minutes where you've carefully been scrubbing the gold-plated lines in the vibranium, "- I ever tell you that?"

"All the time," you smile genuinely for the first time since he knocked on your door earlier that evening. If there's one thing you can count on, it's that Bucky Barnes appreciates you more than anything.

"I mean it," he says, "never doubt that."

You look up into his eyes.

He looks so soft and innocent as he stands before you, face finally clean, wet hair sticking to his forehead while he professes his love for you. Even if it's just platonic, it makes your heart skip a beat.

"I know, Buck."

"Good," he nods and blinks a few times with heavy, wet lashes framing his cerulean eyes. The air between you is thicker than ever and for a brief moment, it looks as if he's about to lean in and kiss you, but you break the tension by looking away. You don't want to take advantage of his vulnerable state no matter how badly you want that kiss.

"You ready for the tub?" You ask him in a weirdly shaky voice.

He nods while an almost inaudible sigh escapes his lips. "Yeah," he says and turns off the water, quickly exiting the shower before you can take notice of the disappointment burning on his skin.

You dry your feet on the small fuzzy mat, carefully watching Bucky's naked backside as he tests the temperature in the tub by dipping his toe in the water before stepping over the porcelain edge, sitting himself down.

Immediately, he gives out a content sigh, and drapes right arm over his chest, supporting his broken elbow with vibranium fingers, and you finally deem the situation safe enough to approach him again.

"Want me to wash your hair?"

"Mmh" he hums with closed eyes, immediately more relaxed now that he's covered by water. "I don't deserve you."

You grab your shampoo bottle and push out a decent amount of liquid, pressing it to his warm scalp to the sound of an alleviated sigh falling from his lips as you carefully start massaging it into his roots.

"Does that feel good?" you ask through a smile.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he groans quietly, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter awake, "- feels amazing."

You're slowly lathering shampoo into his long hair, enjoying the feel of him underneath your fingertips, how his soft hair slips through your hands while also trying not to think too much about the kiss you robbed yourself of in the shower. You can hear how his breathing slowly steadies and you think that maybe he's in the early stages of sleep but then he unexpectedly heaves a deep breath -

"You know... I haven't been scared of death for a long time," he says so sudden, so seriously that you're immediately brought out of your trance as your every muscle freezes at his austere tone of voice. "I used to not care if I lived or died but... tonight didn't go as planned," he swallows thickly and you can see how his jaw tenses up as his voice becomes husky, "- they... had me."

"What?" you pant with mortification, your every skeletal muscle paralysed as your breathing picks up. You don't have to ask him who he's talking about.

"Sam and I, we were so sure of ourselves," he shakes his head with his gaze fixed on the wall straight ahead. "We thought had the perfect plan... I - I'm such an idiot, nothing ever runs smoothly with Hydra."

You can feel your heart thumping in your throat. "What happened?" You whisper.

"Sam was on the look-out while I got the hard drive," he mumbles, "it was so easy. It didn't even take me five minutes before I was heading back towards the safehouse," he gulps, "- of course it was an ambush. I should have realised the minute I set foot inside that building."

"You couldn't have known," you whimper softly and stroke his scalp, but he doesn't listen.

"- I thought I was..." the words drown in a heavy sigh, and he stares blankly into space while blinking the tears away.

"Buck," you whisper and can feel the pain radiating from every fibre of his entire being when you wrap your arms around his wet torso and hold him close to your chest.

"They took me to a room. Strapped me down," he takes a ragged breath, and you hold on to him even tighter, "I was sure that was it. I never thought I'd find myself home again."

"You're home now," you whisper and softly kiss his shoulder, hoping that he doesn't feel the tear that lands on top of his clavicle. "You're home now with me."

"I know, sweetheart," he leans into your hug with a sigh, "trust me, I know."

"Everything's gonna be alright, love," you whisper against him and stroke your hand over his hair, "it's you and me against the world, always."

"You and me," he quietly confirms and leans back into your chest with a deep breath.

You continue stroking him over the hair, hold on to him for dear life, not willing to let go as you feel him relax more and more in your arms until he starts snoring slightly, finally warm and safe in your embrace.

"Buck, come on," you instinctively kiss him right below his ear, "you're sleeping. Let's get you into bed."

"Sorry," he mumbles groggily and lets his head fall back against your shoulder. "m'just so fucking tired. Been up thirty-six hours..."

"We'll talk tomorrow," you kiss him again and unwillingly unwrap yourself from around his chest, standing up straight beside him. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

He's looking up at you with puppy eyes, gaze slowly travelling down your body and up again as if he hadn't realised you were in your lingerie until that exact moment. "You look beautiful," he says quietly and you half-expect him to laugh it off, but his face stays serious.

"...Thanks," you croak while handing him the fluffy towel, not sure how to react to his sweet words. He's called you many things, but he's never downright called you beautiful before.

"I can take it from here, sweetheart," he nods slowly and steals one last glance down at your body, "you just go to bed. I'll be in in a minute."

"Okay," you whisper and peel yourself away from the tension between you by swiftly turning around, exiting the bathroom.

Back in your room, you barely have time to get out of your wet underwear and put on a fresh set of pyjamas, before a boxer-clad Bucky joins you on the bed.

"Are you still okay with me staying the night?" He asks, nervously.

"Of course I am," you answer immediately and find his vibranium hand underneath the covers, lacing your fingers between his as you scan his weary features. "See if you can get some sleep, okay? You need it," you brush a strand of wet hair away from his face and make sure he's fine by gently cupping his cheek before closing your eyes, hoping he's following your lead, doing the same.

The dark room goes completely quiet for a few minutes where the only audible sound is of your synchronised breathing.

You can feel yourself grow impossibly tired too as you lie there hand in hand with Bucky, and you're just about to succumb to sleep, when suddenly, his quiet whisper breaks the silence.

"I thought about you," he says softly, and it makes you open your eyes again.

You're staring straight into his handsome face, his beautiful blue eyes scanning over your features as he slowly clarifies.

"When they had me strapped down, I thought about you," he moves his fingers against the palm of your hand and completely engulfs you. "The thought of not seeing you again was..." the words die in his throat, and he looks as if he's seconds away from whimpering. "- Sweetheart, you make me so afraid of dying."

You breathe hard with quivering lips, huge eyes matching his as you let his confession sink in.

"I was so desperate to come home, I snapped the restraints in half. Snapped my own elbow along with them," he winces slightly at the painful memory that once again makes your stomach churn. "Sweetheart, I fought like hell. I don't think I've ever been so angry... I - I killed everyone I could get my hands on, I just had to see you again," he brings your hand to his soft lips and kisses the delicate pulse point of your wrist.

"Buck..." a slow whine escapes your throat as you try to blink away a stubborn tear that slowly starts rolling down the side of your nose.

"I love you," he whispers so softly against your thin skin that you almost don't hear. His eyes are closed and he looks relieved to be lying here with you, so you carefully pull his hand to your chest, placing his vibranium palm above your heavily beating heart.

"I love you too."

"Sweetheart," he whispers above you and moves his hand a little on top of your soft pyjamas while lightly shaking his head with a sigh. "No, you don't understand..." he gulps and searches your face, "I love you."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"- I want more than this," he slowly admits. "I want to be more than your friend. I'm in love with you."

You squeeze his hand and move a little closer to him, scared that he'll stop confessing his love if you say something to throw him off track.

He holds on to you and can feel how your pulse starts racing underneath your pyjamas. "I hope I'm not scaring you off."

"No, no you're not," you say in a hoarse voice, "not at all. I - I think about you all the time."

"You do?" He breathes hard, clearly not believing what he's hearing.

"Yeah," you merely nod and move your head a little closer to him while he does the same. "I'm in love with you too, Buck. Have been for quite some time."

With a serious look, he moves his hand from off your chest and up to your face where he brushes a finger over the delicate features of your cheekbone and down to your jawline. "I'm gonna kiss you now," he warns in a whisper and waits for you to give him a nod before he reaches his head forwards, finally claiming your mouth with his lips.

His hand snakes down the length of your spine and you press your entire front up against his hard chest and stomach while he caresses the small of your back, slipping his soft tongue inside your mouth. "God," he moans and gently grabs hold of your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him. "You make me feel whole again," he whispers against your skin and kisses a small line from your earlobe and down to the base of your clavicle. "What do you say sweetheart?" he mumbles and nibbles at your skin, "can I take you out?"

"Yeah, Buck, you can take me out," you squeeze his hand, and he smiles for the first time that evening, setting everything inside of you aflame.

He's finally smiling and it's because of you.

"I wanna do it the old-fashioned way," he says, beaming, "bring you flowers. Take you dancing. Show you how you're supposed to be treated."

You can't help but chuckle at his soft innocence. "You're an old man," you brush him over his hair, "nobody goes dancing anymore."

"I'll teach you," he chuckles back but lets it turn into a sharp hiss when he accidentally moves his broken elbow.

"That sounds lovely," you admit with a smile, excited at the prospect of having his hands on your hips while he tells you what to do, "- though I'm afraid we'll have to get that elbow sorted first if you want to manoeuvre me around on the dancefloor. I know you don't see the point in going but... med wing tomorrow morning?"

"Okay," he rolls his eyes with a laugh that makes your stomach go all warm and fuzzy. "If it gets me to go dancing with you just an hour earlier, it's worth the trip... Will you go with me?"

"Yeah, I'll go with you," you kiss his hand, and he chuckles so warmly your stomach lights up again. "I'll go with you always."

6K notes · View notes

lizslibrary · 1 year

Text

✾ - 300+ notes ❅ - 500+ notes ✰ - 1000+ notes

- Alpine ✾

- Angst w/o Happy Ending

- Angst with Happy Ending

- Avenger / Agent!Reader ✾

- Bucky Comforts Reader

- Bucky / Reader Dies

- Cheating ✾

- Clingy / Drunk ✾

- Hurt / Comfort ✾

- Hydra Experiment Reader

- Injured / Sick Reader ❅

- Jealous/ Possessive ✾

- Miscommunication

- Nanny!Reader

- Pregnant Reader ❅

- Proposing ✾

- Protective!Bucky ❅

- Relapse into the Winter Soldier

- Single Mom!Reader ✾

- Touch Starved Bucky ✾

- Truth or Dare / 7 Minutes in Heaven

- Villain / Morally Gray Reader

- Vormir

- Washing Bucky’s Hair

Tropes

- Enemies to Lovers ❅

- Exes to Lovers ✾

- Fake Dating / Marriage ✰ ❅

- Friends to Lovers ✰

- Grumpy Sunshine

- Secret Relationship ✾

AUs

- 40s AU

- Alpha!Bucky ❅

- Apocalypse

- Baker!Bucky

- Bartender!Bucky

- Biker!Bucky ✰

- Bodyguard!Bucky

- Brother’s BFF / BFF’s Brother!Bucky ✾

- College AU

- Dad!Bucky

- Doctor!Bucky

- Fame AU

- Firefighter!Bucky

- Fuckboy!Bucky ✾

- Gamer!Bucky

- Husband!Bucky ✾

- Mob!Bucky ❅

- Neighbor!Bucky ❅

- Nurse / Paramedic!Bucky

- Outlaw / Western AU

- Professor!Bucky

- Roommate!Bucky ✾

- Royal AU

- Single Dad!Bucky

- Soulmate AU ✾

- Tattoo Artist!Bucky ✾

- Vampire!Bucky

- Winter Soldier!Bucky ✰

18+

- Fav Writers ✾

- Best Friend’s Dad!Bucky

- Breeding Kink ✰

- DBF!Bucky

- Established Relationship

- Pinning & Feelings

- Sex Pollen ❅

- Subby Bucky

Miscellaneous

- Christmas

- 15+ Chapters Series

- Favorite Angst Oneshot

Ask for a Rec <3 | main masterlist

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lizslibrary · 1 year

Text

Oh my GOSH.

I feel safe 🫂

‘’Why is she wearing my hoodie?’’

A/N: Here is just another fluff bomb for you all, hope you it! Please let me know what you think. Please note that english is not my first language so there might be grammar mistakes

Pairings: Bucky X Reader Prompt: Bucky tries to figure out the reason behind his missing hoodie one day, relishing in the idea that might be a win-win situation for both of you.. but what might that lead to? Warnings: Fluff overload Word count: 3745

It all started out innocently enough, on a monday evening after a return home from a particularly difficult mission. Your feet brushed against the cold kitchen tiles, a shiver trailing through your body as you made your way to the fridge for a late night snack. You grabbed a plate of brownies, showing the fridge close with your elbow before making your way to the television room.

You were surprised to find it empty, smiling to yourself as you relished in the idea of being able to pick a movie for once as you planted yourself on the couch. You placed the plate on the sofa table, bringing a brownie to your mouth as you browsed through the selection available on Netflix until you found something of your liking. Another shiver trailed down your spine, your body being tired and drained of energy from the mission and you reached over to the blanket at and brought it over your legs. Your eyes landed on a grey hoodie, figuring it was Steve’s you contently threw it over your shoulders and enjoyed the warmth and smell of the large garment that covered your figure.

Keep reading

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lizslibrary · 1 year

Text

Soft

Random thought that I thought was adorable.

Bored Bucky.

Everyone sat around the conference room listening to Fury hand out mission assignments. It was rare for him to make an appearance but the latest assignment was a serious one and he expected all avengers present.

Steve and Tony sat near the front making note of who should be paired with who and action plans. Nat, Clint, Sam and Thor listened attentively, making mental notes of what to pack and mission tactics.

Bucky yawned.

He was unbothered. He’d heard worse, seen worse, felt worse. His mind was other places.

Where did all the dunkaroos go…that fatass Sam probably ate them all.

Why did was the ice cream machine at McDonalds always broken…also probably Sam’s fault some how.

What was tik tok and why did Peter keep refencing it

Should he make Instagram?

What would he even have as a username

JBB, no, too short.

James Buchanan Barnes. No, too long.

James White Wolf Barnes. Nope.

White Wolf the Howling Commando…..sounded like a fucking porn star what the hell was wrong with him.

Never mind.

The hamster in his brain continued to lazily trudge around while his eyes fell on your hair. You were sitting in front of him, jotting down some notes for what you had to do, all your attention focused on the meeting. Your hair was like a silky water fall, cascading down the back of the chair.

Bucky couldn’t help himself, reaching out and playing with the soft strands, humming contently. You hadn’t even noticed, barely feeling him paw at your hair, combing his fingers through.

Bucky smiled to himself, your hair felt so nice. Soft. Smelled like sweet shampoo. He loved how lush it felt as he sectioned a bit of your hair to fiddle with, twisting and playing with the strand, careful not to get it caught around his mental fingers. It was almost calming in a way, almost like petting a kitten-

“Sergeant Barnes are you braiding Agent y/l/n’s hair?!”

Fury’s face scrunched up, stopping the meeting, looking across the table to where Bucky’s attention was focused. His eyes shot up, a deep blush spreading across his cheeks while Steve and Sam snickered, the rest of the team smirking at him.

“I-

You bit back a giggle, turning around to see a flustered super soldier looking back at you, his puppy eyes wide, dropping the strand of hair and retreating his hands into his lap.

“I must say, James braids hair beautifully” Thor smiled, admiring the braid Bucky had done in your hair before proudly looking at his own, the blond strands neatly plaited and tucked behind his ear.

“If you’re done playing hair dresser, can we focus on the meeting” He gave Bucky a pointed look before continuing. “As I was saying…”

“Sergeant, you’ll be at the east side, with Captain Rogers, Stark, you’ll be with Wilson, I need eyes from on top of the base”

Everyone hummed in agreement, making note of their positions. Except Bucky.

“Sergeant”

No reply.

“Sergeant”

“BARNES”

Fury turned around, having not heard a reply from Bucky yet, just to find him with his hands in your hair again, practically kneading his hands in and purring like a cat.

“Mother f-

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lizslibrary · 1 year

Text

Downpour

Word count: ~14,000

Pairing: Loki x gender neutral reader (romantic)

CW: Near-death experience (drowning), PTSD, anxiety, throwing up, shock, swearing, please read my disclaimer before proceeding.

Synopsis: This fic is based off a Prompt in which a lovely anon asked for a Loki x reader in the wake of a near-death experience, in which they were trapped in a confined space slowly filling with water.

“I don’t like this. Something’s off.”

You furrowed your brow after you urged the words towards Loki, treading very carefully, piece in hand, aimed to follow your line of sight wherever you may inspect.

The sound of rushing water from the pipes lining the weeping stone walls may have been soothing, if you weren’t in a utility basement deep underneath a lakeside building, stepping through puddles, following a signal your team was tracking to retrieve a briefcase that’d been stolen from a murdered SHIELD Agent.

The incessant dripping of the leaky pipes into shallow puddles made you physically twitch your head to shake it off. To concentrate. “Do you see anything?” You spoke to Loki without turning your head.

“Nothing of use.”

“It’s probably in another part of the building,” you sighed, then began picking up broken chatter in your earpiece.

“Third floor clear,” Bucky confirmed.

“-nd fourth. Wan- and -have nothing,” Nat’s voice told the team.

Stabilising your flashlight atop your wrist and clicking it on, you rounded a corner into a larger, darker part of the basement. The floor was littered with waterlogged furniture, some of it half-heartedly pushed into a pile in the middle. “This must‘ve flooded recently,” you turned to Loki, who was looking over at a bookshelf. He narrowed his eyes in thought, so you casted a glance to where he was looking.

A small steady trickle was coming from under the shelf. Not behind - under. Which would be strange, unless… “We may have something. Can we get another set of eyes in the basement? My gut’s telling me something’s not right,” you spoke tensely into your earpiece.

“What- that ab- the -asement?” Bucky’s static-broken voice came back. You let out a breath of frustration.

“Damned stone walls,” you bit the side of your tongue, turning back to Loki. “Should we wait for backup, or check out this secret door?”

He gave you a cocky, but wary look. Evidently, his instincts were also running haywire like a compass in a magnet shop. His footfall made its way through the shallow puddles and his hands closed around the edge of the bookshelf, pushing aside the wooden furniture covered in soggy canvas and paper. It all but disintegrated against his strong shove, crumpling to a pile of rotten wood and nails.

Shining your light on the space behind the shelf, a metal sliding door with a thick latch glinted under the spotlight. You nodded to Loki, who grasped the latch and slid the out-of-place feature door over to the side. Revealing, behind it, an even darker hallway.

You shook your head. “I don’t like this.”

“Come now, you’re an Avenger,” Loki bumped his eyebrows, then turned to walk down it.

“Loki, wait,” you held out a hand, but he’d already stepped into the hall. “Dammit,” you cursed more under your breath and scurried after him, shining the light around the hallway until you spied another door at the end of the twenty foot expanse.

Loki walked carefully towards the other door, and Nat’s voice caught your ear as she called your name. “Down here!” You turned, averting your eyes from the floor. Mere seconds later, Loki stumbled in front of you.

“Agent!” He froze. You shone the light down to his foot and saw his step had depressed a stone further into the ground. It wasn’t a stone. It was a trigger plate. His head turned to you, his glare urgent. “Go.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“I said, go!” He roared. His eyes darkened as he raised his hands which had begun to glow green. You gave him a warning look as to say, no way in hell are you telekinetically throwing me out of this hallway and living to tell the tale.

A screeching metal sound resounded behind you and you turned just in time to see the first metal door begin to quickly slide shut of its own volition. You ran towards it in a desperate attempt to figure out how to keep it open, but you merely caught a glimpse of Nat rounding the corner in time to see it shut you in. Then, it was silent.

“Don’t move, Loki,” you panted, trying to keep your cool as you searched the walls for an escape path. You shone the light upwards. The ceiling was low. Ten, maybe eleven feet tall. The walls about six feet apart. The entire hallway was one big stone tube, and there was no obvious way out.

“Agent,” Loki spoke again, and you heard a horrific gushing noise. Shining the light back towards Loki, you watched as a mound of water began sprouting up from the tile he’d stepped on. He retracted his foot and the mound grew to a solid spurting fountain, dumping gallons of water into the hallway with each passing second.

A loud pounding on the door, and the way it sounded like metal was clashing against itself, told you Bucky was probably beating against it trying to rip it open. Your socks became cold and wet and you looked down to see the hallway floor was already covered in a few inches of water.

“There’s gotta be another way out,” you called to Loki over the splashing of the growing stream pouring from beneath the ground. Loki turned and blasted his magic against a rock in the wall, but found, to your horror, it only created another large hole for water to pour through. “Okay, STOP!” You yelled, but that was obvious. There would soon be a foot of water covering the floor, creeping up your legs.

“I’ll blast the door!”

“NO!” You reached out and grabbed his forearm. “Our teammates are behind there, and it may bring this place caving in.”

“The other door then!”

The large stone next to the one that Loki had blasted then caved under the pressure of the water, doubling the size of the hole.

“No more blasting,” you said with an increasingly dry mouth. Trying to control how wide your eyes were getting, you held the flashlight towards the door and made your way through the rising knee-height water over to where the others were desperately trying to pry it open.

Icy cold water nipped at the skin around your lower thighs, completely infiltrating every nook and cranny of your skin, and you realised just how fast the water was rising. Your heart started pounding in your ribcage and you waded as fast as you could to the opposite end of the hallway, finding an identical metal door.

“Agent, I need to destroy it,” Loki yelled, his words nearly drowned by the sound. You shook your head.

Drowned. Is that what you’d be?

Swallowing the fear in your throat, you made your way as fast as you could through the now waist-height water back to the door you’d came in and began feeling around on it desperately. Running your hands along the walls, looking for any indication of a secret lever or latch. Loki was beside you in an instant, also looking for an exit. With a heavy breath, he looked over to you as the water lapped at your lower chest.

You raised your arms out of the water and felt hot, anxious tears prick your eyes. Running your fingers through your hair, trying to self-soothe, you suddenly grabbed hold of the back of your own neck and hid your face from view. The water began making your lungs feel cold and tight. Your breathing picked up in pace and you let out a desperate cry, releasing yourself to pound a fist against the door.

The tears fell before you could stop them, and the very real fear of death suddenly washed over you in a way it never had before. Or perhaps it was the frigid water taking your shoulders.

“NO!” You screamed, hitting the door over again.

“Hey- hey!” Loki grabbed your hand to prevent you from injuring it against the metal, spinning you to face him. “Calm yourself,” he ordered, but it wasn’t impatient. He released your wrists and took both sides of your face in his hands, wiping away a tear as you snivelled and shook from fear, trying to hang your head as the sobs overtook you.

“Not like this,” you begged Whoever may be listening. “Please, not like this.” The tears got the best of you and you tried to push yourself away from Loki, to spend your last moments not in desperate humiliation from a breakdown.

He didn’t let you be alone for this.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulled you up to be held against his shoulder as you wept, feeling the water begin to splash into your ears. Your body shivered with the cold and shook with sobs as you clung to Loki and wondered if it was going to hurt. You wondered if you’d feel at peace after the first breath of water entered your lungs, or if you’d be panicking until the moment the last breath of air had left your body.

Loki pulled you higher, keeping your head above the water even as his own threatened to be submerged. You heard him splutter and spit out the murky lake, then wince as he finally found the need to begin treading water. Still with you in his arms, he kicked out against the metal door several times, finding it unrelenting. He kept treading in the rising water, and then your heads hit something. Looking up, seeing nothing with your flashlight long having sunk to the bottom of the hallway, you felt you only had maybe ten inches between the surface of the water and the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” you cried, then took your final breath of air.

“Agent!” He scrambled for you as you pushed yourself away, unwilling to weigh him down if he could hold his breath for a supernatural long period of time and escape without you. He found your hand beneath the water and pulled you back into him, wrapping his arms tight and holding you close as the water rose above your heads.

Suddenly, it was mostly quiet. There was very little echo under the water, just your tangled bodies suspended there in the hallway as the water pressure mounted. Small bubbles trailed up your skin as slivers of air escaped from your nose and mouth. Loki’s hand found the back of your neck and cradled you close to him. In what you assumed to be one of your last ever thoughts, you wondered if Loki held you close because he wanted your last feeling to be comfort, or if maybe he just wanted to.

Then, as quickly as it was still and quiet, it was loud and tumultuous.

Your bodies were sucked towards the door, hitting against the metal. Loki’s hand slid up to shield your head, to pull you close into his protective hold as the metal door was finally pried open and the water spilled into the basement, spilling you two onto the floor with it.

The contents of the hallway created a mighty rush, but not mightier than Loki, who stood with you in his arms and shifted to hook a hand under your knees. Your lungs stung with the release of what was to be your final breath. You then dared to take another one, unsure if it would be water or air entering your body. The second the new air entered your lungs, you fell into a new bout of pained, anxious tears. Loki held you closer and ran out of the basement as fast as he safely could, taking three stairs at a time with a hysterical Agent in his arms.

You coughed and spluttered through your tears, the sting of the water exiting your nose and mouth and you greedily gulped air. Closing your fist around any piece of his clothing you could grasp, you let out a loud yet feeble cry against Loki’s shoulder before breaking down once more in sobs. His arms wrapped more securely around you as he bashed open the exit door with his shoulder, leaving the building and running towards the awaiting jet.

He dashed up the ramp and past the gob-smacked Banner who was seated in the cockpit. With a nod of his head, he motioned for the doctor to follow your soaking selves. Again with his shoulder, Loki blew open the door to the medical bay and leaned down to set you on the table. You were not having a bar of it. When he tried removing his arms from around you, you nearly shrieked, clinging tighter to him. Loki didn’t try again, simply sitting down with you in his lap as Bruce pulled over some examination supplies.

You felt cold. You felt alone, empty, like your brain had drowned in that hallway. Halfway somewhere else, halfway gone, all but your physical body had been consumed by the water.

“… -n shock-”

“-at are- -water and I- … -almost-”

You picked up shattered pieces of their conversation as the pressure built and released in your chest, your lungs taking air in tiny bursts, lest they try taking a deeper breath in to be met with the murky lake water. Gods, it was cold. Why else would you be shaking uncontrollably? Why else would you feel so numb, save for the overwhelming static tingling in your hands and feet. It was so dark, but you couldn’t bear to open your eyes. Was the jet spiralling down to crash, or was Loki spinning you around? Weightless, you felt. Maybe you weren’t even in the jet anymore.

Then, Loki’s hand met the side of your head, and you were elsewhere.

“I swear I’m not cheating,” you grinned as you took his rook with your bishop. “Maybe all Midgardian games aren’t a simple-minded as you think, Loki.”

“Insolent little wretch,” he huffed, but an impressed smile wove its way into his cheeks as you added the captured piece to your collection of his white marbled warriors, lined up against the side of the chess board.

“Do you want some more pointers?” You looked up at him. He caught that familiar flash of playfulness in your eye.

Oh, you were enjoying this way too much.

“Careful, mortal,” he chided, moving his remaining rook out to side-castle his King. “Check.”

Without looking back at the board, you smirked at him. “Mate in five.” You looked back down and placed your fingers on a pawn. “Watch.”

Loki furrowed his brow over the next flurry of moves, desperately doing what he could to prevent your prophesy from coming to fruition. But it was no use. You’d got him right where you needed to take out his remaining powerful defences, sacrificing your Queen in order to ultimately trap his King between a rook, a knight and a pawn (of all things). How poignant. The pawn capturing the royal.

“Yes, very well done,” he sighed as he laid down his King in surrender and you stood to refill the tea cups.

“I said I’d go easy on you if you wanted!” You called from the kitchen as you set the kettle to boil, leaning in the doorway to the living room.

“An unearned victory is a fate worse that defeat,” he said, and you almost believed him when he said it.

It’d been only two days that you and Loki had been left alone back at the Compound, just the two of you, while the others were out on a mission. You were stood down on doctor’s orders after receiving a minor concussion, and Loki had some business to tend to in New Asgard during the two-day briefing; it was a very delicate mission - no one unprepared allowed. Wanda and Vision had also taken some time off, but you’d heard something about them having a getaway to Tony’s lake house in Colorado. Or was it the one in Georgia?

“We could play an Asgardian game, if you want to teach one to me.”

“Not in your state, I’m afraid,” he reset the board with a tight sympathetic smile. “Besides, I can’t let you continue undefeated.”

A small burst of happiness bubbled in your chest as the kettle clicked off with a ding and you turned to make some fresh tea. It was hard to imagine a more wonderful day, with the snow falling against the windows, the sky covered in glowing clouds, a soft blanket to wrap yourself up in on the couch as you taught an Alien Prince how to have some innocent fun.

You passed him his fresh tea as you took the seat on the other side of the couch, board between you, and he thanked you with a nod. “I’ve figured out your trick with the knights. Don’t expect it to work again.”

“Hmm, we’ll see,” you narrowed your eyes and placed your tea on a coaster before rubbing your hands together and blowing on them to heat up the frosty tips.

Instead of making a deal of it, Loki summoned the fireplace to roar to life with a wave of his hand, moving his first pawn with the other. You looked up with a shy smile of thanks, but he was still looking at the board. It was such a simple act of intentional care, to make sure you were warm enough.

You laughed and joked over two more rounds, one of which you ended in less than ten minutes, before something in Loki’s brain finally clicked and he became much more of an opponent. After a long and well-fought battle, you checkmated him with four pieces left, him with three. You both laughed in the pure relief of the tense war coming to a close, and he reached his hand out for you to shake. Grinning, you closed your palm around his, then his face fell into something a little more sad.

“What’s wrong?” Your brow twitched.

“Agent, I need you to come closer,” he said, carefully using his magic to move the chess board to the table with the empty mugs.

“Loki, what‘re you…” Your breath caught in your throat as he closed another hand over yours and looked at you as if he were to deliver the news that someone had been lost. “You’re scaring me,” you whispered.

“Come here,” he tried to smile reassuringly. “I’m honoured this is a happy memory for you, but I’m afraid it’s time to come back to reality. The initial shock has worn off and-”

“W-what do you mean?” You winced, then looked outside again. It was raining. Wait, it hadn’t been snowing that day. It had been raining.

“Come here,” he nodded, pulling you closer. “You can trust me. I must be sure you don’t panic when you awaken in my arms.”

“Loki,” you sniffed, tears filling your eyes as you let him pull you against him, over his lap. “What happened to me?”

A gasp left you as you opened your eyes and tried to sit up, but Loki’s strong hold kept you against him. After breathing a little wildly for several seconds, you looked around to see you were in the medical bay of the jet, held close against Loki’s chest, his hand being slowly removed from the side of your head.

“I chose a memory I was involved in as to not pry about within your subconscious,” he explained. “You were… incoherent. In shock. I had to do something.”

“Shock is a medical event, Loki. I need-”

“That’s why your feet are elevated and I’ve been holding you still,” he interjected. “Banner advised as such.”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, then made to sit up. You hadn’t really expected him to let you, but he did. Carefully turning you to take his place, he told you in no uncertain terms to keep your feet elevated. You laid back down asked him to pass you some water, but he said you weren’t yet allowed. Rolling your eyes, then closing them, you tried to will the mortified blush from your cheeks as you nonchalantly crossed your ankles in an attempt to trick yourself into thinking you chose to lounge about like this.

Loki didn’t leave the room, and he let out a bit of a wet cough. Peering out of one eye, you asked: “Are you okay?”

He looked at you, somewhat hesitantly. “I am,” he confirmed. You nodded in approval, relief, bitterness, whatever. Of course he was fine. He’s a god.

The ride home was thankfully short considering the dank lake water was starting to radiate its scent off your damp clothes, and you felt in desperate need to clean yourself of all sensory reminders of what’d just happened. Nearly happened… or, yes, happened.

Not willing to face the rest of the team and their concerned glances just yet, you lingered back after Bruce had cleared you and given instructions to take it easy, and to report to the medical bay at ten the next morning. You had barely any fight left in you, so you nodded in agreement and mumbled a thanks for his first aid.

“I’ve got it,” you gave Loki a tight smile and closed your hand around the strap of your bag over his shoulder. He relented, allowing you the dignity of pulling your weight. He did not, however, afford you the dignity of walking yourself to your room.

He followed you in, which made your brow furrow, but you slung your bag down on a chair and shoved your hands into your back pockets. “Thanks for your help,” you said quietly, not quite meeting his eye.

Loki, with that infuriating look of worry on his face, ducked his head to catch your gaze. “Are you okay?”

“I‘m so embarrassed,” you muttered in admission. Your still-slightly-shaking fingers brushed some stringy half-dried hair, grimy from the lake water, away from your forehead.

“You need not be,” Loki assured. The unusual softness in his tone, however comforting he meant it to be, only served to prove your point. The jig was up. They now all knew how delicate you were. Fragile. “There is no shame in trauma.”

“Trauma,” you barked out the laugh before you could stop it, wincing at his words. “Dammit, Loki. Can’t you just make fun of me or something?”

“Not today.”

“I’m fine,” you nodded, turning to pick up a towel from the shelf next to your bathroom door. “Thanks for your help.”

“I can stay.”

“You don’t have to.”

As you shut the door to the bathroom you felt the guilt nag at your chest. You sighed, leaning your back against the door before closing your fingers around the latch to lock it. But you paused, deciding you didn’t need to. Forgoing looking at yourself in the mirror - how you looked not being a question you needed answered - you walked over to turn on the shower.

It sprayed faster and harder than you’d ever remembered it to have done before. The loud spray startled you as it smacked and splattered against the frosted glass shower walls. An incessant drilling, it sounded like. You found yourself watching the water violently shoot from the minuscule holes of the shower head, fighting to be free, fighting against the pressure it was trapped in. Steam began filling the room as the water sloshed around on the shower floor. With your hand still holding the shower door open, small droplets shot out of the forming puddle and hit the fabric covering your shins and knees. Your pants were still damp anyway.

But the sound. Gods, the sound. Had water always sounded so abrasive? So ready to cut and cover and submerge? You physically shook your head and took a shaky breath in, scolding yourself for assigning violence to a thing. To water.

Come on, it’s just a shower, you scoffed silently to yourself. But it got louder. Or maybe it just became the only thing you could focus on. The steam billowed up and around the ceilings like a looming fog so you reached over and switched the fan on. See? Steam is water. It’s expanding to fill this space, that’s what water does, your mind told you. You swatted a hand out at the descending cloud of steam, swiping a scar through its swelling softness, watching how it so quickly healed itself. It creeped back to fill the space you’d created without a care in the world, without any consideration that you should also occupy this space.

Feeling your chest tighten, you harshly closed the shower door and turned to your sink to splash some cool water on your face. An innocent thing, an honest reaction that you’d used dozens of times to snap you out of a spiral. You cupped the cool water in your hands, and then held your breath to throw it against your skin. It hit your face with a ferocity, not one sliver of skin hidden, able to escape, and you gasped from the unexpected anxiety which surged through your stomach.

Your breath quickly became shallow coughs as you flung yourself back from the sink. The tap was still open, the water still gushing, why the hell was the shower so loud today?! Finding your back against the wall, you tried to take in a deeper breath, but the nausea began to bloom. Wincing, your body heaved with the desire to release your adrenaline and tension in any way it could.

Slamming your knees against the tile and your fists around the seat, you leaned over the toilet bowl and let your body have its well-deserved wretch. You shook with the force the anxious energy stripping away the contents of your stomach, spitting and grimacing between each feeble attempt to hold it back before it overtook you once again. You growled in frustration at the last one, then placed your forehead against your arm and let yourself whimper pathetically for a second, though you hardly heard it yourself. The water must be getting louder.

It was deafening now, drowning out any- gods, drowning. You’d almost just drowned. From that. From the water.

A presumed air bubble in the shower head made the thing hiss and splutter before sending out a wave of harder pressure. When it hit the shower wall directly next to your ear, you yelped from the loud surprise, then felt your chest tighten again. You reached up and yanked on the latch to flush the toilet, which just created the most awful sound that made your stomach church anew. Pushing yourself away from the toilet, you scrambled along the floor and reached up to turn the sink off. When you did, your hand connected with the powerful icy stream. You yelped again, retracting it and sniffing when your chest tightened further. Abandoning all hopes and plans, you fumbled for the door handle only to have it opened before your fingers truly closed around it.

The door opened inwards, whomever pushing it careful to not swing it with abandon lest the corner connected hard with your head. Kind of them, but you needed out now. Your fingers closed around the edge of the door, pulling it open forcefully. It hit your thigh hard, you’d left it in the way, but you shifted and flung it open before all but crawling out of the bathroom. You flipped to sit, scooting yourself backwards away from the open door, not having a single shred of desire to gaze up and see how Loki would be looking at you.

“I-I could’ve been naked and-an-and you just busted in,” you huffed, finding it hard to to ignore how your chest heaved with the labour of your breath. You still felt underwater.

Loki responded by entering your bathroom and turning off the tap, then turning down the shower to a soft and gentle stream. Standing to your feet, you busied yourself by pulling off your shoes and belt, making to get ready to undress. When Loki re-entered the room, you didn’t quite meet his eye.

“Perhaps try with the doors open,” he suggested, then look his leave. Your gaze could have bored holes into his skull as he retreated. Who the hell was he, telling you how to take a shower? You’re not Norse. He’s not your god.

Shutting the door to your room, and resisting the urge to slam it like a child, you turned back to the now less threatening sound of the shower. It still made your skin crawl, so you focused on the sound of the fabric being stripped from your skin, the feeling of the carpet beneath your toes. When you’d undressed and stepped back into the bathroom, you let yourself say you were only taking Loki’s advice to prove it wouldn’t work. So you left the bathroom door open, and when you stepped into the shower you left that door open too.

The breath caught in your throat as the near-hot water grazed one of your shoulders, spilling down one half of your body. After several seconds of that, your upper chest throbbed with the need to breath. So you, apparently instinctively, stepped out of the shower and took another breath in.

Ah. So this is how it was going to go.

In short bursts to make it bearable, you let yourself cope the way you needed to tonight by holding your breath whenever the water was touching your skin. Every time you stepped under the stream to lather your hair, your skin, wash it away, you winced with internal embarrassment for your body’s refusal to breathe in the shower stall itself. But after a few, long minutes, you were finally clean and rinsed.

Turning the shower off felt like finishing a marathon, with how out of breath and relieved you were that it was done. It didn’t feel like an achievement though. Or a victory. It was more like the first ever marathon, where the guy dropped dead at the end of it.

You dried your body but convinced yourself that not using a hairdryer could be an Important First Step in conquering this silly I’m not gonna breathe when water’s touching me thing. You told yourself it’d probably go away in a day or two, when the initial shock wears off.

That night, as to be expected, was fairly sleepless. Your heart was still beating anxiously, your body still physically reacting from the shock, even as you decided against leaving your room in favour of yoga and meditation before bed. You’d dimmed the lights, trying to practise the mindfulness you’d been working on, trying to not scold yourself too hard when your mind wandered. But when you crawled into bed just after midnight, it hadn’t felt as useful as it had previously.

Just after the second time you awoke in a cold sweat, after the second nightmare where you’d been back in that hallway, but alone this time, you scrambled out of bed into a heap on the floor when your body had wrongfully associated the sheets with a watery hand pulling you deeper. You hit the carpet hard, but it didn’t hurt that bad, only enough for a small groan of annoyance.

A very unexpected knock on your door made you wonder if you were still dreaming. Looking at your alarm clock, bleary-eyed, you saw it was barely past three in the morning. Who the hell-

“Agent?” Loki’s hushed baritone voice called through the door with another knock. Untangling your ankle from the sheets with a grumble, you stood and padded over to the door before opening it just a crack. Your face immediately softened when you saw the worried, paler-than-usual look on his face, and the way the hair around his temples seemed a little damp.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re okay,” he breathed out, then nodded. “I just needed- I shouldn’t’ve left earlier I-… you’re okay,” he nodded again, deep breathing evident below his black long-sleeved shirt.

“Of course I’m okay,” you croaked out, sleepily rubbing an eye. “You don’t need to worry about me,” you tried to smile reassuringly.

He looked at you meaningfully, then nodded and, presumably, walked back to his room. You shut the door and paused for a minute, wondering if it was his first knock that’d awoken you, or if perhaps he was walking by and heard your noise of frustration, or if he’d been waiting to knock for a bit and only did when he heard you awake. Either way, it was a strange mix of annoying and comforting to have him looking out for you. You settled back into the sheets and thought about it as you dozed off once again, wondering if your friendship would’ve naturally reached this point without the near-death experience - the point where he seemed so protective.

It was hard to ignore the change in Loki over the next couple of days. How you seemed to catch him looking at you a bit more, how he’d relax when he saw you walk into the room, the way he volunteered to train with you a little faster than he usually did and, this time, without the teasing comment about teaching you a thing or two.

The darker part of you resented him for it. You were fine, you didn’t need him looking out for you as if you were a teacup about to be accidentally knocked off a bench. However, some small timid part of you relished in the knowledge that such a powerful being was watching over you. Yes, you were an Avenger, and they’d of course Avenge you if anything happened. But it was different with Loki.

Because where the Avengers would infiltrate, arrest and make the perpetrator pay in a court of law, something about the way Loki looked at you made you understand, in a new way, that he’d tear this world apart if it ever hurt you. It was odd, and perhaps a bit guilt-inducing; you didn’t want to be the reason Loki relapsed into his old ways.

But it was also oddly comforting.

The dust slowly settled as the days passed. Physically, medically, you were fine. Cleared to train as normal, cleared to be in the field, somehow avoiding a psych eval maybe through the steady and calm demeanour you’d somehow maintained when seeing Bruce the morning after it’d happened. You hadn’t mentioned the shower situation. You didn’t mention it at all over the next week, only promising yourself to bring it up with someone if you ever couldn’t get in. If you’d ever had to resort to a sponge-bath. It was probably the idea of having to admit such a thing that kept you getting in the shower day after day, even though your stomach went sour the second the water hit the glass.

Loki seemed okay. No better or worse than normal, except for those looks he’d give you - the analytical ones, the ones with pity and concern. It began to get under your skin after a week or so, so you began spending a little more time in your room. Reading, stretching, watching TV, catching up on reports. You knew you couldn’t hide too much, but a knock on your bedroom door a week after it happened told you you’d accidentally crossed that line into obviously not okay.

“Come in!” You called from your bed, looking up from your book. Loki swanned into the room as he usually did: like he owned the place. Without a hint of being out of place. You very consciously did not bite your lip nervously. “What’s up?”

“I’m going for a walk in the gardens. I’d like your company.”

You scoffed as you casted a glance out of your window. “It’s about to rain.”

Loki held out his hand and conjured a large black umbrella, then closed it to be sheathed as a rod by his side. Giving him an unimpressed look, you sat up and dog-earred your book before swinging your legs over the side of your bed.

“You’re being obvious,” you mumbled, sliding your socked feet into the sneakers you’d toed off when retreating to your bedroom earlier that afternoon. “The rain doesn’t scare me.”

“I never said it did.”

With a subtle roll of your eyes, a bite at the side of your tongue and a final tie of your laces, you stood and walked side-by-side with Loki out of the Compound. You didn’t say much of anything until you broke into the medium-sized vegetable garden off the path - one of Pepper’s initiatives; she read some article about the anxiety-reducing effects of gardening and said it would be good for those onsite to have a way to get their hands dirty which didn’t involve combat.

“See that patch there?” Loki nodded to a small plot of land, surrounded by a wooden ankle-height barrier. The mulch and soil was churned and bare. “My brother’s attempt at growing pumpkins, of all things.”

You smiled, nearly chuckled. “Give ‘em time. I’m sure they’ll grow.”

Loki chuckled. “He’s simply buried them and hoped for the best. He can hardly expect them to flourish without proper tending.” Wordlessly, Loki prompted you to take the umbrella from his hand and he then crouched before Thor’s rickety pumpkin patch.

“What’re you gonna magically grow them?” You sniffed, a half-grin into one cheek. Loki peered over his shoulder at you.

“An instant fix is no replacement for repetitive, intentional care.”

As Loki pulled a small weed from the patch and smoothed the soil, you felt your smile fall as his metaphor began taking root. “Seriously? Comparing me to a pumpkin?” You raised an eyebrow and flinched a little when the first few droplets of rain hit your head. Pulling up your hood, you reached over to unleash the umbrella. Loki stood as you lifted the black bloomed canvas above your head to shield yourself from the coming downpour. Wiping his hands, he stepped underneath and then took the handle for you to hold it himself, accomodate his height.

“You must tend to your trauma,” Loki said finally, solemnly.

“You have no right-”

“Then who does?” The underlying anger in his growling voice made you stop. “If not the person who nearly died with you, pray tell, who?”

The rain began hitting harder at the umbrella and the gravel around your feet. A steady pattering noise, one that had always brought you comfort, filled your ears much like the petrichor filled your nose. The earthy, stony aroma grounded you even as the sound of the water threatened to sweep you to some far away land. Feeling the urge to reach out and grab hold to the umbrella, to Loki, to anything, even Thor’s pumpkin seeds to anchor you, you crossed your arms in front of your chest and bored your gaze into Loki’s.

“I don’t know.”

It was a cop-out answer. It was a half-truth. The whole truth was that you knew you had to give someone the authority to worry about you, but the part you admitted to was true - you didn’t know who that should be.

“You can’t go on like this.”

“I didn’t ask for your help, Loki.”

“You’re free to leave at any time,” he set his jaw then nodded towards the main Compound. “I’m not holding you here against your will.”

“B-but-” You winced as the rain began beating harder. “I don’t have an umbrella and it’s like two hundred yards to the shelter.”

“You said you weren’t afraid of rain.”

“I’m not!” Unfolding your arms in defiance, you quickly folded them again as your movement put you into the path of some renegade raindrops. In a desperate move you swiped your hand at the umbrella, catching hold of the handle just above Loki’s grasp. Less than a second later his other hand was on top of yours, fingers curling around your grip. The realisation set in that you were holding onto something fake, something easily conjured away, and your stomach dropped. Exposing yourself be damned, you bit your lip and plead with a low whisper, “Don’t make it disappear.”

“I’d never do such a thing,” he assured. The worry in his voice was poorly masked by his air of steadiness. You nodded, then went to pull your hand away as thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Thor must be mad that you messed with his pumpkin patch,” you tried your hand at a lame joke to sidetrack your confession, but noticed Loki hadn’t let your hand go.

“The nightmares,” he ignored your joke, squinting a bit at you. “You get them too, don’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question. He was so confident that it made you wonder if you should start wearing a little something to conceal the dark circles under your eyes.

“Too?”

Loki took a deep, slow breath in through his nose and rubbed his thumb once over your fingers before settling back to stillness. “I’ve never known a fear like that. Being trapped in that hallway.” The rain picked up so he had to raise his voice slightly, to be heard. “Frankly…” He opened and close his mouth a few times, searching for the right word, then he sighed and looked at you honestly. Without a hint of shame in his voice, he confessed: “I was petrified.”

“B-but… you seem fine.”

“Fear does not manifest the same way for all. Rest assured, I‘ve not been at peace since that day.”

“Well, that doesn’t assure me,” you mumbled. “Just makes me feel kinda hopeless,” you sighed. “If you’re a god and you’re still feeling it, how is there any hope for me?”

“Perhaps we can help each other,” Loki offered. His voice was unusually timid, but the look in his eye as intense as ever. “Would you be willing to try?”

“Depends what you had in mind.”

“Nothing dastardly, I assure you. What if we met at the pool later this evening?”

You raised an eyebrow. “That sounds pretty dastardly,” you tried joking again, but a sudden shift in the wind brought the rain in diagonally and made you flinch. You grimaced and stepped away from it, stepping closer to Loki. His hand was still on yours. “But, yeah, okay,” you nodded, ignoring the myriad of thoughts and emotions flying through your head.

“Very well,” he motioned for you two to walk back to the Compound together, and you tried hard to not regret saying yes.

But there you were, just before eleven o’clock that night, very much regretting saying yes.

The temperature in the Compound was regulated so it never got extreme, but Autumn had well and truly begun and so the cool marble kept you quick on your bare feet as you scurried sneakily to the the indoor pool. The sneaking because it could look dastardly having a near-midnight rendezvous with the God of Mischief.

You’d gotten there a few minutes before you planned to meet him. On purpose. To get a lay of the land.

It looked the same as it always did - no more or less intimidating than before on the face of it, but it felt different. There was unease in the air. You’d been in it countless times to swim laps for cardio, for recovery, sometimes for fun. It’d never occurred to you, not once, any of those times, that you’d one day struggle to even look at the thing.

The ceiling of the room was high, the walls tiled like the floors and it was all echoey. The low hum of the filtration system was the dominant sound, considering the water was glassy and undisturbed. So you slung your towel down on the bench and approached the edge.

There was no shallow-end; it was all one depth. Avengers didn’t need shallow-ends. Or, they shouldn’t need them. The pool floor could lift and lower to accomodate different types of training if needed, but it seemed dramatic to lift it just for yourself, so you stared at a point on the floor of the pool where the tiles converged around a small filter, focusing on it until you heard the door open and Loki enter.

“You’re here,” he commented, mighty unhelpfully, you thought.

“Said I would be,” you shot back, then nodded to his clothes. “You swimming in that?”

He didn’t answer, he just emanated a green flash with hints of gold and was suddenly in nothing but what looked to be black tailored swim shorts. Your mouth went a little dry so you turned back to the water to have a reason to be a little nervous. You couldn’t help it though - you’d never seen that much of him. Gods, why didn’t he show it off more? The god was lean and muscular and domineering. He looked strong. As you stilled your beating hard, you focused on that strength. He wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

“What’s the plan, Loki?” You looked over at him again as he approached.

“I’m getting in the water, and you may join me if you so choose,” he said matter-of-factly, and then lowered himself down to the edge to slip into the pool with an impossible amount of grace. You took a step back, hardly believing he’d just done that.

When he surfaced, he pushed the hair from his face and treaded water as he looked around the room. Notably, not looking at you expectantly.

“S-so you’re just fine doing that, huh?” You crossed your arms and glowered down, he responded with a soft grin.

“You don’t have to get in.”

“Oh no,” you clicked your tongue and lowered yourself to sit by the edge. “Your reverse psychology isn’t working with me, mister God of Mischief.”

Loki chuckled as you sat and slipped your feet into the water, all the way up to your knees. Loki, sensing hesitation, swam over. You held your breath, this time for a different reason, as he slowly placed his hands on the edge of the pool, either side of your legs, and looked up at you with such understanding in his eyes.

“You don’t have to get in.”

And you knew he meant it. Not in a challenging way, not in a reverse psychology way, but in a way that made you know he wouldn’t rush you. Not one bit.

“Why are you doing this?” You blurted out before you had the wherewithal to not. “I know we’re friends, but this… this is beyond your call of duty. Helping a stupid mortal who‘s scared of the water after one bad experience-”

“Enough,” his voice was sharp, and it made you pause. “Enough of that. You’re not stupid,” he said firmly, and it almost made you nearly stutter out an apology. “And it wasn’t one bad experience; you very nearly lost your life. Because of me.”

Ah.

“Not because of you,” you argued. “It was a trap. You couldn’t have known.”

“You told me to wait.”

“You never listen to me,” you chuckled sadly.

“You didn’t leave me.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“See, now, that’s the problem,” Loki spoke in a low voice, as if it pained him. “I’ve somehow fooled you into thinking I’m something worth staying for.”

“Okay, now, enough from you,” you scoffed and planted your hands on the edge of the pool to scoot forward. “I trust you with my life, Loki,” you started, nearly at the edge now. He leaned back a bit. “And I know you won’t let me- woah!” You went a little too far, slipping into the water between the edge and Loki’s body, but his arm caught you around the waist before your head could go under.

You gasped and flung your arms around his shoulders, holding tight as you tried to steady your breathing and you listened to the churning around you. A small anxious breath burst through your lips as you tightened your grip.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out with a sniff, beginning to become more embarrassed that you’d thrown your half-naked self around a half-naked god, than you were afraid of slipping into this water. “S-sorry.” You went to turn to grab onto the side but Loki simply held you tighter with that one arm, allowing you to begin to relax against him.

“May we leave the edge?” He asked, his low voice rumbling close to your ear and through your chest and- oh, gods, your legs were around his waist. You’d actually wrapped your legs around his waist. This couldn’t be happening… but it was. So you nodded, and you knew he felt it.

With his free arm, Loki gently pushed away from the edge of the pool and brought you both several feet from the edge of it until you were surrounded by nothing to hold onto but each other.

“Might I point out that I’m not the one who turned this dastardly,” Loki attempted the joke, and it actually make you laugh even through your shaking.

“You’re the worst,” you mumbled, but you could tell he’d heard your grin. Braving it, you unwrapped your arms from his shoulders and slowly leaned back, looking down to avoid catching his gaze, but his arm was still around your waist. Your nervousness at his proximity would’ve been obvious if you couldn’t even look at him, so you lifted your eyes and tried to sound brave. “I-I think I can…” but the words were lost on your lips as your stare met his.

There was no doubt about it. He’d tear this world apart if it ever hurt you.

Quickly regaining your composure and resisting the urge to stay gazing deep into his striking blue eyes, to notice the way the droplets cling to his pale skin and sharp cheekbones, you started unwrapping your legs from his waist. “I’ll try on my own.”

Loki nodded and slid his hand, from where it was at your waist, across the length of your lower back until it fell off the edge of your other side. The way his fingertips brushed the skin above your hip made your mouth twitch into a ticklish-half grin. Loki caught the smile and the small flinch away, and his eyes sparkled with a mischievous understanding as his lips pulled into a faint smirk. He knew better than to explore such new-found information at this point in time. Still, it made your cheeks prick with heat that he’d noticed such a reaction.

Once you were completely separate from him, you began treading water. You felt vulnerable, small, easily overcome as you closed your eyes and moved your hands and feet to keep your head and shoulders hovering above the surface.

“Okay…” You breathed out, chest heaving with anxiety as you kept treading water, looking down at your own body moving around in the water. Then, the crying started. Choking out restrained cries of fear and anguish, you gritted your teeth and forced yourself to keep looking at the water. “Dammit,” you sniffed and coughed for a few seconds, before gritting your teeth harder. “Relax, just rehelax,” you said aloud, trying to release the tension in your shoulders, in your jaw, as you cried bitterly.

“Agent,” Loki was close in a second, holding a hand out to you.

“No, no,” you shook your head and closed your eyes. “I’m fine. Fine,” you cleared your throat, but your chest kept heaving. Then, the nausea came back. “Shit, Loki, I think I’m gonna throw up again,” you winced. “I’m sorry, sorry, shit,” you sniffed and coughed, turning to make your way to the edge.

“Hey,” he took your hand in his. The steady anchor immediately began sending waves of reassurance through you, alleviating the nausea, bringing your breath back to normal. It was noticeable. A little mortifying. But Loki didn‘t give any indication.

You two stayed there in the water, your hand in his, treading water in silence for several more minutes as you taught your body to not fear this thing. When you got to the point where the fear wasn’t overwhelming, you finally released the tense breath that was being held somewhere deep in your lungs, and Loki squeezed your hand reassuringly.

It seemed otherworldly, that this became a little routine. Most nights for the next weeks, you’d meet Loki at the pool. He still didn’t make fun of you as you wish he would have, but it slowly became less embarrassing to be doing this with him. It was hard to shy away from someone so determined, so patient with you. He never pressured or forced you, even on the harder days when you couldn’t get in.

Eventually, those harder days stopped happening, and you soon were able to get in without thinking too much about it. You’d never forget Loki’s look of surprise the first time, several weeks in, when he got to the pool to find you already in there.

“Brave thing,” he grinned before diving in with barely a splash. The noise of it still got to you a bit, but less than before. He surfaced next to you and flicked the water from his hair, still with that smirky grin he usually wore. “Tomorrow, let’s swim in your world’s waters,” Loki declared.

“O-oh... why?” You shifted, feeling a little queasy at the thought.

“Because we’re ready.”

It was that word, the we, that convinced you. He was in it with you.

So the next afternoon you met Loki at a car, signing out the self-driving vehicle and allowing him to punch in the directions for the place he had in mind. You were mostly quiet on the drive, busying yourself by playing with the hem of the jacket sticking out of your bag, or running your fingers along the towel, or adjusting your swimsuit as you sat in the backseat with him.

As you approached your destination on the overcast afternoon, the grey sky reflected off the lake in a new and beautiful way. It wasn’t a glittering sunlight that sparkled and shone, but it turned the water to a soft muted glow. It almost looked welcoming.

The car pulled to a small turnoff and halted itself on a gravel patch next to a grassy bank. It wasn’t an official stop-off point, but it looked to have been used by many people before you as a resting place for an impromptu swim. So you stepped out of the car with your stuff and Loki in tow, looking out across the water, feeling a pleasant lack of a tightened throat or a queasy knot in your stomach.

“I feel okay,” you nodded, a small smile of disbelief pulling into one of your cheeks. “I really do.” You turned to Loki then looked back at the water as you threw your towel down on the grass.

“Shall we, then?”

You’d be lying if you said your throat didn’t feel a little tight as you neared the edge of the water, even as you took your first steps in up to your ankles. “Jeez, that’s cold!” You sucked your teeth but kept walking, not wanting to give yourself the chance to back out.

“Might you want to slow down?” Loki chuckled nervously, wading in beside you as the water began to lap at your mid-thighs. You paused and took a deep breath in before submerging your hands in the autumn-laden lake. Swirling your hands around, letting the water kiss your wrists and flow between your fingers, you let that breath out and took another step.

Unfortunately, the water was dark enough that you hadn’t seen the abrupt drop-off. With a gasp, you stepped off into nothing and were suddenly entirely underwater. Shouts and splashes resounded around you before you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you back up into the shallower part.

“Are you okay?” Loki‘s nervous breath panted in your ear as you wiped the hair from your eyes. You were shaking, but with a wry smile you realised it was just from the cold. Placing a hand on Loki’s forearm and giving it a reassuring squeeze, you nodded.

“I’m okay.”

He released you hesitantly and you rubbed your goosebump-covered arms, a small blush blooming across your nose and cheeks as you tried to smooth your water-whipped hair. Looking back towards the deeper part, you gave one glance to Loki before turning to it again.

“You don’t have t-”

“I’m ready. This is my choice,” you nodded with a brave toothless smile, then took a deep breath and dove into the deep.

It welcomed you with open arms, besetting every inch of the skin you willingly surrendered to its call. Ceasing to shiver the second it surrounded you, the pre-winter water caressed and refreshed your bones, an all-encompassing experience. The vastness of the deep was only broken by the small bubbles leaving your nose as you rose back to the surface, and then its cover was blown open by your head breaking the swell, a cool breath filling your lungs at the moment of breakthrough. The breath was released immediately as you began treading water. The warm releasing air hit your lips and prompted you to grin as you made to turn around to marvel to Loki at your own fearlessness.

Instead of just a grin, also a surprised squeak left your delighted lips as Loki’s head broke the surface of the water right behind you. He’d followed your suit seconds after, breaking through the deep and flicking the hair from his eyes as he treaded water next to you. Like with most things, he made it look easy.

Your grin turned cheeky. “Told you I wasn’t scared.”

He half-grinned back, his a little mischievous. “That you did.”

Letting it fall silent, you let yourself take in the sounds of nature around you. Allowing the water to carry you, to hold you gently, you let your feet drift upwards and leaned back to be floating on your back. Your ears were below the water’s surface and so all you could hear was the strange pressure shifts from the depths, the close-by movement of Loki in the water near you, and your own heartbeat in your ears. It sounded calm. Your eyes closed and you took some deep breaths, letting yourself be proud of how far you’d come before dropping your feet back down and treading water.

“It feel strange,” you said to Loki, who was looking up at the sky. He casted his glance to you. “It feels new, but like déjà vu, being in the water like this without fear.”

“It does,” he agreed with a nod.

“It’s kind of the same old, same old now,” you bit you lip and looked around. Loki scoffed.

“Are you saying you’re bored?”

“Not bored, just… unenthused.” Something touched your foot and you gasped, kicking out as best you could against the nothingness. “Ew, I think there are eels in here,” you scrunched your nose and gave Loki an unhappy look. He grinned wider and winked, then the same feeling crossed along the bottom of your foot. You squeaked the time and scowled at him.

“Hey!” Another one against your ankle, another squeak. “H-how are you doing that?” You had to laugh as his magic manipulated the water around you, swiping at you with small tentacle-like spurts. He nodded to the water next to him and you watched a small stream shoot out, very much like an eel, wriggling and squirming through the air before hitting the lake and dissolving. He conjured a few more to nip around your legs and hands but you just smirked, the magician’s trick being revealed having assuaged your unease.

“Still bored?” He beguiled with a final burst of magic, shooting the smallest stream possible up to hit you in the back of the head.

“Lokihi!” You chuckled, then splashed him straight in the mouth. He turned and spat out some water and you shrugged. “You deserved that,” you chuckled again. “Just because I’ve conquered my fear, doesn’t mean you can be a pain in the a- PLBFF!” A splash to your own face made you recoil and laugh in shock. “Okay, that’s it!” You seethed with an incredulous smirk before splashing as hard as you could at Loki.

“Careful, Agent!” He warned with a chuckle before reaching out and seizing your wrists in his grasp. You knew a silly grin was plastered across your cheeks as you giggled at his uncharacteristically disheveled hair.

“Come on now, Loki,” you tilted your head with a sly wink as you gestured to your hands his grasp. “You wouldn’t do anything to me in the water after I worked so hard to conquer my fear?”

He choked, barked, out a laugh. “You must be cured if you‘re using it against me now,” he smirked and you felt those magical water eels nipping at your legs again.

“HEY!” You squeaked. They felt much more real this time, making you squirm in a strange discomfort. He used his magic to swipe the water along your hip and knee, then grinned as you squeaked once more at the absolute crowd of his magic swimming at your feet. You gave a breathy laugh and tugged on your wrists, ducking your head down to hide the fact you were biting your lip from the feeling of the magic swiping at your bare toes. It was the weirdest fluid sensation, but it was starting to get pretty ticklish. “L-Loki-” you sniffled and giggled, “Okay, cut it ouhout!”

“What for?” He asked, voice full of teasing mischief.

“Loki!” You squealed as the magic whipped and nipped at the backs of your knees. Your whole body wriggled against his hold on your wrists.

He chuckled. “What’s the matter, hmm?”

Before you could respond, one of those squiggling streams of manipulated water slid itself up under your arm. He knew what he was doing, the rat bastard. In clamping your arm shut with a surprised laugh, the action brought you even closer to Loki - who used the momentum and your distraction to slip one of his arms over your head, and spin you around so your back was flush against his chest with your wrists still in his hands. “You didn’t honestly expect I’d forget about your little sensitivities, did you?” With your arms crossed over your chest, being pinned against your shoulders, Loki chuckled deviously in your ear as he summoned his magic to attack your exposed belly.

“LOKIHI!” You yelled out and threw your head back against his shoulder as laughter bubbled over your lips from the feeling of a dozen little streams of hard water worming their way around your stomach. The spouts nestled into your skin until they broke under the pressure of your body, only for another to take its place seconds after. Snivelling and giggling hard, the maddeningly soft tickling weakened your resolve as you pulled on your wrists in Loki’s hands. “N-nuh-n-noho,” you squeaked and shut your eyes tight, trying to block out the squirming and nipping. It certainly wasn‘t unbearable, but probably as unbearable as water could be.

“I’m delighted you’re learning to find the fun in water again,” Loki chuckled as you squealed against the feeling of his magic targeting at your hips. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.” You could hear the shit-eating grin on his lips.

“Youhou’re soho RUDE!” You feel into new desperate giggles, bringing your knees up to curl in on yourself as a little water tentacle wiggled at your bellybutton.

“Tsk, not enjoying yourself?” He sighed dramatically. “I suppose I’ll have to get my hands dirty.”

He suddenly released your wrists, released his magic, and snatched you around the waist to keep you close as he wrapped you up and began pinching his fingers at the sides of your lowest ribs.

“Nuh-ho!” You shrieked with high-pitched giggles and jerked around in his grip. Your ability to flail, to gain momentum and leverage to fight him off, was severely diminished by the water resistance, so all your kicks were at half-speed.

Loki’s warm laughter rumbled through his chest and nuzzled into your back as he relentlessly pinched his fingers higher up your ribcage. A yelp left your lips before you shut your eyes and leaned further back into Loki’s chest, frantic laughter echoing off the surface of the lake as you pushed your hands at his forearms. He settled his fingers wide across your ribs, softly digging his fingertips against the bones and the susceptible gaps between them as you descended further into laughter and leaned even further back, your feet now breaking the surface as they kicked around in ticklish reaction.

“Honestly, Agent, this is a liability in the field,” he teased, tickling one hand down the length of your side to knead at your hip and force your splashing feet away from the surface of the water. “A mighty Avenger rendered a hopeless mess from this?” He circled his thumb against your hipbone and you screamed out, falling into loud belly-laughter as he continued on his course while beginning to slowly bring you two closer back to the shore.

“I cahan’t,” you wheezed out, curling your knees up to your chest in resignation as Loki scratched and squeezed at your hips. But now with your knees right there, he shot his hands through the water and looped them around the backs of your legs to keep you pinned in your curled-up position. “NOhoho!” You squealed and pushed against him even as he swam you both towards the shore. Not that you could see, with your eyes tightly shut. “Loki, I cahahan’t,” you sniffed through your near-silent laughter.

“Ah, bad spot?” He grinned against your ear and teasingly fluttered his fingers against where they sat wrapped around the underside of your thighs.

You screeched loud and thrashed in his arms, Loki letting out a surprised laugh at your reaction. Settling into a squealing hiccupy laughter, you hit your hands against his as you babbled your pleas for him to stop swiping his fingers against the hypersensitive skin.

“P-Pl-Lohok-LOKI-I cahan’t NAAH!” You shrieked and squeaked, giggling and squirming away as best you could until he eventually unwrapped his arms from where he was holding you and you paddled yourself away as fast you could. You let out the residual giggles and caught your breath, turning to catch Loki grinning over at where you where kneeling in the shallows. Your ticklish grin was quickly replaced with a fake-indignant scowl as you splashed the water hard at him. “Ahasshole!” You scoffed.

“Ah, haven’t had enough, have we?” He glowered mischievously and lunged for you, causing you to yell out and scurry backwards. His hand caught yours and he pulled you back into his arms. “Perhaps another fear you need my assistance in conquering?”

“No, thank you,” you muttered with a blush, squirming a bit until you realised he hadn’t resumed his playful torture. The cool late-afternoon air began biting at your ears and shoulders, and so you looked to your towels on the side of the road. Loki sensed this and stood with you in his arms, exposing your wet skin to the freezing air and causing you to yelp from the freezing shock. He chuckled and made some comments about Jotunheim as he hoisted you higher and waded towards the shore teasingly slowly. “Loki!” You squeaked again, shivering in his arms as he finally stepped out of the lake and released you to get dry.

A thought occurred to you. An idea you couldn‘t ignore or push aside.

“There’s one more thing I think I need to do,” you towelled off and stepped behind a tree to change into your dry clothes.

“That being…?”

“Uh... Just trust me,” you replied, stripping off and quickly pulling on the clean clothing before heading to the car with a skeptical demigod. Punching some directions into the self-driving AI’s GPS, you sat back in the seat and glanced to where Loki’s intense stare met your eye.

“Where are you taking us?” His demand was as such - a demand, but it was a soft curiosity.

“Just some place I used to go. You’ll have to wait and see.”

It wasn’t that far to the falls from the lake you’d swam in. Not nearly far enough for your mind to turn over on itself and convince you that you wouldn’t be okay there. It was important, you knew, to face the behemoth. The large mass of water. To stare it in the face and know you weren’t afraid.

Loki caught the sight of it out the window as you approached the lookout. It was still a grey and drizzly day, so the cliffside car park was empty as the car came to a stop. “Are you sure about this?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, fingers closing around the door handle. “I need to. Being in the water was a lot of it, this- the sound... it’s what brings it all back.”

So you opened the door and the wall of noise hit you. The waterfall sounded more like white noise than water, which you supposed shouldn’t surprise you as much as it did.

Loki stepped out of the other side and shot you a glance over the top of the car. You gave him a small, brave smile and nodded, closing the door and beginning your short journey to the fenced-in lookout near the top of the waterfall.

The gravel crunched beneath your shoes as you made your way there, watching your feet until they met the paved concrete expanse of the formal lookout area. It was near-deafening - the millions of gallons of water collapsing each second, down more than a hundred feet under where you stood. Your fingers met the cool metal railing as you reached the fence and finally looked up at the waterfall.

It was huge and terrifying and mighty and magnificent. How much power this one corner of the earth contained made your jaw go slack. Of course you’d seen and heard waterfalls before, swum around them, dived off a few, taken pictures. But this time was different. This time, it was like you were facing a worthy opponent. Something which deserved reverence and respect.

“It’s beautiful,” you said softly, somewhat to Loki as he stood by your side and you let yourself truly listen to its song. To its whispering scream, all the ways it was telling you it could tear you apart, but not if you were careful.

“It is,” Loki agreed, and you could hear him perfectly.

Maybe water couldn’t take over everything.

As you stood and watched and listened for several minutes, you finally let out a content sigh and a satisfied smile. “I’m okay,” you declared. And it was true. “I’m okay.”

Loki didn’t say anything, you just saw him turn to you from the corner of your eye and do something like a nod.

“You’ve seemed totally unfazed throughout this entire thing,” you commented as you turned to face him. “I wish my fear could’ve manifested like yours. Save me some humiliation with the team.”

“I can assure you the process is still difficult.”

“You don’t need to pretend to be as afraid of the water as I was. I appreciate your help and your resilience, but you’ve clearly been fine every time we’ve gone in together.”

Loki averted his eyes, his tongue slipped out to lick his lips before he bit the side of his tongue and decided against saying something. You felt your brow lower in confusion, and in question, then your head tilted and your voice became a warning sign.

“Loki… what aren’t you telling me?”

“I-...” he sighed closed his eyes, then sighed before looking at you, resigned. “I wasn’t afraid of the water.”

“Loki!” You groaned, placing a hand against your forehead before waving it in question. “Why would you lie to me like that?”

He held his hands out in defence. “I didn’t lie. I didn’t. I simply… omitted some information.”

“You told me you were petrified.”

“Yes, but not of the water - of losing you.”

… Oh.

Your stunned silence made him pause, bite his tongue and nod his head until he was looking downwards.

You softened with realisation. “That’s why you checked on me that first night; you were afraid I wouldn’t be there.” He let a deep breath out in response and met your eye as you continued. “And why you seemed to calm down when I was around- when you could see me. Right?”

He breathed deeply once more and casted his gaze out to the waterfall. “I still find myself short of breath when you’re elsewhere. You seem to have overcome your fears better than I.”

“Maybe I should give you some space, then.” You rubbed your upper arm nervously.

“That’s not what I’m asking for.”

“Yeah, but is that what you need?”

“Don’t,” Loki shook his head. “Don’t say such things.”

“I want you to be okay too,” you urged with a sigh, placing your hand over his where it sat on the railing. “You can’t let fear that something will happen to me rule your mind.”

“My concerns are not unfounded,” he argued.

“What, you don’t think I can handle myself?”

“Of course you can.”

“People in my line of work don’t die of old age. Something is going to get me eventually.”

Loki shook his head and looked away, over to the falls. “I’d rather not speak of a time when this realm will exist without you.”

That made your breath catch in your throat, but there was still a pit in your stomach that you needed to address. “Loki… trauma is tricky and I don’t think-”

“No. This isn’t because of the incident,” he promised, with that same earnestness that his voice had held when he promised you didn’t need to get in the pool that first time.

“How can you be sure?”

“I saw a glimpse of this realm without you in it, and it was unbearable. Our near-demise did not create this depth of my need for you, it revealed such truth.”

You let out a big breath and looked over towards the falls, just as he had. “Those are some big words,” you bit your lower lip. “How can you be sure?” You looked back to him. “That this is real, and not just trauma?”

He shifted the hand you’d covered his with to lace his fingers between yours,

“I can be a selfish and cruel man. I can put my desires before anyone else’s needs… Thor can attest,” he hummed a sad smile, then focused on your hand in his as he explained, “If I didn’t care for you, I’d have torn that door to shreds to save your life. To Hel with anyone in the way,” he said sincerely, and it sent a shiver up your spine. “But… you. I knew your heart would not bear it, if anyone else were to be killed in the pursuit of your rescue.” Loki softened, watching how your fingers relaxed through his so naturally. “Assign to it what poetic meaning you will, but I believe it speaks volumes.”

“You’d let me die if saving me would put others in harm’s way?”

Loki winced, “When you say it like that, I sound like a fool. Weak.”

You squeezed his hand, “You sound strong,” you said, bringing a hand up to the side of his jaw and make him look at you. “It sounds like you overcame your fear before you knew you had it.” He placed his other hand on yours and held it firmer against his skin. “Who could do that but a god… but you, Loki? You’re amazing.”

He twitched a smile, and masked his flattery with a small scolding, “Careful what you say, Agent. I’ve been told I already think too highly of myself,” he held your hand in place as he turned his head to place a tender kiss against it. You smiled, a small blush blooming across your cheeks. Loki’s smile widened into a grin as he started moving around you. You held your breath as that blush burned a little brighter, but he didn’t kiss you like you thought he may have. Instead, he used his hands on yours to turn you to face the sheer grandeur of the waterfall, placing himself behind you. Still with your hands in his, he wrapped his arms around your waist and allowed you to relax your back into his chest as you watched the water together. “Are you nervous, my little lionheart?” Loki mused close to your ear, and your cheeks went up in flames at the nickname.

“I don’t think so.”

“Of course not. They tell stories on Asgard, of bravery like yours.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” you giggled, nudging your elbow against his ribs.

“Mmm, my mighty warrior,” Loki chuckled in a low growl, nudging his nose behind your ear. “With the courage of a Valkyrie.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning nonetheless. “Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“You did ask me to.” You felt him shrug. “Who would I be, to not grant your earnest request?” He chuckled again and squeezed you close. You let yourself calm and fill with peace at the safety of his hold, nearly melting into the warm security of the feeling of him.

“Thank you,” you said softly. “For helping me with all of this. I’m sorry you had to deal with me like that.”

“Nonsense,” Loki squeezed you once more. “Enough of that malarkey or I’ll make you eat your words.”

You giggled at his indignation and rubbed your thumb over his fingers. “All I’m saying is that I- n-noho wahait!” More giggles streamed through your lips as Loki dug his fingers into your waist with a low growl. Slipping your hands away from his, you shoved at his fingers even as you leaned more into his chest. “Okahay!” You squeaked. “Okay, okay, LOKIHI!” He’d pinched at your hips and made you yelp out a laugh before backing off, but keeping his hands on the sensitive place as a warning.

“Care to try again?” You could hear his smirk next to your ear.

“Well, this isn’t fair,” you grumbled through blushing lips, shifting a bit as you became aware of the placement of his fingers. “But, thank you, Loki. For your help.”

He was silent for a minute as you two kept watching the waterfall. The mass of water, the vapour billowing away in clouds, the mighty churning in the pool at the bottom. Then, Loki moved his hands to catch yours again before pressing his lips next to your ear. “There’s nothing in the Nine Realms, in Yggdrasil, in all the universes - nothing I would not do for you.”

You took a deep breath, and asked, “Help me keep my world safe.”

“I swear it.”

“Even after it takes me,” you added, turning in his arms to give him a level look, to help him understand how much this meant to you. He looked back and forth between your eyes as his own narrowed, as his mind navigated through the fear of one day losing you, but he nodded and firmed his hands on your lower back.

“On the thrones of Asgard and Jotunheim, I swear it.”

You smiled, and then you slid your hands up his chest, closed your fingers around the fabric of his collar and used it to pull him down into a sweet and tender kiss.

The first of many.

It was nearly dark by the time you left the lookout of the waterfall, hand-in-hand on the short walk back to the car, fingers tangled in his own for the duration of the ride home. Nothing scandalous, nothing dastardly, simply being together.

The second you two entered the compound you were greeted by his older brother. Loki gave you no room to doubt his affections, nor his intentions of being open about them, as he held your hand a little tighter when Thor approached.

“Ah, Loki,” Thor grinned with an air of victory. “Just the person I was looking for.”

“Yes, brother, what is it you need?” Loki asked, somewhat impatiently. Then, he noticed Thor was holding something behind his back. “What is that you’re hiding?”

“See, you told me I’d fail,” Thor lifted his head, still with that cocky smile. “Now you may eat your words, brother.”

You had to stop yourself from laughing as Thor revealed what he was holding behind his back, pulling his hand in front of him to showcase the smallest pumpkin you’d ever seen. Or perhaps it only looked comically small because of how large Thor’s hands were, but it couldn’t have been more than a few inches in diameter.

“The harvest has begun!” Thor exclaimed with a grin, turning to continue on is path.

From the corner of your eye you saw Loki about to open his mouth to say something, probably something snarky, so you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. His eyes shot to you as the words died in his mouth, replaced by a subtle and content smile. Then, he spoke, “A great victory, brother,” he said, not taking his eyes off you. “Well done.”

“That was sweet,” you teased when Thor was out of earshot.

“He earned his victory,” Loki conceded with a smirk and pulled you into him, wrapping an arm over your shoulder as he walked you to your room.

“You did salvage his pumpkin patch,” you pointed out, lacing your fingers through the hand of his forearm perched on your shoulder.

“Victories need not be won alone,” he answered. “Much like yours. No one did that for you.”

“I wouldn’t call it a victory. More of a… return to normalcy. You did most of the heavy lifting.”

“I won’t tolerate you speaking ill of yourself,” Loki warned, hints of both sincerity and playfulness in his voice.

You scoffed, “I’m giving credit where credit’s due,” you argued. “You’re the one who got me through this.” You entered your room and he placed your bags down, turning to run his hands over your shoulders.

“All those steps taken were your own. I did not force you. You overcame this,” he urged, giving your arms a squeeze. “No one can take that from you.”

“Yeah, but- hehey!” You giggled as Loki swept you off your feet and tossed you onto your bed before covering you with himself as you laughed and playfully swatted at him. He caught your wrists and held them beside your head before placing a sweet and fiery kiss to your lips.

“I won’t tolerate it,” he said again, this time grinning against your mouth. “Now, you may force my hands to silence you in other ways,” he smirked and shot a hand down to wiggle his fingers against your ribs, making you giggle and squirm beneath him.

“Noho fair!”

He paused, fingers still in place. “Or, you may allow me to cease such talk by kissing you senseless. Either way, I will not listen to words spoken against you, especially from your own lips.”

You grinned and looked up into his determined eyes, lacing your free hand through the hair at the nape of his neck, choosing the option that pulled him in for a deep and passionate kiss.

You let him kiss you senseless, in the same way you let him be that strong and steady anchor in the water. In the same way he let you conquer your own battles, and the way he himself was still overcoming the fear of losing you.

Loki once said an unearned victory was a fate worse than defeat, and now you knew a shared victory was a fate sweeter than life itself.

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lizslibrary · 1 year

Text

*Wolf Whistle*

Refuse to Lose

Word count: 12,800

Pairings: Loki x reader (pre-dating romantic), Wanda x Vision (romantic)

Warnings: HOLY HELL the sexual tension 🚨🚨🔥🔥 (but still nothing explicit)

OK, OK - this is my first time incorporating FOUR prompts (I think) in one fic, and it was a TON of fun to write this one!! And I'm super excited there was so much hype for this - I hope it lives up to your expectations 😊

I kind of took the prompts and ran with them... like... sprinted is more like it 😂😂 I hope this isn't too far off from what you lovely anons were looking for! The main difference versus the prompts is there's not a current secret relationship going on between reader and Loki (although there may as well be...) but I think I'll use that in another fic at some point because I love the idea! Pre-dating just felt right for this one!

A reminder of the prompts included:

Prompt - Loki knows he can fluster the reader with ease, and frequently exploits it. Reader is determined to get him back

Prompt - reader likes to fluster Loki with pick up lines in front of the others. He won’t be having that.

prompt where Loki notices reader can’t figure out what to do when others are talking about tickling

prompt with Vision and Wanda

And as promised, tagging @quillsandtypos 😊 (And also @writingfics-passingtime for helping me work through intermittent writer's block 💚)

"Ooh, hang on- stop channel surfing, I want to watch that!" Wanda grabbed hold of your outstretched wrist where you were holding the remote pointed at the television, snagging the device from your hand.

"Hey!"

"Oh, stop. It's not like you were going to pick anything to watch in the next ten minutes anyway," she tutted, flipping the channel back to her favorite show.

"Wanda, this is a rerun," you groaned.

"I don't care! It's such a good show!"

"No it's not!"

She shot you an appalled look. "What makes you think it's so terrible?!"

"It's completely overdramatized!" You gesticulated to the screen where one of the lead female characters was stammering like a fool while talking to some guy. "I mean, honestly!"

"Wh- no it isn't!"

You scoffed. "Wanda, honestly. You can watch this and tell me it's realistic? I mean, look at this girl! She's completely lost the ability to form a coherent thought, and the guy literally just said hi to her!"

"Pshh. You can't tell me that you've never gotten flustered over someone like that."

"Have you?" you retorted.

"Uh, yeah. Before Vision and I started dating." Her expression softened as she reminisced. "God, he was just so adorable."

"Well, maybe you have fallen victim to that sort of thing, but I haven't."

"Not once?" she asked skeptically.

"Not once."

"Oh, I seriously doubt that."

The baritone voice could only belong to a certain God of Mischief. Sure enough, you turned your head toward the sound to see a smirking Loki standing behind the sofa.

"Do you make it a habit to eavesdrop on other people's conversations?" you chastised.

"Not usually. But the pair of you aren't exactly quiet." You narrowed your eyes at his comment. "In any case - I don't believe you when you say you're immune to something that is engrained within your mortal nature."

"Is not!"

Loki chuckled. "Alright. Whatever you say." Without another word, he turned and left the room. Rolling your eyes, you turned to Wanda.

"He thinks he's a gift from the gods, I swear," you muttered. She smirked.

"Does he think that? Or do you?"

"Excuse me??"

Wanda shrugged, returning her attention to the television. "I'm just saying - he didn't say a word to suggest that you might get that way around him. You jumped to that conclusion."

"Oh-ho, I don't think so." Huffing, you stood from the sofa and left the room, leaving Wanda to watch the awful show she had insisted on.

The whole interaction did have you a bit rattled, though you'd never admit it to your friend. If anyone were capable of getting you worked up over nothing like that woman in the show - not that you were saying it was possible, but if it were - it was Loki. You weren't sure what to call your relationship with him, in all honesty. It seemed to vary based on the situation. You seemed to kind of flirt the line between friends and... well, more than friends. And the tension had really started to build over the last few months, like a shaken bottle of soda just waiting to explode the moment the cap untwisted.

You were on your guard for a couple weeks after that, expecting that at any moment Loki might try to do or say something to make you stutter. But when those weeks went by without so much as an attempt from the trickster, you started to think that maybe he'd just forgotten the whole conversation had ever happened. Or, maybe Wanda was right, and you were projecting your own feelings onto his reaction.

But you should have known better. Loki didn't forget, he only bided his time. And he loved an excuse to cause mischief.

The day you first fell into the crosshairs of his chaotic ways started fairly uneventfully. It was a Saturday morning, and you were making groggy conversation with Nat, Steve, and Bucky as the four of you lazily drank coffee at the small table in the kitchen. Eventually, the growling in your stomach was audible even to your friends over the sound of your idle chatter, and so you shuffled over to the fridge and began to prepare yourself some breakfast.

"Wait - are you making pancakes?" Bucky asked, a glazed look in his eyes as he observed you hopefully. You laughed at his lack of subtlety.

"Are you asking me to make some for you too?"

"Ooh, hang on, if he's getting some then I want some," Steve interjected. Rolling your eyes, you couldn't help but grin at their obvious love of your pancake prowess.

"Oh... alright. Nat, you want some too?" you asked.

"Hey - if you're offering, I'm not saying no," she replied.

"Fine, but you guys have to keep me company while I cook."

You busied yourself mixing the pancake batter and getting the pan heated on the stovetop. The three hungry Avengers waiting for you to finish at least kept their word and made conversation with you while you cooked. As you finished the first stack of pancakes, Bucky snuck up to the counter and snagged the plate, swapping it for an empty one and bringing the fresh pancakes to the table to eat them while they were still warm. The moment you noticed, you turned around and scolded the soldier, wagging the spatula at him threateningly.

"Bucky! You could at least wait until I'm finished making the pancakes before scarfing them down like some animal!"

"Did you say you're making pancakes?"

Thor's booming voice echoed from the doorway, drawing your attention. The first thing you noticed when you glanced over was not Thor, but his younger brother, who was standing beside him with his eyes fixed on you. It made your heart rate tick up ever so slightly to feel his gaze, as it often did. You never allowed your nervousness to show on your face, despite the fact that your crush on the tall, dark, and handsome Asgardian god only grew with the passage of time. Because unlike the woman in that show, you had some self control over your reactions.

You shot him a half grin, which he returned with one of his own, his eyes flashing in the way they always did when he smiled at you.

"Are you gonna ask me to make more for you?" you groaned at Thor, glancing at the dwindling bowl of pancake batter and trying to eyeball whether you had enough left to satiate the hulking God of Thunder's appetite. Unlikely, you thought.

"That would be wonderful!" Thor strode over to join Bucky, Steve and Nat, scooping up a fork from the table and stabbing the top pancake to steal for himself.

With a heaving sigh, you moved to the fridge to pull out more ingredients for another batch of pancake batter. Loki strolled over to you, a poorly disguised pleading look in his eyes. You narrowed yours, fighting the amused grin threatening to spread across your face in favor of trying to look annoyed.

"Do you want me to make you some too, Loki?" you groaned, pulling the carton of eggs out of the fridge.

"Would you? That would be wonderful, pet."

The egg carton slipped from your grasp and dropped to the floor with a crunch.

Loki 's eyebrows shot up his forehead, a smug smirk suddenly tugging at the corners of his mouth as your cheeks slowly began to grow warm. What had he just called you? And in front of four other people, no less?

The thought of the others led you to the realization that there was no longer casual chatter sounding from the table. Your gaze flitted over to the four hungry Avengers awaiting their breakfast, who were now staring at you in confusion having witnessed you drop half a dozen eggs on the floor. Clearing your throat awkwardly, you collected the fragments of your composure as you reached for the roll of paper towels.

"Sorry, slipped," you mumbled, turning your gaze to the floor as you stooped to wipe up the egg mess. You felt a slight breeze as Loki knelt down beside you, holding his hand out expectantly for the paper towels so he could assist.

"What was that?" he whispered, the tone of amusement evident even in his hushed voice. You glanced swiftly at the table, confirming the others had returned to their own conversation before whipping your head back to glare at the mischievous and maddeningly pleased-looking god.

"Loki! You can't do that in front of everyone!" you hissed.

"Do what?"

"You know what. Calling me that."

"Calling you my pet?"

You had to fight to withhold a flustered squeak. "YES."

"Why not?"

You knew based on the self-satisfied expression gracing his features that he knew exactly why not - he simply wanted to make you say it.

"It's... ugh just... just..."

"You're quite flustered." His smirk grew impossibly wider. You turned your gaze away from him because you simply couldn't keep looking at the damned smug look on his face anymore.

"I hate you." You wiped up the last of the egg yolk from the floor, tossing the paper towels into the messy egg carton.

"So if I can't do it 'in front of everyone,' does that mean I can call you that behind closed doors?"

You weren't sure your face could get any hotter.

"I'm done having this conversation." You scooped the egg carton off the floor, rising to your feet and ducking your head to hide your flushed face as you tossed the mess in the trash and returned to the fridge in search of more eggs.

You couldn't look at Loki the rest of the morning without thinking about the little nickname he'd chosen for you. And you knew without a doubt he'd be continuing to hold this ability to fluster you with a word over your head. You simply had to mentally prepare yourself before he tried again. Block it out of your mind.

It was only hours later when he tried again.

You were in the training room getting some target practice in with the throwing knives you'd been training with for the past couple of months. Loki had been the one to show you how to hold the hilt properly and how to release at the right time to send the blade sailing toward the target. It had only been an added bonus that he had to hold your hand and place his hands on your waist to help you position yourself correctly the first few times. It certainly wasn't the reason you'd decided to practice with the knives in the first place.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Loki hovering a few feet away as you prepared your stance to throw the first blade. With a steadying breath, you blocked out the buzz of the other Avengers completing their own workouts around the room, honing your focus on the target. With a skilled flick of your wrist, you sent the blade across the room, sinking it into the third ring from the center of the target.

"Very good, pet," Loki hummed, drawing your attention. Having noticed him observing you, you'd mentally prepared yourself this time for the nickname. With a smirk, you folded your arms haughtily across your chest.

"Thanks. One of these days I'll give you a run for your money."

Loki looked slightly disappointed at your lack of reaction, but you could see the gears turning in his head. He wasn't going to let it drop that easily.

As you continued to practice, Wanda came over to join you. Despite the fact that she vehemently denied it, you were convinced she used magic when she practiced with the throwing knives. Hers nearly always hit the dead center of the target.

"Why can't I ever get a bullseye?" you groaned in frustration after your last blade hit the second ring from the center. In all honesty, you'd forgotten Loki had been intermittently watching you practice, and so you were startled by the proximity of his voice in your ear.

"You'll just need to keep practicing, princess."

You were glad you didn't have any more knives in your hand because they'd have surely clattered to the floor. Perhaps that's why he waited until you'd thrown the last one to say it.

In any case, you were caught so off-guard by this even more flustering pet name that you felt your face catch fire. You whipped your head around to stare wide-eyed at Loki, trying to ignore the confused but entertained look on Wanda's face beside you. With a huff, you strode off to collect your knives from the target, mostly to give yourself an excuse to walk away.

"What's got you so flustered, princess?" Loki teased, following you toward the targets.

"Nope!" you called back to him, refusing to turn around.

"How am I to understand if you won't tell me?"

You grasped the hilt of one of your blades, tugging it free from the wooden target and shooting Loki a silent glare. Everything in you wanted to wipe that smug smirk off his face. He merely shrugged at you, leaning close and reaching over your shoulder to pull one of your other blades free from the target, holding it out toward you.

"Thank you, my prince," you sang with a grin. Loki chuckled, shaking his head.

"You'll have to try harder than that, princess."

With that, he sauntered on his way, leaving you standing there with two of your blades in your hands and your jaw hanging slightly agape. Oh, he was infuriating. But you were bound and determined to get him back. No way was he immune to blushing. You just had to tease out what flustered the God of Mischief.

Clearly it didn't bother him in the slightest when you called him a pet name with a sassy bite to your voice. You supposed that was understandable. Perhaps the key was in how you said it. It was certainly worth a try.

Your opportunity came that evening when you happened across Loki and Thor seated on the sofa playing some sort of card game you didn't recognize. From the surfaces of the few cards you could see from the doorway, it appeared it was a game from Asgard - they were adorned with a completely foreign language to you. In any case, the two of them seemed heavily invested in the game - so much so that you actually might stand a chance at sneaking up on the trickster, who prided himself on being impervious to surprises.

Silently, you crept up behind the sofa, hovering over the two brothers as they played cards from their hands, interlaced with shouts and gripes at one another. With the tiniest of smirks, you leaned close to Loki, gently brushing his hair away from his ear as you growled seductively.

"What are you up to, my prince?"

The effect was immediate. He stiffened, his mouth falling slightly open with his eyes wide. There was a dusting of pink coating his usually pale complexion that you doubted you'd ever seen there before. Regaining his composure slightly, Loki turned his head gradually to glower at you.

Meanwhile, Thor - who had clearly heard what you said - looked positively delighted and amused at his brother's reaction. His blue eyes lifted to meet yours, a huge grin on his face.

"Have I missed something? Are the two of you romantic partners?"

"Oh, no. I just discovered how very flustered our dear prince becomes when I call him such," you explained, winking at Loki before turning on your heel and waltzing proudly out of the room. The bewildered trickster god was left to come up with some further form of an explanation to his brother for what in Valhalla was going on between the two of you.

Take that, God of Mischief, you thought.

* * *

Loki had to admit - he was taken aback by the ease with which you managed to find a way to make him blush. He certainly expected you would try. Perhaps he had underestimated the degree of power you held over him.

But, if there was one thing he'd learned in this little game the two of you had unknowingly entered into, it was that he, too, held a significant advantage over you. And the God of Mischief does not back down from a challenge. He simply had to up his game a bit - find something that wiped the smirk right off your face and replaced it with a heated blush.

He began to do what he did best - observing you perceptively to determine what it was that could get under your skin. Those little nicknames he used on you still worked well enough if he caught you off guard, but he suspected he could do better. Not to mention, every time he managed to get you flustered with a cutesy name, you turned around and got your revenge within hours. You and your damned sultry voice in his ear, calling him your prince. Oh, if you knew what you were doing to him.

A week later he stumbled upon his answer.

The team had been drinking socially and hanging out in the tower lounge during a night of down time. Tony, of course, had reached a pleasant state of tipsiness that had him reminiscing about the past, back when ‘everything was simpler’ and ‘there were no boogey men coming to destroy the world.’ Loki rolled his eyes at that, remaining seated in his corner away from the others lest Tony decide to bring up his run in with the chitauri years ago.

Engrossed in his book, Loki missed a solid portion of the conversation going on amongst the slightly inebriated heroes. He did sneak a glance at you from time to time, not certain if he was more proud or disappointed that you had switched to drinking water after only a couple glasses. The part of him that cared for you respected that you were being the responsible one - after all, someone had to take care of Tony if he got completely sloshed, and given the fact that Thor had just begun passing around Asgardian mead to the more alcohol tolerant superhuman beings of the group, the possible candidates for the job were becoming limited. But his mischievous nature told him a tipsier you might have been easier to pull a blush out of.

Loki missed whatever sequence of events led up to what happened next, but suddenly Stark was setting up some sort of audio device with microphones and a holographic screen.

“Man, I haven’t done karaoke in years,” Stark lamented. He pointed over at Steve and Bucky. “You guys are gonna love it, just watch.”

Nat snorted at the idea. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“What, you don’t think I can sing?” Steve retorted. Nat held her hands up in defense.

“Hey, you’re welcome to prove me wrong.”

Steve snatched the microphone from Tony, grabbing Bucky by the arm and dragging the protesting super soldier to his feet. “Oh, we will. Don’t worry.”

If it weren’t for the infernal Midgardian music, the singing wouldn’t have been all that bad. The super soldiers were certainly not crooners, but they could at least hold a tune pretty well. Wanda and Vision admittedly sounded great together during a duet, and even Bruce, fueled by a bit of liquid courage, was a decent singer. Loki was disappointed to see you politely decline when Tony held the microphone out to you. He would have been quite curious to hear your singing voice.

“Brother!” Thor shouted, stomping over to where Loki sat. “Come! Sing with me!”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Why would I-”

“Oh come on, Thor. Loki can’t sing.”

It was your voice he heard, cutting him off mid sentence. His eyes darted to you, where you stood leaning against the back of one of the sofas looking somewhat amused by the idea. He was going to decline, tell Thor he wouldn’t be caught dead singing that Midgardian trash they call music, but now he wasn’t about to back down. You challenged him, and he was stepping up to it.

He rose to his feet, his eyes fixated on you as he slowly paced over to the group.

“Oh, can’t I?” he asked, smirking at you.

“I doubt it.”

Loki cleared his throat once, and then he began to sing an Asgardian hymn. It had a melody that was languid and melancholy, the lyrics alluding to a scorned lover pining for his beloved. Not that you could ever know that - you didn't speak a word of his native tongue.

When he'd begun to sing, his intention was to prove to you he could, given you seemed so convinced that he couldn't (or perhaps that he wouldn't). He kept his gaze firmly affixed on you as he sang the lyrics in his usual velvety rich baritone timbre. After only a moment, your expression began to twist before his eyes, color blossoming in your cheeks.

Interesting.

He'd never considered this before. Mortals had such an aversion to singing in front of others, which was not a sentiment shared by Asgardians. It had never occurred to him that you might become pleasantly flustered if he were to sing to you. For you. And yet, the nervous energy quelling in your chest was plainly evident on your face. Quite frankly, it was adorable.

When he'd finished his song, he shot you a knowing smirk while the others began chattering amongst themselves. He was pleased to see that the glare you shot him had much less malice behind it than usual, buried beneath the shy smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. He said nothing - merely winked before returning to his own seat.

Clearly he'd taken the lead once again.

It only fueled the fire in your belly to get back at him. Loki was deadly curious to know what lengths you would go to next to up the ante. Of course, he had his doubts that you'd find another way to get under his skin, but it was intriguing to see you try at the very least.

The only problem was, your method of revenge came completely by accident.

He hadn't even known you were still in the room, honestly. He was seated in his usual spot in the common room, reading and tolerating the company of the others just long enough so that Thor would get off his case about his lack of desire to socialize. Loki might not be actively participating in whatever discussion was going on, but he was physically present, and that was his method of compromise with his overzealous brother.

Someone suddenly tugged gently on the hair at the back of Loki's head where it hung close to his shoulders. His gaze whipped up from his novel the moment he felt it, turning in surprise to find you standing behind him with a piece of lint pinched between your thumb and forefinger. A seemingly benign gesture, and yet you had a startled look on your face.

"Loki - holy hell, how is your hair that soft??" you exclaimed, loudly enough to turn heads in your direction. Before he could consider responding, you had begun running your fingers through his hair, your fingers brushing against the back of his neck.

It had been literal centuries since anyone had touched Loki's hair. So long, in fact, that he couldn't remember the last person who had. Likely his mother, he suspected. But the simple, gentle threading of your fingers through his dark locks sent a wave of chills down his spine. He was trapped between the complete shell shock that you would even consider touching his hair and the innate desire to melt back into his chair in contented bliss.

And you - you damned perceptive mortal - you noticed.

"I've gotta say, Loki - I'm actually kind of jealous," you continued, a sudden teasing edge to your tone as you continued to twirl his hair around your fingers. "Maybe one of these days you'll need to share your hair care regimen with me. Or is that a well-kept secret?"

"Hmmph." Gods you had him unfathomably flustered, his silver tongue tied in a knot weighing heavy in his throat while he tried desperately to come up with a coherent thought. The moment he managed to collect a sentence-worth of words in his mind, they were completely scattered as your fingers brushed against the hair just behind his ear, eliciting a visible shiver.

"Wow. She managed to silence him," Barton observed in shock from across the room.

"If I'd known that was all it took, I'd have tried it myself," Stark quipped.

With that, Loki finally snapped out of the hypnotic trance you'd had him under, rising swiftly to his feet and whirling around to look at you. The grin on your face appeared so innocent, and yet your eyes told a different story. They sparkled with the amusement of seeing that dusting of color that was surely adorning his heated cheeks at that moment. Holding up one finger, he opened his mouth to say something, quickly closing it again when he realized he had no words queued up in his throat. Instead, he swiped his book up off the arm of the chair, striding regally out of the room in a failed attempt to try to appear less flustered than he actually was.

Oh... she may have won the battle, but she's yet to win the war, he thought to himself, as he sought refuge in his own room.

* * *

Loki left you alone for days after that incident.

You weren't daft enough to believe he'd given up. If there was one thing you'd learned about your mischievous friend, it was that he refused to lose. It was more likely that he was, yet again, biding his time until he could come up with something that would completely set your face on fire.

Meanwhile, you continued brainstorming, yourself. The only way to beat Loki was going to be to find something that absolutely floored him. It had to be something so overwhelmingly flustering that he wouldn't dare to try to fight back for fear of a repeat incident. You were probably just as stubborn as he was. No way were you losing this little game without a fight.

What happened next made you reconsider your resiliency.

You'd woken up a couple hours earlier than usual that morning. Bucky had been hounding you for weeks about going for an early morning run with him, and you'd finally promised the night before that you'd go the next day, just to get him to stop asking. You knew he meant well - he was just trying to be a good mentor, getting you to step out of your comfort zone and work at things you weren't good at. And running... well, that was definitely not your strong suit. It made sense for you to train with him - you just wished it weren't so damned early in the morning.

Groggily, you threw on a tank top and a set of jogging pants, draping your sweatshirt over your shoulder and lacing up your sneakers. You threw your hair up in a messy pony tail high on your head just to keep it off your neck when you inevitably began to sweat bullets. Slipping in your headphones, you began sleepily scrolling through the music on your phone as you exited your bedroom and shut the door behind you, gazing at the screen as you began to pace down the hallway.

You didn't make it very far.

Barely one step, and you collided with something... someone... very solid. Your eyes flitted up from your phone screen as slurred apologies started to spill from your lips, until you realized who was standing in front of you.

Of course it was Loki. Normally you'd have started making a snide comment about the fact that he should watch where he was going, but your grumblings were cut off by your own flustered squeak of surprise as the sight of Loki wearing nothing but a towel around his hips registered in your sleep-deprived brain.

"Loki!" you squealed, throwing your hands up to cover your eyes.

"Yes?" His tone was even, calm, as though this were a totally normal thing for you to be seeing.

"W-why... what..." You couldn't help but peer at him through your fingers, your curiosity beating out your mortified embarrassment.

Gods, have mercy.

You weren't certain you'd even seen him wearing short sleeves before. It was only natural that the sight of his toned bare chest set alarm bells off in your brain. He wasn't the brawniest of beings, but it suited you just fine - those rippling abdominal muscles were more than enough.

"You're staring."

The teasing tone of his voice brought back your flustered agitation. Your hands dropped from your face, a scowl forming on your features as you took the slightest step backward.

"You... you... ugh. Loki, this is low even for you!" you hissed, glancing around frantically to make sure no one else was wandering about this early in the morning. His eyebrows shot up his forehead.

"You think I ran into you like this on purpose?"

"Oh, don't you try to tell me otherwise, you liar! Gods, Loki..." You slid your fingers over your hair to try to calm yourself, unable to avert your eyes from the scene in front of you. "Don't you think standing outside my door nearly nude is a bit too much?"

"I wasn't trying to get back at you," he insisted. "My shower is broken, Stark told me it would be three days before he could get it fixed, and I decided to use Thor's."

"So you wander around almost naked in the hallway afterward??"

"I wasn't aware anyone else would be up at this hour." A smirk crossed his lips. "And you seem to be quite focused on the amount of clothing I have on."

"Ugh! Loki, you ass!" you hissed, swatting at him and realizing too late that you were striking his bare chest. You pulled your hand back to your body as if you'd burned it, blazing heat rising in your cheeks. This only served to fuel Loki's mischievous mood.

"You appear flustered, princess." He took a step toward you, and you took a matching step backward toward your room. "Why might that be?"

"Loki..."

"Are you simply not accustomed to seeing this much of a god?" he continued, gesturing to his bare torso as he stepped even closer. You'd forgotten you shut your bedroom door until your back met the wood, heart beating rapidly in your chest as Loki trapped you against the door. He placed one palm against the wall beside the doorframe on one side, leaning in closer while his other hand held tight to the towel to keep it from falling from his hips.

"I..."

"I understand, darling. It can be overwhelming."

He stepped back, removing his hand from the wall and shooting you a seductive wink before heading on his way to his room. You stood motionless against the door for a moment, waiting for the buzzing in your ears to vanish.

And you most definitely didn't watch his bare, muscle-clad back as he retreated down the hallway.

“Did you do a warmup workout or something?” Bucky asked as you arrived in the lobby of the tower to meet him ten minutes late. “You look sweaty already.”

“Shut up and let’s go,” you mumbled, striding past him to walk out the door. You were not about to explain to him what just happened.

The image of Loki half-nude was hot-ironed in your brain for the entire run. Luckily, Bucky wasn’t much of a talker while he exercised, so you didn’t have to fumble through idle small talk while trying to rid yourself of the image. The one benefit, you supposed, was that you weren’t focused on the burning in your lungs as you ran through the city.

When you returned home, you had finally managed to quell the intense embarrassment in your mind. You headed to the kitchen with Bucky to grab a bite of breakfast, stopping short in the doorway when your gaze met Loki’s where he sat at the table drinking tea. Fully clothed, at least.

“Good morning,” he hummed, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as the internal turmoil in your brain began to manifest on your face. That image that you’d worked so hard to file away in the back of your mind (because lord knew you weren’t going to forget it completely anytime soon) popped right back up in your head as Loki shot you a wink across the room.

Without thinking much about what Bucky might think, you spun on your heel and walked right back out without a word. You needed a cold shower more than you needed breakfast right now.

It was a solid week before you could be in the same room as the trickster god without completely losing your cool. He reveled in the fact that he could make your face burn and your heart race with just a look from across the room. There was no need to say anything - he knew you were thinking about exactly what he wanted you to think.

This whole back-and-forth between you and the God of Mischief was starting to become rather heated. Granted, a part of you deep down felt privileged to have seen his impressive physique that he normally kept hidden under layers of leather armor. But damn him for making a scene out of teasing you for your obvious appreciation for the view.

No question about it - you simply had to step up your game.

Which is how you found yourself willingly watching that cursed show Wanda loved so much, pretending to be giving it a shot but in reality simply seeking pointers for how you might be able to fluster your impish opponent into oblivion.

As much as you hated this show, you had to admit it was giving you an excuse to ask Wanda for advice without actually asking her. You just had to complain about the show enough to argue her points with you. For example, in this particular episode, Maria, the lead female character, was flirting shamelessly with Daniel ("hot guy," as Wanda referred to him) in the break room of the office they worked in together. It was no secret they had a thing for each other, but Daniel was unwilling to admit it and Maria was sick of waiting. So, she took it upon herself to try to force his hand.

"Honestly, Wanda - do you think someone could get a guy that nervous just by touching the side of their head?" you groaned.

"You say it like she's just patting his head like a dog," she retorted. "In my experience, the placement is key. Vis is a sucker for when I brush my fingers along the skin behind his ear."

You glanced at her in surprise. "Really? I didn't realize he could even feel it."

"He's a very sophisticated android," she boasted with a grin. "Anyway, if you're trying to prove your theory that this show is overdramatic, you're going to have to keep trying. I could easily drag Vision in here and prove it to you."

"No way! He'll do whatever you tell him to do. That's basically cheating."

As if on cue, Loki suddenly appeared in the common room, seemingly planning to cut through to the opposite hallway. You made a split second decision and leapt to your feet.

"Loki! Come here for a second." Your fingers closed around his forearm as he walked past, startling him.

"What-"

"Wanda and I need to settle something, and we need your help."

Loki's head tilted in bewildered confusion at your sudden willingness - and not only that, but your sudden desire - to get his attention. You'd spent the last week and a half avoiding him almost entirely, waiting for him to become bored with shooting you subtle winks across the room in an effort to remind you of the hallway incident. Surely he would deduce quickly that you had a trick planned for him. You had to act fast.

You reached out and grasped his other forearm, positioning him directly in front of you with a gentle twisting motion.

“Wanda thinks guys get worked up about this, but I disagree.”

His brows lifted from his eyes. “About what, exactly?”

“This.” You lifted your hand and slid it up along the side of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, thumb resting just along the tip of his ear. For good measure, you stepped closer so your body was only inches from his, tilting your chin upward to gaze into his eyes.

Oh, it worked like a charm.

You heard Loki’s breath hitch in his chest, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly. For a moment, his gaze flitted down to your lips. That lovely rosy shade graced his pale cheekbones as his own lips parted slightly. Possibly trying to come up with something to say. Or, perhaps he was considering the real possibility of actually kissing you.

In any case, you smirked up at him and pulled away, your eyes still locked on his as you took a step back.

"Alright, I'll give you that one, Wanda. It works."

The range of emotions that passed over Loki's face in a matter of seconds was astounding. His mouth curled into a somewhat disappointed-looking frown, his brow furrowed. Quickly, that dark brow of his became heavier as a scowl clouded his features. Almost as swiftly as it had appeared, it was replaced once again by a sly, cunning smirk that made your stomach flip.

"Perhaps," he hummed. "But, I would argue there are better ways to drive someone mad with desire."

"I-"

"Quite simple, really." He stepped closer, closing the distance you'd put between the pair of you, as his hand raised to brush along the skin under your jaw, coming to rest just below your ear. "To touch a lover with one hand along the jaw, around the ear, behind the neck, is innocent. But, add a second point of control..." His free hand suddenly gripped your waist, fingers wrapping around to the small of your back to tug your hips closer to himself, nearly making you squeak in surprise. "... and you'll find that you can assert a sense of power over them."

You could slice the tension between you with a knife as he leaned his head down closer, pausing just inches away from your own face. Your tongue slid out subconsciously to wet your lips, and you found yourself transfixed on the kaleidoscopic blue-green eyes in front of you. Those soft-looking lips of his curled up into a self-assured smirk, and he suddenly ducked down so his mouth was directly beside your ear.

"Two can play at this game, princess."

Leaning back, his hands fell from your waist and your jaw to his sides before backing away from you. The sense of loss you felt without his touch was both startling and devastating. And, worst of all, you knew he knew what he'd done to you. Not just because you could light a match right now if you touched it to your cheek, but because his eyes danced with mischievous pride.

"What are your thoughts, Maximoff?" he asked, adding insult to injury by engaging your friend in this tête-à-tête.

"I mean, both seemed pretty effective... either way, I feel like I win," she responded with a grin. Loki rolled his eyes.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I was in the middle of something before you so rudely interrupted." He turned and continued on his way, leaving you standing there like a statue etched in marble, unmoving.

"I still think it's you that believes he's a gift from the gods," she teased, nudging you with her elbow as she returned to her seat on the sofa. "You still gonna watch the show with me?"

Grunting in frustration, you plunked yourself down on the sofa beside Wanda. There was no trying to pay attention to the terrible show now that your mind had wandered elsewhere.

* * *

Despite the fact that Loki had gotten the last laugh, he was still irked by your most recent ploy to get under his skin.

No mortal had succeeded in making him feel the way you did. Making him freeze up like that, and in front of another mortal, no less. You were getting dangerously close to realizing the degree of power you held over him, and he couldn’t allow it.

He had to find a way to claim victory in this little blushing war once and for all.

Loki observed you closely over the following days, seeking out any sort of behavior that might lead him to discover your weakness. Surely there was something that he could tease out about you that would suffice as leverage to end this little charade. He just had to determine what it was.

It was a few nights later that he learned of your ultimate weakness.

That evening, there were no specific plans to gather together as a team, but many of the tower inhabitants were lazing in the common room involved in various conversations or activities. Loki, as usual, kept to himself with a novel spread open in his hands, although he wasn’t really paying much attention to it. It was merely a ruse, a decoy to make himself look busy while he observed you making casual conversation with Clint and Vision.

A heavy sigh drew the attention of the room as Wanda entered. The witch looked exhausted as she shuffled in and sat down on the sofa next to Vision, leaning on his shoulder. He slid his arm around her, pulling her gently into his side.

"What's the matter, dear?" he asked gently.

"I made the mistake of asking Nat to train with me today," she groaned. A chorus of 'ah' and 'ouch' filled the room after that. The team was well acquainted with Nat's training style. Lacking superhuman powers, she more than made up for it with her dedication and hard work. Even some of the guys on the team had trouble keeping up with her during her workouts.

"See, now, I stopped making that mistake years ago," Clint noted, grimacing at the memory. "It was well worth the months of teasing after I told her no more workouts together."

"Might be a little more spry if you stuck with it though, Legolas," Tony quipped, earning a glare from the archer.

"No, I can see where he's coming from after today... My back is already aching, and it's only been an hour since we finished." Wanda reached behind her and grasped what must have been a sore spot on her back.

"Would it help if I gave you a massage, darling?" Vision asked. Her eyes lit up.

"Would you? That would be amazing."

Most of the others in the room had gone back to their own conversations by this point. Loki had ultimately returned to reading when he realized he wasn’t getting anything of use from your interactions, though he had the ability to observe and listen while he simultaneously skimmed the pages of his book. He noted that your attention was divided between watching Thor, Peter, Tony, and Bruce playing some video game on the television (rather rambunctiously, of course) and glancing at Wanda and Vision as he kneaded the tension from her shoulders. He couldn't be certain, but he thought maybe he detected a hint of jealousy in your expression. It had been quite some time since he'd seen you interact with anyone physically in such a manner... come to think of it, he'd never actually seen you allowing someone to rub your back like Vision was doing for Wanda at this moment. Perhaps that would be the key to getting you back, but he would need to observe a bit longer first.

Vision's hands slid lower down to massage the muscles in Wanda's lower back. She suddenly made an odd squeaking sound, arching forward away from his touch.

"Did I hurt you, darling?"

"No..." Wanda suddenly appeared sheepish. "You just tickled me, is all."

"I see. Are you feeling better?" Vision asked.

"Much better, thank you."

"I'm glad to hear it." A small smirk formed on Vision's face, just before he started kneading his fingers into Wanda's sides where his hands rested. Wanda burst into giggles, squirming as he tickled her more intentionally.

"Vis! Wh-whahat are you dohoing?"

"As I understand it, the appropriate response when someone tells you they are ticklish is to try to tickle them," he explained casually.

"Who-haha-whoho told you thahat??"

"Mr. Stark, of course."

Wanda shot Tony a look, which he only barely acknowledged as he briefly glanced up from his game and shrugged.

"You can't tell me I'm wrong," Tony called from his seat across the room. Wanda groaned.

"I quite enjoy listening to you laugh," Vision stated, his hands crawling up her ribs as her giggles increased in volume. "I suppose I should have tried this sooner."

"Noho, I don't thihink so - VIS dohon't you dahare!!" Wanda moved to stand as Vision attempted to slip his fingers under her arms, but he caught her around the waist and pulled her back down onto the sofa beside him, trapping her against his chest.

"Now I have to, Wanda dear - I'm far too curious." There was a teasing air to his tone, which was quite unusual coming from the usually serious android. Holding her close, he slotted his hands up under her arms quite easily and wriggled his fingers into the spaces, throwing her into hysterics.

At this point, Loki finally glanced up from the pages of his book, hearing the sudden loud burst of laughter from across the room. His eyes strayed from Vision and Wanda over to where you sat in a nearby armchair. He was more than a bit surprised to see that your face had changed color completely, and you appeared to be fidgeting in your seat as you stared at the scene unfolding in front of you. Notably, your arms were stiff and pressed tightly to your sides, and you were somewhat curled into yourself as though trying to protect your own vulnerable areas.

What an interesting observation this was.

Wanda had stopped protesting, having succumbed to her own laughter. Vision must have recognized she was tiring, as he eased up and eventually stopped tickling her in favor of holding her close while she caught her breath.

"You... I... ugh. Damn you for being so innocent," she groaned, leaning her head back against Vision's shoulder. He leaned forward so he could catch her attention, pressing his lips to hers when she turned to look at him.

"Now, it's not really fair that you're an android and she's a human - clearly she's never going to be able to get you back," Clint griped in Wanda's defense. "Last I checked, robots aren't ticklish."

"Yes, this is true. However, Wanda does tease me quite often about other things. I am still learning quite a bit about everyday human life," he countered logically.

"Yeah, it doesn't have to go both ways, Katniss Everdeen," Tony called, having finished the current round of their game. "Just because she can't tickle him doesn't mean he can't tickle her."

"How is that fair??" Peter demanded.

"Oh, you're only on her side because you're ticklish too, kid," Tony argued, poking Peter's side.

"Hehey! Mr. Stark!"

As the team continued to banter about the subject, Loki kept subtly glancing at you to assess your reaction. It seemed that even conversing about tickling was making you squirm in your seat, the corner of your mouth twitching upward every so often as you obviously fought back a grin. Notably, you were silent throughout the entirety of the conversation. Normally, you would interject frequently in these team arguments, but it seemed you were biting your tongue in this case.

Oh, this was absolute gold.

Eventually, the conversation progressed to another topic, and you visibly relaxed in your seat. Suddenly, Loki noted you were much more willing to participate in the discussion. That confirmed his suspicions: you were exceedingly flustered by even the mention of tickling. He could only imagine how flustered you'd be if he threatened to tickle you in front of the others.

He left you alone that evening, mulling over the best method of approach. It would be best if he caught you unawares - you didn’t seem to have noticed his watching you, and so you likely had no idea that he had come to this conclusion. Perhaps he would file this fantastic little piece of information about you into the back of his mind, ready to pull it out the next time you attempted to fluster him. It was only a matter of time, after all.

The opportunity fell into his lap - quite literally - a few days later.

Stark had just recently renovated the recreation room to add a fancy table and plush chairs for board games or card games. He was hoping to play a game of poker, but Peter asked to join and Stark insisted the kid was too young to be gambling despite his protests. So instead, he allowed Peter to choose a game. By this point, Thor had already roped Loki into playing, and so he had no opportunity to back out when Peter decided to play Monopoly, of all things.

This was going to be a long evening.

Seven people joined in, but only six chairs were present. Wanda simply took a seat in Vision’s lap, offering to play as a team. Peter began laying out the board and passing out the money to get ready to start the game.

“Room for one more?”

Loki turned to find you standing in the doorway. Stark responded to you before anyone else could.

“Good luck finding a seat.”

“Tony! Why would you only get six chairs? There’s more than double that many people living in the tower.”

“Hey! It’s a work in progress, alright? Besides, I didn’t anticipate playing team Monopoly in here with more than six players,” he retorted, rolling his eyes.

Your eyes fell on Wanda, seated comfortably in Vision’s lap, then skimmed along the table until your gaze rested on Loki. A flash of mischief sparked in your eyes, which normally would make him proud to see he was succeeding in corrupting you with his ways, but he was well aware that mischievous smirk was directed at him.

Sure enough, you strode into the room, heading directly to where Loki sat and parking yourself unceremoniously in his lap.

“It’s alright. I’ll just play on Loki’s team.”

Eyebrows raised around the table, but no one said a word. Despite that Loki had anticipated this the moment you walked in, he couldn’t help but feel a bit sheepish with you seated on top of him. You damned, cunning mortal, knowing exactly how to get to him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he muttered in your ear. You turned your head to look at him, your face unnervingly close to his.

“I needed a seat. This was the best I could do.”

He didn’t bother with a retort, as Thor started the game with a roll of the dice. Participants chattered animatedly between their turns as they sipped their adult beverages (except Peter, of course, who was perfectly content with his soda). Even you participated casually in conversation with the others, as if it was having absolutely no effect on you whatsoever that you were seated on the God of Mischief's thighs. He had no idea what to do with his hands, so they rested beside his legs against the seat of the chair in the narrow space available on each side. Each time he thought he was getting past the flustering feeling of having you seated in his lap, you shifted your weight a bit, or turned and shot him a sly look out of the corner of your eye, and a fresh wave of heat rose in his face.

"Vis!"

Suddenly, across the table, Wanda had begun giggling and squirming in Vision's arms as he skittered his fingers along her sides. It was unclear what provoked the android - perhaps he simply wanted to hear her laugh - but in any case there she was, half-heartedly shoving at his hands as they crawled up her ribs.

And you immediately stiffened.

What wonderful timing this is, Loki thought to himself. He had you trapped, and it was all your own doing. You had nowhere else to sit unless you wanted to perch yourself on someone else's lap, and you had declared that you were on Loki's 'team' from the start of the game anyhow. If you got up now, you'd cause a scene.

He was definitely going to have his fun with this.

Leaning forward slightly, he began to whisper in a low voice in your ear, quietly enough that no one else could hear him speak.

"What's the matter, darling?"

You said nothing, simply turning your head to glance at him with what you probably hoped was a casually curious look on your face, but instead appeared more like a grimace. He tilted his head, urging you silently to provide an explanation without context for his question.

"Yo - mischief and mayhem - you're up," Tony urged, prompting you to whip your head back around to look at him. Loki was silent as you took the dice and made your roll, landing on a property that Clint already owned and handing over your fee without saying much of anything. In the meantime, Vision had stopped tickling Wanda, but she continued to squeak at random intervals when he'd poke or pinch her side teasingly. One particular poke to her lower ribs made you actually squirm a bit, which you tried unsuccessfully to disguise as shifting yourself to become more comfortable as you passed off the dice to Thor on your left.

"Something seems to be bothering you," Loki continued in your ear, making you stiffen the moment you heard his voice. "I might even go as far as to say... flustering you."

You turned enough to look at him, your own voice in a low whisper. "I don't know what you're talking about."

At that same moment, Wanda began giggling once again for a brief moment, and you swiftly rotated your head back to witness Vision scribbling at her belly. Loki took advantage of your renewed flustered state to lean a bit closer to your ear.

"I'm not a fool, darling. I know exactly what's got you blushing."

Again, your head swiveled to look at the god you'd chosen as your seat, but this time your eyes were ever so slightly wider than they normally appeared. He allowed a devilish smirk to spread across his face, knowing it would only serve to unnerve you.

"You do not."

Loki shrugged. "Believe what you want, princess."

Slowly, your head turned back to face the rest of the table. The tension you were feeling was plainly obvious - you were sitting as though a metal rod had been threaded through your spine, and your shoulders were pinned back and squared stiffly below your ears. Chuckling to himself, he decided to drop the bomb on you at last.

"You're ticklish, aren't you?"

If it were even possible, your muscles became more rigid at his confirmation that he knew exactly what was getting to you. Subtly, your arms moved to rest closer to your sides protectively. Notably, you didn't turn around to look at him this time.

"It's obvious, really," he continued, undeterred by the fact that you were no longer responding to him. "I suspected it the other day, when Vision learned of Wanda's ticklishness and decided to exploit it." He wasn't even touching you, and yet each time he said the word, you shifted a bit in your seat atop his lap. "You were acting exactly like this. Stiff as a board, arms lowered to cover your vulnerable spots, unwilling smile tugging at your lips." Loki let out a low, ominous laugh from deep in his throat. "Based on all of this, I've deduced you must be devastatingly ticklish. And the thought of someone exploiting it is making you incredibly flustered, isn't it?"

You were pointedly ignoring him now, taking a long sip of your wine and refusing not to respond to his teasing. It only egged him on further, knowing he was getting to you. If he'd provoked you into giving him the silent treatment already, he'd have you a blushing mess by the end of the evening.

By this point, the dice had been passed back around, and you silently took your turn. A quick purchase of a railroad, and the dice were passed on to Thor. Still, you remained facing forward, carefully avoiding leaning back against his chest with your arms pinned at your sides.

"You can't ignore me forever, darling," he hummed, slipping his hand up underneath the loose hooded sweatshirt you had chosen to wear this evening and resting his hand against your side just above your hip. The moment his hand made contact with the thin T-shirt you wore beneath your sweatshirt, your own hand shot down and grabbed hold of his through the heavier fabric of your outerwear. "Now, now, darling. You wouldn't want to cause a scene, would you?"

"You're the one causing a scene," you hissed, your head pivoting to give him the side-eye.

"Might I remind you that you selected your own seat. Regretting it now, I'm certain."

Huffing through your nose, you turned to look at the others. He could sense what was going through your mind at this moment. You were weighing your options - trying to decide if creating a scene now about finding another chair to sit in (likely from another room in the tower at this point) was worth the avoidance of the inevitable torment Loki was about to inflict upon you. You were stuck between a rock and a hard place. No matter what choice you made, there would be a scene. Unless, of course, you managed to contain your reactions.

With a nearly inaudible sigh, you adjusted yourself to sit more comfortably, leaning back a bit against Loki's chest and resigning yourself to your fate. Chuckling, he lifted some of the weight from his hand at your waist, still hidden from view of the others under your sweatshirt.

"Let's test my theory then, shall we?"

The gasp that came from your chest when he pinched at your side ever so gently was, fortunately for you, buried by the annoyed groaning of Peter as he landed on Thor's property.

"It seems I was correct. Devastatingly ticklish."

The dice were passed on to Wanda, who rolled for her turn as Loki began gently kneading into the pliant skin of your side where his hand rested. It amused him, the way your muscles tensed under his ticklish touch almost immediately, and yet you refused to turn around and scold him for fear of the others figuring out what was going on. You couldn't squirm, you couldn't laugh... you couldn't even allow the sensation to affect your facial expression if you truly wanted to keep this a secret.

Loki gave you a reprieve when the dice were passed over to you for your turn. You nearly missed the fact that Tony was holding them out for you to take, despite the fact that you were staring straight at his hand. Loki laughed under his breath, and you reached down with your free hand and pinched a small spot on his knee to let him know you didn't appreciate his laughing at you. In retaliation, he slid his hand down just a bit to scratch at your hip as you shook the dice in your hand. You threw them down against the board with more force than necessary, arching the slightest bit sideways away from his tickling fingers.

"Wow. Not even losing and you're being a sore loser already?" Tony quipped.

"N-no, it's not th- ahem - it's not that." It was clearly straining you to withhold your laughter, one of your hands dropping down to squeeze his hand through your sweatshirt in a feeble attempt to make him stop while you quickly moved your piece the allotted number of spaces on the dice. Your sigh of relief was audible this time when you landed on your own property, handing the dice off to Thor.

"You seem twitchy, there, mayhem. You alright?"

"Yep! Just- er, trying to d-decide if I want to get up and get another drink."

Loki was finding this quite entertaining, keeping you guessing by allowing his fingers to still against your T-shirt before suddenly starting up again, squeezing his way agonizingly slowly up your side toward your lower ribs. The moment his fingers reached the solid bone at the bottom of your ribcage, you suddenly slid off his lap and announced that you were going to refill your wine glass, scurrying out of the room.

"Er... she forgot her glass," Peter observed with a puzzled look. Grinning, Loki picked it up off the table and rose to his feet.

"She's rather frazzled tonight, I'm afraid. I'll bring it to her." With that, he stepped out of the room and followed the path you'd taken down the hall to the lounge.

He found you standing there alone, your fingers laced through your hair atop your head as you released a slow breath, your brightly colored cheeks puffed out. The moment you became aware of his presence, you shot him a frantic, wide-eyed glare.

"Loki!" you hissed, slamming your hands down onto your hips in an attempt to look condescending. "You absolute scoundrel!! What the hell?!"

"What's the matter, princess? Can't handle being flustered like this?" With a smirk, he added, "By the way - you forgot this."

You scowled, stepping forward to swipe the wine glass from his hand. "I'm finding another place to sit when we go back in there."

"Oh, but that would be a poor decision. The others would wonder why you suddenly want your own seat. After all, you were quite content with stealing my lap without asking."

With a groan, you stepped over to the bar, ripping the cork out of the half-emptied wine bottle sitting on the countertop. "What is it going to take for me to get you to stop?"

"Admit to me that I've won this little game. That I've succeeded in flustering you more than you ever could dream of flustering me in return. And then cease your attempts."

"No way!" you exclaimed, tilting the wine bottle over your glass to fill it with the burgundy-colored liquid. "You haven't won this yet!"

"Then I'm afraid I can't promise you anything." His smirk broadened as he observed your face cloud over with frustration. "It would be simple to just admit defeat. Though, perhaps you're enjoying this more than you're letting on."

"Wh- what?? I- I don't-"

"Save it, darling. I won't believe a word anyway." With that, he turned and began walking back to the recreation room. Once he reached the doorway, he called over his shoulder to you, "Don't take too much longer. The others are already wondering what's gotten into you this evening."

He could feel the stinging burn of your glare as he left the room.

When you'd returned with your full glass a few moments later, you hesitantly stepped over to stand beside the table, placing your glass on the surface. You made no move to sit down in Loki's lap again. He looked up at you with a sickly sweet smile, holding out an arm to offer you space to sit down.

"I'm going to stand for a bit," you mumbled.

"No need to be shy, darling - you've been sitting on me this entire evening." Without waiting for you to move, he reached up and grasped your hips, tugging to bring you crashing down into his lap once again with a squeak.

"You ass," you whispered, reluctantly shifting to face forward as you had been before.

"I offered you an out. You chose not to take it." He grinned. "You must know there are consequences. Or, perhaps you were hoping there would be?”

You couldn’t respond without drawing the other’s attention, as it was your turn once again. As quickly as possible, you rolled and moved your piece before sliding the dice over to Thor, folding your arms across your belly and trying to appear nonchalant despite your obvious frantic desire to be done with your turn. With a snicker, Loki slipped his hand up beneath your sweatshirt once again, the contact making you flinch and then relax a bit when you realized he wasn't tickling you yet. He allowed his hand to slide slowly up toward your ribs, reveling in the obvious nervous energy radiating off of you as his palm glided up your side.

"Suppose I seek out your weakest spot and exploit it... right... here," he breathed in your ear, scratching lightly along your lowest rib with just two fingers. You folded sideways the slightest bit in reaction to his touch, stopping yourself with obvious difficulty and straightening your back. While Loki couldn't see your face, he could see the subtle twitch of your jaw as you grappled with your internal instinct to react. "I wonder how long it would take to break your resolve once I find it. I'm sure the others would find it quite entertaining, watching me tickle you senseless."

"You're up again, mayhem," Stark sang, passing you the dice. The startled jerk of your head told Loki you again weren't paying any attention to the game, taking the dice and rolling for your turn. Cautious not to lift your arm too far from your side, you picked up your piece to move around the board. Still, Loki took advantage of the sudden reduction in protection of your ribs, spidering his fingers up to the middle of your ribcage beneath your sweatshirt. He felt your ribs expand outward as you sucked in a sharp breath, quickly moving your piece to the designated space and lowering your arm to your side as casually as you could muster.

"You passed go! Aren't you going to grab your two hundred dollars?" Peter asked excitedly.

"Yes, darling - don't leave money on the table, now. Go on and take the two hundred dollars," Loki concurred, eyeing the bank money sitting across the table. Your hand wrapped around his knee and squeezed harshly, acutely aware of what he was plotting. A few rapid squeezes to your ribcage were enough to let you know he wasn't backing down on this.

And you, you clever little minx, you reached out with your other hand to grab the money, keeping the arm that was blocking his access to your upper ribs firmly pressed to your side.

Oh, he wasn't having that.

While the others were distracted with their own conversations and with watching Thor take his turn, Loki swiftly slid his other hand up beneath your sweatshirt on the other side, bracing his thumb against your shoulder blade while his four fingers tickled the soft skin beneath your arm just below the hem of your short sleeve. There was a clearly audible squeak this time as your arm clamped down to your side, your Monopoly money crumpled in your fist. The squirming you'd done so well to hide was beginning to overcome you as you reacted to his fingers still wriggling into your underarm.

"Ah... might I have found it?" Loki whispered teasingly. You were starting to actually tremble with the effort of withholding your laughter. The small part of your face that Loki could see was vivid, the corner of your mouth twitching upward of its own accord. "This must be unbearable, darling. I have you completely at my mercy, and there's nothing you can do but submit to it." He punctuated his taunt by sliding his other hand around to your belly, scratching firmly with all five fingers just above your waistline. Whether it was this spot or the combination of the two that broke you, he wasn't certain, but you suddenly broke out in a desperate stream of giggles.

"What's so funny?" Thor asked quizzically.

"H-he... ahah... he tohold me a johoke!" you fibbed, doubling over as he increased the pressure of his scratching at your belly.

"Mm, yes, it was hilarious," Loki stated sarcastically, pausing his tickling fingers under your arm in an attempt to determine whether he'd discovered a weaker spot on your belly.

"Really? What was it?" Thor asked enthusiastically, gazing expectantly at you. Loki allowed his fingers to rest, unmoving, against your belly, endlessly entertained by the fact that you now had to come up with a joke to maintain your lie.

"It... it was..."

"Go on, darling, tell them the joke," Loki urged, prodding his fingers into the soft spot below your navel.

"HA! I... Sorry, it's just... it's fuhuhunny!!" You burst into giggles once again as he clawed at the center of your belly for just a moment.

"Are you sure you're ok? You're acting really weird," Clint observed, frowning with his brow furrowed in confusion. You nodded rapidly, your hands shifting to grasp what would look like your belly to the others, but really was Loki's hand in an attempt to keep it still for just a minute so you could think straight.

"Too much wine, I suspect," Loki tutted, shifting a bit so he could sneak his other hand down from under your arm to tickle the taut skin directly below your ribcage.

"I-hi dihid NOHOT have too muhuch wine!!" you scolded through louder laughter. Smirking, he started up again with his other hand. And finally, he broke you. "PSHH-AH-HA-HE'S TICKLING MEHEHE!!"

"I knew it!!" Wanda exclaimed triumphantly.

Now that you weren't attempting to hide it anymore, you were suddenly writhing in Loki's arms to try to evade his fingers. The abrupt change in your effort to fight for freedom allowed you to slip out of his grasp, sliding off his lap and stumbling to put distance between the pair of you. There was a bright, ticklish grin spread wide across your face that made his heart skip unexpectedly.

"You think I'm finished with you just because you've told them the truth?" he asked ominously, rising to his feet. With a squeak, you held your hands out in front of you protectively, taking a step backward.

"Loki - that's not... how is this fahair??"

"Darling, you can drop the act. You and I both know you don't mind this as much as you pretend you do."

"Shut up," you grumbled.

"That's cute," Tony teased, earning a sharp glare. Your attention quickly snapped back to Loki as he took a powerful stride toward you.

"Are you going to run? Or shall we do this here?" he queried. With a whine, you pivoted on your heel and sprinted out of the room. Sighing, Loki began pacing after you at a non-urgent speed.

"Brother! Don't kill the poor mortal," Thor called after him.

It didn't take Loki very much time to catch up to you. Predictably, you'd sprinted back to the lounge, glancing around wildly for a place to hide. Without a word, Loki wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, eliciting a startled squeak that was rapidly replaced by hysterical laughter when his fingers dug into your ribs.

"LOHOKI I SWEHEAR TO ALL YOHOUR GOHODS..."

"Preparing to threaten me, now? That would be unwise," he warned, his fingers working their way up toward your underarms. You clamped your arms down hard to your sides, stumbling forward as your struggle for freedom tipped you off-balance. Loki followed along with you, gradually marching you toward the wall on one side of the room. When he'd walked you close enough, he relented in his attack on your ribs in favor of grappling for your wrists, managing to catch hold of one of them and roughly spinning you around with a hand on your opposite shoulder. His other hand closed on your free wrist, jerking your arms above your head and slamming your wrists against the wall, one overlapping the other.

"L-Loki..." Your eyes were wide as saucers as you met his gaze, his face only inches from yours as he pinned your arms over your head.

"Tell me, darling - do I make you nervous?" he asked, passing one wrist to his other hand to pin them both in one of his larger hands, freeing the other to wriggle his fingers in your field of vision. You giggled anxiously, shutting your eyes tight.

"I-hi hate yohou, you know thahat?" you groaned, the color in your cheeks intensifying.

"Mm, but you don't mean it."

As your mouth flew open to retort, his free hand slipped up beneath your sweatshirt and shot up to the now taut skin under your arms. A shrill shriek escaped your lips before you began to let out desperate laughter, twisting and thrashing to try to free your wrists from the wall, from his grasp. Loki was far stronger than you, and so it was simple for him to maintain his grip, even as his tickling fingers lightened to a barely-there touch against the bare skin just above the hem of your t-shirt sleeve that drove you into silent laughter. Only then did he let his fingers still against your skin, pausing a moment to simply gaze at you as you came down from your state of ticklish euphoria.

"You're quite ticklish, even for a mortal," Loki teased, feeling a sense of endearment as your giggles gradually faded.

"Y-you can let go now," you breathed, glaring through your impossibly wide smile.

"Suppose I don't want to?" he asked, leaning into his hold on your wrists. "Suppose I like you this way?"

"Oh-ho-ho is that right?" you giggled. His free hand slid firmly down your side, enough weight to avoid tickling you, before landing on your waist just above your hip. His grip on your wrists finally loosened in favor of sliding his hand around the back of your neck, tugging you away from the wall. "L-eheh-Loki, there's no one around for you to be trying to fluster me in front of," you observed, your voice suddenly quieter, as though becoming uncertain of yourself. That beautiful smile still hadn't left your lips.

"I think..." he breathed, leaning his head down to close the distance between your faces. "... I think it's time we end this little charade, once and for all, hmm?"

"What are you-"

"I'm tired of the games, darling." He was so close now that he could feel your soft breath on his lips. "We both know there's something more to us than just this little game of ours."

You remained silent for a moment, your lips slightly parted as your tongue slipped out to wet them, your eyes glazed. Then, you surged forward, capturing Loki's lips with yours.

Your lips were soft, a hint of wine on your tongue as you kissed him hungrily. Loki growled low in his throat when your fingers slid up into his hair, tugging gently at the nape of his neck. Your other arm wrapped tight around his waist, and he pulled you closer with a powerful tug at your hip to feel your body against his. It was frantic and passionate, and it was everything he hadn't realized he wanted so badly these past few months.

As he pulled away, he drew your bottom lip between his teeth gently before separating his mouth from yours. There was a hazy look in your eyes that made his heart swell, knowing he was the cause. They flitted down to gaze at the floor for a moment, an almost shy expression on your face.

"That... that thing you do? The, the... 'two points of control?' Yeah, that's pretty damn effective," you breathed, drawing a laugh from Loki's chest.

"I'm certain I can come up with a number of ways to fluster you, if you'll allow it," he growled, pressing his lips to yours once again for just a moment. You grinned at him, a sly look in your eyes.

"Do your worst, my prince."

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lizslibrary · 1 year

Text

I’ve literally been dreaming of an MCU beach fic and this DELIVERED. 🏝️💚🔥

Salty and Sweet

Word count: 7900

Warnings: sticky sweet cotton candy fluff right here... tickles, cliché beach activities, the whole works.

I went to the beach the other day and it got me thinking about what it would be like for reader to take a beach vacation with the Avengers. Probably one of the fluffiest fics I've written. Also the longest I've written (I maybe got a little carried away 😅) Enjoy!

(Title is a play on the salt water and the sweet fluffiness... or, you could also think of it as referring to Loki, he's a little salty in the beginning 😂)

Past, younger versions of you would never have predicted where you’d be at this very moment. Sitting on a private jet owned by a billionaire (who was also kind of your boss); surrounded by enhanced super soldiers, genetically altered beings, and literal demigods; on route to what you could only assume would be an extravagant, lavish beachside house.

I mean, was this real life?

Then again, it isn’t like you didn’t work your ass off to get to this point. You had started out as a SHIELD agent, mostly doing behind-the-scenes tech hacking while the stronger agents manned the field. You were a wizard when it came to computers (ok, maybe ‘wizard’ wasn’t the right term since you worked with an actual wizard now) but your fighting skills left something to be desired. Not to be deterred, you spent long hours on your days off training in hand-to-hand combat. At night, you’d arrive home late and collapse from exhaustion into your bed, only to wake up in the young hours of the morning to return to work.

Your efforts had not gone unnoticed. Quickly, you rose through the ranks, soon becoming the highest-ranking agent of your age. After some time, Nick Fury noticed as well. He approached you about a year ago, recommending that you join the elite team of protectors of the Earth he called the Avengers. How could you say no?

The last year had been a challenging one. Though you’d refined your combat skills, being a part of the Avengers meant you had to be prepared to fight supernatural and otherworldly beings. As a human, a mortal without super serum running through your veins or an alter ego that made you grow three times your size and strength, you had a skill gap that needed to be filled. Natasha had taken you under her wing, being one of the few non-superhuman members of the team and taught you how to move swiftly and sharply to run circles around even the strongest of beings.

Now, one year later, you almost felt like an integrated part of the team. You’d started going on missions about six months ago, proving your worth over and over both in the field and on the sidelines. Fierce and agile, you possessed the skills to be a well-rounded and formidable spy. The others had finally stopped treating you as a fragile child, recognizing your ability to hold your own.

Off the field, when you were ‘off duty’ so to speak, your persona was a stark contrast to your behavior in the field. Placed in normal, social situations, you shied away into yourself and didn’t contribute much to the conversation. These guys had years to get to know each other, and even though they were trying to include you in most things, you still felt a little bit like an outsider.

Nat knew you best, and she could sense that you felt out of place. So, one night, when the team had sat down together for dinner for the first time after an excruciatingly long and challenging mission, she suggested that you all might need a bit of a vacation. Tony had stood excitedly from the table at the idea, clapping his hands together eagerly and declared it was time for a team-building trip. It wasn’t difficult to convince the others, especially when Tony offered to finance the whole thing.

Well, almost all the others.

One particular team member had taken some convincing. Loki, dark and brooding as he was, typically spent his time alone, even when he was staying in the tower. When Tony had decided to plan this trip, Loki had rolled his eyes and made some snarky comment under his breath about how much someone would need to pay him to spend that much time with all of you.

Your heart had sunk at his lack of enthusiasm. You were intrigued by him, to say the least. He wasn’t large and muscular like Thor or Steve or Bucky, that was true. But gods, he was witty, and intelligent, and his fighting style was slick and skillful. Being shy as you were, you didn’t find many opportunities to make conversation with him, but you often found yourself gazing at him from across the room. You marveled at his bright eyes, his sharp jawline, the way his dark wavy locks shrouded his face as his head tilted down to read his book. Recently, it seemed he’d begun to notice the staring. On a few occasions, he’d glanced up from his book or whatever else he was doing and caught you watching him. The corner of his mouth would turn up in a small smirk, and he’d wink at you before going back to his reading.

You’d had to go hide in the bathroom after those moments, waiting for the color in your cheeks to fade before someone noticed.

It was Thor who had finally convinced him to tag along. You weren’t sure exactly what it was Thor said to him to make him change his mind. Presumably, it had been some sort of a threat as to what would happen if he didn’t come. In any case, Loki had boarded the jet with the rest of you. He was sitting beside his brother one row diagonally in front of yours, unsurprisingly reading a book in his lap.

“You’re doing it again,” Nat mumbled, nudging you with her elbow from the seat beside you. Whipping your head around to look at her, you blushed at the sly grin on her face.

“Shh! No, I wasn’t!” you snapped. “I just zoned out, is all.”

“Mmhmm. Zoned out.” You knew Nat didn’t believe you even for a second. “I’ll never understand what you see in him. He murdered nearly a hundred people in three days.”

“First of all – I see him as a friend,” you began heatedly, knowing the tint in your cheeks was betraying your lie, but not caring. “Second of all, we’ve already established the fact that he was being mind-controlled when all of that happened. You can’t blame him for that.”

“I know. I just wanted to see how mad you’d get.” You scoffed, shoving her shoulder playfully.

“I’m going to take a nap,” you said, signaling the end of the conversation as you leaned back in your seat and closed your eyes.

A short time later, the jet touched down at your destination. Turns out when you own a private jet, you can apparently land it wherever you want. At least, that’s what Tony wanted you all to think as you deboarded the plane directly onto a beach. He slipped the pilot a tip before deboarding himself, waving you all in the direction of the beach house you’d be staying in. You took a deep breath as you stepped down onto the sand, savoring in the warmth of the salty air in your lungs.

The house was located right on the edge of the beach. Despite its vast size (as it had to be, given the number of people who would be sleeping there) it still appeared to have a homey, cottage feel. Inside was even more beautiful than the exterior, if possible. The front door opened into a large, open living space, furnished with charcoal gray couches and armchairs accented with ocean blue pillows and throw blankets. The floor was a polished light hardwood, which beautifully reflected the sunlight streaming through the full wall of windows looking out toward the water. A stone fireplace was built into the far wall, serving as the centerpiece for the living area furniture. It looked incredibly cozy and comfortable – beautiful and grandiose, of course (this was Tony’s selection, after all) but cozy.

The crew was eager to spend time in the sun, so you all dropped your bags off in the foyer and headed outside to the beach. Loki attempted to slip into one of the armchairs with his book, but Thor ripped it out of his hands before quite literally dragging him along with the rest of you, going on about ‘team bonding’ and whatnot. You silently thanked Thor for forcing his brother to tag along, immensely curious at how Loki would behave on a beach.

Your teammates began spreading out their beach belongings on the sand, opening up beach chairs and planting umbrellas in the ground. You were a minimalist when it came to the beach, never having been one to bring these extra luxury items. Finding a spot with no rocks, you laid out your beach blanket and plunked your bag down on top of it. Nat laid hers out beside you, and you helped her to set up her umbrella, which she offered to share with you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Thor setting up a spot on the other side of you, placing down a chair each for both him and his brother before pulling out their own beach umbrella. Loki was scowling, still wearing his boots and Asgardian leather as he plopped himself down unceremoniously into his chair under the umbrella, opening his book in his lap. He did look humorously out of place on a beach, you thought, but you hoped he would warm up to the idea of actually joining in some of the fun as he got more comfortable.

Everyone had come prepared to go straight to the beach. Suddenly, everyone was stripping down to their swimsuits around you, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise but still made you feel a bit self-conscious. Nat pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her red swimsuit underneath, and you felt a pang of jealousy at how comfortable your friend seemed in her own skin. You spent a few extra moments contemplating whether you could be happy just hanging out in your tank top and shorts for a while longer. Especially with the burning knowledge that Loki was sitting right beside you.

Peter was the first in the water, followed closely by Bucky and Thor. Nat turned and asked if you were coming yet, but you waved her off, letting her know you’d join the fun in a bit. She squeezed your shoulder comfortingly, knowing what was going through your head without having spoken it aloud, before jogging to catch up with Steve and Bruce as they headed out to join the rest. Even Vision wandered out toward the ocean, although he stood a few feet away from where the waves were lapping up on the shore, watching Wanda as she waded slowly into the water.

You watched the others longingly for another few minutes, finally deciding to fight past your self-consciousness and join the others. Glancing over at Loki, you saw he was still engrossed in his book. Good, he wasn’t paying attention to you, you thought. You hurriedly pulled your shorts and tank top off before he had a chance to glance up at you, stripping down to your bathing suit. You fished around in your bag for the bottle of sunscreen, knowing you would regret it later if you didn’t take the extra few minutes to apply it now. After covering your extremities and everything else you could reach with a layer of sunscreen, you tried to figure out how you were going to get your back. Awkwardly, you reached around behind yourself, easily able to reach the lower part of your back but struggling quite a bit with the middle part. You reached around with your other hand in hopes maybe that shoulder was more flexible.

“You’re going to hurt yourself bending your arm like that.”

Startled, you looked over and found Loki staring at you, an amused expression on his face, book forgotten on the blanket beside him. Your cheeks prickled with heat as his eyes skirted over your body, subconsciously wrapping your arms around your torso to hide yourself from him.

“I am not!” you argued defiantly. “Besides, I don’t want to burn, I have to put sunblock on.”

Loki held out his hand, motioning to the bottle of sunscreen sitting on the blanket beside you. “Give me that. I won’t have you injuring yourself on the first day of vacation.”

“Oh! I appreciate the offer, but you don’t have to do that, Loki,” you replied hurriedly, heartbeat quickening in your chest at the idea of him running his hands along the bare skin of your back. He sighed exasperatedly, getting up out of his chair and picking up the bottle himself, kneeling down beside you and motioning for you to turn your back to him. Now you knew your face was betraying your anxiousness, burning white hot as you gave in to his insistence and turned away from the raven-haired god.

His hands were jarringly cold at first as he placed them on your shoulders. You must have jumped a bit, because he muttered an apology as he rubbed his hands together before touching your skin again. You relaxed a bit under his touch as he rubbed firm circles into your shoulder blades and along the tops of your shoulders. Your mind wandered blissfully to what it would be like to get an actual massage from the god – his fingers probably could work literal magic on your sore muscles. Loki’s hands trailed down to the middle of your back, slipping briefly under the back clasp of your bathing suit to avoid missing anything before moving outward toward your sides.

Gods, it tickled.

You sucked in a breath as you felt his fingertips nearing the sides of your ribs, biting your tongue in a desperate attempt not to laugh. Unfortunately for you, he slid his hands just a little further out along your ribcage, brushing his fingertips down the entire length of your sides. Unable to hold it in, you let out a rapid stream of giggles and arched your back away from his touch.

“Ticklish?” he asked simply. You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the mischievous lilt in his tone, making you flustered.

“Uhh… a bit. Sorry,” you mumbled. He hummed in response, hands returning to the middle of your lower back to finish applying the sunblock for you. His touch was suddenly feather-light as he trailed his fingers along the small of your back and out to your sides. You squealed, twisting ticklishly away from him. “You’re doing it on purpose now!” you accused, turning back around to look at him. His eyes were gleaming, a smirk painted across his face.

“My apologies. You do realize, I hope, that is dangerous knowledge in the hands of the God of Mischief,” he winked. You blushed furiously. He handed you back your sunscreen bottle, returning to his chair and picking up his book.

“Thanks for doing that,” you said appreciatively, quickly adding “except for… you know.”

“My pleasure.”

Rising to your feet, you glanced down at Loki one last time. “You should come join us! Did you bring a bathing suit?” His eyes lifted briefly from the pages of his book.

“I did. But no, thank you. Maybe later.”

“Oh. Alright, later then.” Disappointment weighed heavily on you as you turned and treaded out through the sand toward the rest of your teammates. Thor and Peter cheered off in the distance as they saw you heading toward them, lifting your spirits just a bit.

The ocean water felt frigid at first as your sun-warmed skin adjusted to the drop in temperature, but once you became accustomed to it, it was truly refreshing. The waves lapped up along your waist as you waded out to the others, who were already out up to their shoulders. As you approached, Peter’s eyes went wide, and he opened his mouth to shout something at you. Before he could say anything, a pair of hands pulled firmly on your shoulders and forced you under the water. You surfaced, coughing and spluttering up salt water, rubbing your eyes to find Bucky behind you chuckling.

“So that’s how you play, hmm?” you growled playfully, pulling your arm back and launching a splash of water at the super soldier, spraying him in the face.

“Hey now, that’s my best friend you’re splashing,” Steve warned, paddling over to you. “You don’t want to be messing with two super soldiers, now, do you?”

“He started it!” you whined, splashing another spray of water at Steve for good measure. He blinked, smirking wickedly.

“Oh, you’re in for it now,” he growled, tackling you into the water once again.

It felt so childish, splashing around and wrestling with a bunch of grown adults, but you were having too much fun to care. Nat had been right; this was exactly the sort of team bonding you needed to feel more like you fit into the team. You only wished Loki would join in the fun. Longingly, you turned to glance over at where Loki sat up on the beach. Disappointingly, he had disappeared from his beach chair, nowhere in sight. His absence made your heart ache for him. You tried to suppress the sadness, turning back around to splash Thor in the face.

You had successfully dragged Peter beneath the surface, a surprising feat in itself, when you looked up to see Loki standing at the edge of the shore. It appeared he must have gone inside to change into his swimsuit, a dark green pair of shorts, paired with a solid black T-shirt. Smiling, you waved at him and beckoned for him to join you all, wading closer to the shore where he stood. It seemed that he’d finally given in to joining you, hands grasping the hem of his T-shirt and dragging it up over his head.

Lord, have mercy.

He wasn’t bulky like his brother, but his physique was toned and strong. You allowed your eyes to roam from his face down to his sharp collarbone, down to his abs, and finally to his hips where his green swim shorts hung just below the very top of his hipbones. You swallowed hard.

His eyes met yours as he tossed his shirt off to the side where the water couldn’t reach it to dampen it. A wicked grin spread across his lips when he noticed you staring. He held his hands out to his sides, putting on a show of it.

“Like what you see?”

You opened your mouth and closed it again a couple times, much like a fish, before huffing indignantly and turning away from him, waving him toward the deeper water.

“Brother! You’ve finally decided to stop being a boring lump on the beach!” Thor exclaimed happily.

“Yes, well, I noticed you were all fighting, and I couldn’t possibly pass up the opportunity to watch you drown each other,” he replied sarcastically.

“What – you think you’re not going to get dragged into this?” you asked, a sudden surge of confidence running through your veins. “Oh, I don’t think so.” Bravely, you splashed him, saltwater dampening his hair and dripping down his face. He blinked for a moment, a dangerous look crossing over his features.

“That was a mistake.” He began wading towards you, and you shrieked, quickly turning and swimming in the opposite direction. Loki caught hold of your ankle before you could get very far, dragging you backward and wrapping his strong arms around you before ducking underwater, forcing you down with him. You wriggled out of his hold and surfaced, Loki following suit. You were about to scold him, but you paused when you saw Thor standing behind Loki, winking at you before he tackled his brother into the water, making you snicker.

Looking around to search for Nat, you found her perched on top of Steve’s shoulders as she wrestled with Peter, who sat on Tony’s shoulders. Swimming over, you watched curiously as Nat pulled at Peter’s shoulders trying to knock him down into the water.

“I haven’t played chicken since I was a kid,” you mused, laughing as Peter finally toppled backward off Tony’s shoulders into the water. “I never thought to suggest playing it with a bunch of superheroes.”

“I see it as a bonus training opportunity,” Nat offered in explanation, dusting her shoulders off dramatically to flaunt her victory as Peter surfaced behind Tony. “You should try it. I bet you couldn’t best me.”

“Oh, Nat… I was the master of this game when I was a kid. You don’t know what you’d be in for,” you boasted, grinning up at her. Suddenly, you shrieked as you felt two large hands wrap around your knees, someone swimming up beneath you and lifting you out of the water on their shoulders. The long blonde locks could only belong to one person.

“Let us prove it, then!” Thor cheered from below you.

“Fine then, bring it,” Nat jeered, beckoning toward you threateningly. Carefully maintaining your balance atop Thor’s shoulders, you reached out and grabbed Nat’s outstretched hands, twisting harshly to the side to try to throw her off balance. Completely unphased, she pushed forward against your hands to counterattack. Thor stepped backward to keep you balanced, and you grinned as you used the momentum to pull against her hands, yanking both her and Steve forward into the water.

“Excellent game, Y/N!” Thor cheered, squeezing your knee hard in congratulations. You folded your arms boastfully across your chest, much like you’d seen Thor do many times before.

“I did warn you, Nat – I’m the master of this game,” you chuckled.

“Oh, I don’t think so!” Peter argued, waving Tony over so he could have a go at it. Rubbing your hands together threateningly, you accepted his challenge. It wasn’t long before Peter, too, was in the water.

This was probably the most comfortable you’d ever felt around your teammates. It was childish, and silly, and maybe even immature for a bunch of adult heroes, but you couldn’t care less. Word got around that you had been going undefeated, and suddenly everyone was ready to challenge you. Somehow, you managed to defeat Bucky and Sam, followed by Wanda and Bruce (after warning her that magic was very much cheating in this game). Nat asked for another turn, and so you faced her and Steve once again. Off to your left, you caught a glimpse of Loki standing with his arms crossed, eyes boring a hole into his brother’s head. It must be irksome to him, seeing Thor winning over and over again, you thought.

Nat wasn’t going easy on you this time, grasping your elbows and twisting her body to pull you randomly left and right. Thor kept you balanced as you held your own against the assassin. You twisted your wrists and grabbed hold of her elbows, tugging and nearly knocking her off once again. She kept her balance, though, glaring menacingly at you. A smirk crossed her face, and you braced yourself for her next move.

A pair of hands latched onto your ribs from behind, squeezing harshly. You squealed, leaning backward involuntarily and throwing Thor off balance. Despite your best efforts, both of you collapsed backward into the water. You surfaced, rubbing your eyes before opening them to find Loki snickering at you a few feet away.

“You… cheater!” you accused, pointing a finger in his face.

“Apologies, darling – just trying to make it a fair fight,” he responded casually.

“Man, if I’d known she was ticklish I would have tried that myself,” Sam noted, grinning. You hid your face in your hands, cheeks burning. You shot Loki another glare as you swam past him to get out of the way for the next round. He leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“I did warn you. Dangerous knowledge in the hands of the God of Mischief,” he winked, reaching out and squeezing your side for good measure, earning a yelp.

The sun was shining directly overhead now, and Tony announced that it was time for lunch. You swam to shore along with the others, listening with amusement as Tony and Steve argued about whether one of Tony’s A.I. devices could grill a burger as well as Steve could. It seemed Steve won the argument, as he continued on up to the back porch to start the grill while Tony sulked back to his beach towel, mumbling under his breath.

Regretfully, Loki pulled his T-shirt back on after drying off, plunking back down into his chair and unfolding his book once again. You made small talk with Nat and Wanda until you heard Steve calling everyone over to eat. Wrapping your beach towel around you, you headed up to the porch to join the team for lunch.

You’d never tell Tony, but Steve was probably right about the whole burger debate.

Immediately following lunch, Peter began hurrying back to the water, only to be stopped in his tracks by Vision who insisted that he had to wait a full thirty minutes after eating to go swimming. You didn’t mind – you were still rather tired from swimming earlier and welcomed the idea of taking a nap on the beach with the sun on your skin. The heat of the sand was pleasantly warm on your belly as you stretched out face down across your blanket. You laid your head down on your forearms and closed your eyes. You were vaguely aware of the tall, dark, and handsome Asgardian prince reclaiming his seat next to you a few moments later, hearing the crinkling of pages turning as he returned to his novel.

A small part of you, in the far corner of your mind, wondered if he was checking you out, since you weren’t looking at him. You liked to imagine that maybe he was.

You must have dozed off for a bit because the next thing you knew, Peter was whooping about some game they were playing in the ocean water again. Groggily, you glanced around you to find everyone had gone back out to swim while you were sleeping.

Everyone except Loki, of course.

You tilted your head so your cheek was pressed against your forearm to look at the trickster. He must have finished his book, because it was shut with the bookmark sitting on top of the cover beside him on the blanket. He was leaned back in the chair, legs stretched out and ankles crossed in front of him, arms folded across his chest. He wore a dull, bored expression on his face.

“You look like you’re having the time of your life,” you mumbled, the rasp of sleep still weighing in your voice.

“I’m bored,” he responded shortly, not looking at you.

“Well why don’t you go swimming with them, then? Go try to dunk your brother for payback or something.”

“I’m not interested in swimming at the moment.”

You lifted your head a bit to get a better look at the god, who was starting to sound like a petulant child. You couldn’t help but snort at his stubborn expression.

“Suit yourself, then. But don’t tell me you’re bored if you’re not willing to go find something to do,” you chastised, rolling your eyes before putting your head back down on your arms.

The sun had made you pretty sleepy, and you thought maybe just a few more minutes of a nap would make you feel more energized. Maybe after that you could join the others in the water –

“What are you doing?” you exclaimed suddenly as something heavy weighed down on you. Turning your head, you saw Loki perched on the backs of your legs, grinning wickedly.

“Finding something to do,” he responded casually, reaching forward and digging his fingers under your arms. Shrieking in surprise, you clamped your arms to your sides with some difficulty, giggling hysterically as his fingertips wiggled into the bare skin under your arms.

“LOKI! THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEHEHEANT!” you screamed, twisting to try to roll onto your back without success. “GET OHOHOFF, YOU’RE HEAVY!”

His mouth dropped open in mock surprise, holding a hand to his chest. “You wound me, darling!” he jested. “I suggest you apologize.” His fingers crawled down to vibrate into your ribs, then knead into your sides before sliding under you to claw at the bare skin of your belly. You pounded your feet against the sand in desperation, trying to arch your back up to evade his touch but unable to move under his weight. The fact that his fingers were trapped between you and the sand made the sensation infinitely worse.

“OK! LOHO… LOKI!! I’M SOHOHORRY!! STAHAHAP!” you screeched.

"Mm... I don't believe your heart is in it." Sliding his hands out from under you, his fingers traveled to the back of your neck, fluttering there for a moment before grazing down your back between your shoulder blades. You let out high-pitched giggles, goosebumps rising in the wake of his fingertips as they trailed down your spine. "You are just ticklish everywhere, aren't you?"

"Shh! St-stahp!" you ordered, a chill running through your body when his fingers reached the small of your back.

Thankfully he listened, scratching your sides once more for good measure before finally letting you up. A small part of you felt sad at the loss of his touch, which made your cheeks burn. “Damnit Lohoki, when I sahaid to find something to do, I didn’t mean tickle me to tears!”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I thought it would be entertaining. And as usual, I was correct.” Scoffing at him, although your heart wasn’t in it, you stood up and brushed the few stray grains of sand off your front.

“Well, now that I’m awake, thanks to you… I’m going to go swimming.” You turned and started walking toward the shoreline, glancing back after a moment to find him watching your retreating figure with a small half-grin on his face. Smirking, you made more of a point to sway your hips as you walked to get back at him for teasing you for staring earlier.

Secretly, you hoped he was sweating now the way you had when he took his shirt off.

Before long, the sun was low in the sky, streaks of color spreading across the clouds. Tony had ordered pizza for dinner, and you munched on a slice of pepperoni while sitting cross-legged on your beach blanket. Steve, Sam, and Bucky had sat themselves down on the ends of your and Nat’s blankets so you could take some time to chat while you ate. You hadn’t gotten many opportunities to make small talk with the soldiers, and so you were surprised to find that Steve could be funny underneath all his propriety. Bucky, too, was different in this type of setting – laughing and joking, and shockingly not every joke was sarcastic like he usually was.

Even while you chatted with the group, your eyes were magnetically drawn to Loki. He sat staring at his pizza in his hand for a moment before taking a tentative bite and, seemingly satisfied, continued to eat in silence. Nat had captivated the guys with a funny story from a past mission, so you took the opportunity to scoot over toward the edge of your blanket that touched Loki and Thor’s blanket and looked up at him in his chair with a smile. He looked down at you, brows furrowed.

“What is it?” he asked suspiciously.

“I’m just proud that you’re willingly eating the Midgardian food Tony offered for us,” you teased. “Maybe you’re not so ‘high and mighty’ above all of us as you thought.”

“I’m tolerating the food because I’m hungry,” he corrected you. “If I had it my way, I’d be eating something much more sophisticated.”

“Oh, just admit it, you’re enjoying it!” you bantered. He took a small flask out of his pocket, lifting it to his lips and taking a slow sip. “What’s in there?”

“Asgardian mead,” he responded. “I’m using it to wash down the taste of this garbage you all call food.”

“Can I try it?” you asked. He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Your mortal body would be drunk after just a sip of this,” he responded, placing it down on the blanket beside him. You picked it up and lifted the neck of the flask to your nose, wincing at the aggressively alcoholic smell.

“Oof! No kidding,” you agreed.

“I told you so. Now give it back,” he insisted.

“Hmm…” you looked down at the flask, fiddling with the loose cap as you pondered. You hadn’t yet gotten back at him for making you lose at chicken earlier. “Nah, I think I’ll hold on to this.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, scowling threateningly at you. “No, I don’t believe you will.”

“Mm… I do believe I will.” You stood up and popped your last bite of pizza in your mouth, swallowing it as you began to slowly back away with the flask in your hand. He placed his pizza down on the armrest of his chair, rising to his full height and stalking menacingly towards you.

“Y/N…” he warned, holding his hand out expectantly. “Give it to me.”

“Nope.” You continued walking backward, not noticing the large rock in the sand behind you. As your heel connected with the rock, you lost your balance and toppled over, flask spilling about half its contents into the sand. You gasped as you regained your bearings, flipping the flask right-side up to prevent any further loss of the liquid as you glanced up apologetically at Loki. “Loki! I’m so sorry, I-“

He didn’t say a word as he loomed over you, taking the flask from your hand, and placing it firmly in the sand before turning back to glower threateningly at you. You began to laugh nervously.

“Aheh… Loki, I’m sorry about that, I didn’t mean to – wait, what are you – LOKI! PUT ME DOWN!” He slid one arm around your back, the other under your knees and lifted you effortlessly off the ground. You swung your legs and shoved at his shoulder playfully in protest. Although, in all honesty, you really didn’t mind him sweeping you off your feet.

Until you realized where he was carrying you, that is.

“LOKI! Nohoho… the water is cohohold!” you whined, kicking harder to try to get him to drop you as you neared the shoreline. He maintained his grasp effortlessly, hiking you up once in his arms before wading into the water. “Eek! NO! NO NO! LOKI!”

“Protesting will get you nowhere, darling,” he sighed pitifully, as if it was paining him to have to torment you, eyes bright with mischief. You felt the water against your bare feet as he reached waist-deep ocean. Shrieking at the sudden chill, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held fast to your assailant. His chuckle rumbled in his chest as he let go of your legs, eliciting another squeal as your lower half dropped into the water. In desperation, you wrapped your legs around his waist without even considering the implications, trying to prevent yourself from dropping further into the cold ocean.

“NOHOHOOO!” you moaned, tightening your grip around his neck. He was laughing now, a gleeful smile spreading across his face as he tried to pry you off of him.

“You’re just going to have to accept your icy fate,” he insisted, shoving at your leg to get you to let go. You shook your head wildly, wrapping yourself tighter around his torso. He looked at you with an exasperated sigh, still smiling like a kid. “You leave me no choice.” His fingers slid around your knees and squeezed the muscles above your kneecaps, making you jolt.

“No no nohoho! Dohohon’t!” He slid his hands down along your shins and found your feet, fluttering his fingertips along the soles. You snorted, unwrapping your legs but still hanging onto his neck. Kicking to keep yourself afloat, you shook your head desperately at him as he slowly brought his hands up to rest on your ribcage.

“Are you going to let go now?” he asked warningly.

“Lo-Loki wait, wait, we can talk about this, wa-WAIT WAHAHAIT!” your begging was lost to laughter as he dug his fingers mercilessly into your ribs, immediately causing you to let go and drop down into the cold water. You shrieked, shivering as the chilly water rose up to your shoulders. “T-t-that was m-m-mean!” you groaned, teeth chattering.

“Next time, don’t steal my belongings then.” He scooped you back up into his arms and carried you back to shore, feeling somewhat badly for you as you trembled in his arms from the cold. When he finally placed you down next to your blanket, he picked up your beach towel and wrapped it around your shoulders, rubbing your arms through the towel to warm them.

Your heart melted.

Glancing down at Nat on her blanket, you caught her smirking knowingly at you. You rolled your eyes, sticking your tongue out at her, unable to hide the small, shy smile tugging at your lips.

It turns out you weren’t the only one getting chilly – Peter started complaining about the cool ocean breeze now that the sun had dropped below the horizon, and collectively the group decided it was time to turn in for the evening. You gratefully headed up to your room to change, peeling the cold, wet bathing suit off and rinsing off the sand in the shower before pulling on your dry cotton pajama shorts and T-shirt. Though sleepy, you weren’t quite ready to turn in for the evening, so you wrapped a fleece blanket around your shoulders and padded out to the living area to sit with the other few night owls in the house.

Only Nat, Thor, and Tony sat out in the living room, scattered comfortably across various couches and chairs, chatting quietly but animatedly. The fireplace was lit, flames crackling with a pleasant orange glow illuminating the dim room. Moonlight streamed in through the windows, painting wide streaks of white light along the floors. Nat smiled as you approached, handing you a glass of wine as you made yourself comfortable stretched across one of the couches.

“You seem to be getting quite close to my brother, Lady Y/N,” Thor observed suddenly, causing you to choke on a sip of wine in surprise.

“Wha - *cough* - what makes you say that?” you asked, pounding your fist against your sternum to try to clear your throat of the burning alcohol and acidic fruity taste.

“Well, to be honest, I did not expect him to have any fun today on the beach. Being a frost giant, he is somewhat averse to the sun and heat. He planned to stay put on the beach blanket all day in his regular clothes, reading his novel, but I was able to convince him to at least bring his swimsuit with him.” Thor took a long, drawn-out sip of a dark, caramel-brown alcohol from his glass (which you could only assume was more of that Asgardian mead Loki had shown you), peering at you curiously over the rim. You squirmed a bit under his intense gaze, wrapping the blanket tighter around you protectively.

“Well, I’m glad I was able to change his mind, I guess,” you responded, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance, which was difficult when your heart was threatening to explode out of your chest with nervous energy. You took another, rather large sip from your glass, giving yourself an excuse to stop talking.

Thor leaned back into the cushions of the armchair he’d chosen to sit in, glass resting against his knee, leaning his chin on his free hand as he propped his elbow on the arm of the chair. The long, calculated look reminded you uncannily of his brother, and you wondered if he’d been learning a thing or two from the younger prince. You cleared your throat awkwardly, trying to think of something to say to fill the silence.

“Where is Loki, anyway?” you asked, casual but curious.

“I suspect he is taking an extensive shower to rid himself of every grain of sand that could possibly have attached itself to his body,” Thor chuckled. “He will likely join us in a while. Loki is quite the night owl himself.”

“Oh. Well, that will be nice.” Your heart skipped, excited that he would be coming down to join you. Swallowing the last sip of your wine, you placed the glass on the side table beside you, standing for just a moment to fold the blanket around yourself completely before stretching out with your legs across the couch cushions. Thankfully, the conversation moved away from the God of Mischief, allowing you time to work on controlling the blush in your cheeks before he decided to make his way down to the living room.

By the time Loki finally made his appearance, you had started to nod off a bit on the couch. A nudge to your ankle alerted you to his presence, and you opened your eyes to find him hovering over you.

“Move – I’d like to sit,” he demanded.

“Why? There’s a free couch over there,” you argued, tilting your head in the direction of said couch. Your arms were tightly wrapped up in your blanket, and you really didn’t feel like pulling them out of your warm cocoon to point.

“I would like to sit facing the fireplace,” he countered.

“Well, you’ll have to find another spot. I’m comfortable already,” you sassed. Rolling his eyes, he picked your legs up by your ankles and sat in the original spot he had wanted, placing your feet back down in his lap. “Ugh. I guess this is an acceptable compromise.” Nat and Thor, you noticed, exchanged a knowing look across the room.

Loki didn’t contribute much to the conversation, silently brooding on his corner of the couch as you made pleasant conversation with the other three. You were acutely aware of his hand resting on your leg, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your ankle through the blanket. At first, you couldn’t relax, mind reeling about the possible reasons for him to be touching you in such a pleasant way. You grew accustomed to it after a while, though. You burrowed yourself deeper into the corner of the couch, the blanket catching on Loki’s leg and revealing your socked feet and bare ankles. His hand lifted off of your leg as you shifted, but once you’d settled he rested it against the warm skin of your ankle, his palm pleasantly cool.

Gradually, as you continued to converse, the weight in his touch reduced to the point where his thumb was skimming across the thin skin around your ankle bone. It wasn’t overly bothersome, but you were surprised to find that it sent ticklish tingles up your leg. You tried to ignore it for a bit, but in all honesty it was incredibly distracting, and you couldn’t hide the small smile on your face. Loki, ever the perceptive one, noticed. He tilted his head in confusion, then slowly broke out in a grin as he realized what was happening.

“Don’t tell me your ankles are ticklish,” he laughed, fluttering his fingertips with more intent just above the edge of your sock. Your foot twitched and you whined childishly.

“Don’t make fun of me!” you groaned, pulling your head into the blanket burrito you’d created for yourself so that only your eyes and up was visible. He placed a heavy hand on top of your legs, using his free hand to skitter his fingers up and down the tops of your socked feet. This, unlike your ankles, was unbearable.

"This is quite the significant weakness you have. It would be a shame if an enemy were to learn of your sensitivity." You twisted to try to free your arms from your blanket, but the motion only served to tighten it around you.

“Wahahait! I’m stuhuhuck!”

“Oh, are you?” You didn’t like the look in his eyes.

“Wait – Loki, don’t – no, don’t you even think about it – no no NOHOHO!” your pleas fell on deaf ears as he leaned over and dug his fingers into your belly through the blanket. You threw your head back, laughing uncontrollably. It only served to fuel his mischievous mood, as his fingers darted over to your sides and up to your collarbones and neck.

“Oh, for god’s sake, just tell her you like her already!”

Loki’s tickling fingers stopped, resting against your belly, and you let out a few residual giggles as you both looked over at Nat. She had sat up, arms folded defiantly across her chest as she observed you both.

“Nat! What do you –“ you began, but she cut you off.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” she continued, still staring Loki down. “You’re trying to play it off like you’re teasing her, tickling her all day, being your usual mischievous self, but in reality you just want the excuse to be close to her. Don’t try to deny it.”

Loki stared, slightly slack-jawed at Nat, still hovering over you as if he was frozen in place. You opened your mouth to try to come to his defense, but Nat turned her head to stare you down, and you shrank a bit under her gaze.

“And you – you’re just as guilty here. You’ve been finding any excuse to push his buttons so he’ll come after you and flirt with you. You pretend you don’t want it, but you love every second of it.” Heat crawled up your neck and spread out to your ears. Both you and Loki turned to look at each other hesitantly. Uncertainty was written across his face, and you were sure yours mirrored his insecurity.

"Alright! I need another drink!” Tony announced suddenly, standing abruptly from the couch and motioning to Thor and Nat. “Why don’t you two come help me pick out a good vintage.”

“I shall do my best – however, no Midgardian wine could possibly hold up to the Asgardian vineyards…” Thor’s voice faded as the others left the room, Nat shooting you one last pressuring glance.

Loki sat up, letting you unravel yourself from your blanket to have access to your arms again. The only sound was the fire crackling in the fireplace, the distant whoosh of the ocean waves barely audible. Finally, you opened your mouth, unable to take the silence any longer.

“You don’t have to say anything, Loki. I can just… forget this conversation ever happened, if you’d prefer.” You couldn’t look him in the eye, focusing instead on picking at the callous on one of your hands.

He remained quiet for a moment, and you wondered what more you could say to fix things. Your mind came up blank. Pulling the blanket up around your shoulders, you stood from the couch and mumbled a hasty ‘goodnight’ before heading back to your room.

“Wait.”

You stopped, turning around to see Loki’s blue-green eyes gazing up at you pleadingly. Your heart fluttered with excitement, wondering if Nat could actually have been right. He turned himself on the couch, stretching his legs out across where you previously sat, leaning against a large pillow against the arm of the couch behind him. He motioned wordlessly for you to sit with him, patting the space on the couch between his legs. You unwrapped the blanket completely, anxiously sitting down and turning to settle your back against his chest, legs stretched out between his. He took the blanket from your hands, shaking it out so it could cover over the both of you and pulled it up to your neck. Strong arms wrapped around your torso, pulling you to rest more heavily against him. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, a tiny, sleepy smile flitting across your face.

You felt him bury his face into your hair, mouth turning up into a smile as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. The fire flickered warmly as you drifted happily off to sleep, feeling safe in Loki’s arms.

330 notes · View notes

lizslibrary · 1 year

Text

This was just a WHIRLWIND of emotions. I love it!! 💚🧊

Snowed In

Word count: 16,800

Pairing: Loki x reader (enemies to lovers)

Warnings: Sexual tension and innuendos 🔥🔥🔥, nongraphic descriptions of injury, hypothermia, violence, killing bad guys, making out

We had a blizzard, and it inspired me to write off prompt 😎 (or should I say 🥶) So, please enjoy another idea of my own making!

Alright, snow boots... fleece gloves... heavy socks...

You sifted through your bag for the fourth time that evening, making note on your mental checklist of each and every winter gear item you had stored inside. It would do you no good to arrive up in the mountains and not have the appropriate attire. Best to make absolutely sure you were prepared before departing the next morning.

Heavy coat... snow pants... winter hat... extra underwear...

Ok, so maybe you were a bit neurotic. But it suited you just fine. You prided yourself on being a planner - the person who had everything the team could possibly need, including the items they never thought they would. It might not be a superpower, but it was damn close to one. Especially when you were paired on missions with scatterbrains like Tony or Bucky. They had a particular appreciation for your aptitude for organization.

Flashlight... first aid kit... snow goggles... alright, done.

Satisfied, you closed your bag and zippered it up, setting it aside for the morning. To say you were nervous was an understatement. Not only was this the first time you would be hiking through the icy mountains - a place you'd never really hoped to visit, given your hatred of the cold - it would also be your first mission being paired with the mysterious and brooding God of Mischief.

You and Loki hadn't crossed paths much since your initiation to the team. He tended to keep to himself, Thor had explained - it wasn't anything you had done in particular. So, you tried not to pay him any mind. But it was hard not to take it personally when he seemed to disappear the moment you entered a room.

Loki intrigued you. He had this air of elusiveness about him, and yet he had a regal confidence that announced his presence without him having to say a word. It was undebatable that he was unfathomably attractive. That stern, sharp jawline... those perfect cheekbones... and those eyes.

It was really a shame he was such a jerk.

When Fury called asking for two agents to trek out to the snow-peaked mountains to track down a hidden ancient magical artifact, you had offered up your services immediately. Being new to the team, you were desperately trying to carve out your place. This didn't seem the type of mission that required super powers or magic, simply grit and determination. And perhaps a tolerance for the cold, which you were certain you could figure out along the way.

No one else seemed keen on partaking in this particular mission. In all fairness, Steve and Bucky had just come back from Berlin three days ago and were still pretty battered, and Tony and Bruce were on the cusp of a breakthrough with developing a retractable hook shot that could fit inside the standard belts on most of the heroes' outfits. And the others? Well... they just hated the cold.

It was Thor who had volunteered Loki. As a frost giant, Loki had a tolerance to subthermal temperatures unmatched by anyone else on the team. It only made sense that he would go along on this particular mission. Loki, of course, had no interest in helping Fury with anything. But, it was hard to argue with the stubborn SHIELD director when he suggested that perhaps Loki would prefer to serve time in a high-security cell for his prior crimes against Earth, given how uninterested he seemed in helping pay recompense by assisting the Avengers.

You had no idea how Loki felt about this development, outside of the fact that he quite obviously didn't want to go in the first place. The fact that he would be paired with you hadn't even arisen in the conversation - he was too busy scolding Thor for having opened his mouth and daring suggest he actually contribute to SHIELD's endeavors. Perhaps he had forgotten he'd have a partner in this at all.

You found out soon enough exactly how he felt.

Late that evening, on your way back to your bedroom from the common room after finally deciding you might be able to fall asleep, you heard loud voices from behind a door as you walked past. You thought nothing of it at first, having grown accustomed to the rambunctious shouting of the various tower inhabitants, but the familiar baritone timbre made you pause and listen. The door wasn't completely closed, so it technically wasn't eavesdropping... at least, that's what you told yourself as you crept closer to the crack in the door to listen to the conversation.

"Loki - for the last time, I'm not going to apologize for volunteering you for this!" Thor sounded frustrated, almost exasperated, as though he'd been arguing about this all evening. "Use your common sense, brother! Look me in the eye and tell me you are not the perfect choice to go on this mission."

"I am well aware of my heritage, Thor," Loki spat. "No need to continuously remind me of such."

"Then why are you so angry about going? This should be child's play for you."

"I did not sign up to babysit a mortal, Thor."

You bristled at his words. Babysit? Who the hell did he think he was, talking about you that way?

"The young agent is more than capable," Thor argued. "You need not be concerned about that."

"Oh, is that right? Tell me, then. What power does this mortal possess?"

"She is clever and strong-willed. She need not bear magical powers to succeed on this mission."

Loki scoffed. "Strong-willed. Give her fifteen minutes out there in the snow and ice, and she'll be begging to return to the cabin."

You'd heard enough. Clenching your jaw, you stepped away from the door and stormed back to your own room, swallowing the burning feeling in your throat. No, you weren't going to let yourself cry over his words. You were going to hold your head high and face him gracefully the next morning. Or, perhaps you'd simply aim to make his life a living hell.

Maybe that was too petty.

The following morning, you were the first to arrive at the quinjet. You prided yourself on being punctual, so it made you only that much more satisfied when Loki wandered up the ramp to the jet ten minutes late.

"Morning," you stated flatly as he stepped into the jet cabin. He nodded stiffly before taking his seat across from you, leaning his head back against the headrest and stretching his legs out lazily in front of himself. It was as though he was purposely trying to spread out, make himself look larger and more intimidating. "Where is your bag?"

"I don't have one," he sneered.

"You're just going to wander out into the mountains with no supplies, then?"

"I don't need extra baggage." His eyes locked on yours as he said the word. You huffed, turning your gaze away from his. No need for idle chit-chat on this plane ride anyway. It was only a distraction.

You decided to get some rest - save your energy for when you truly needed it. Allowing your eyes to slip closed, you slowly drifted off to sleep. It wasn't the most comfortable position to sleep in, sitting upright in a less-than-cushioned chair, but you knew you would thank yourself in the long run for the extra shut-eye.

"Get up."

It felt like only minutes had gone by when the deep, gravelly voice of your partner was urging you awake. Your eyes flew open to find Loki hovering over you, looking irritable as ever as he motioned for you to stand.

"We're here. I hope you had a lovely nap, mortal." There was a sarcastic bite to his tone that told you he didn't actually feel the sentiment he was expressing. With a sharp glare, you stood up and hoisted your bag onto your shoulder, disembarking the jet behind the ornery god.

The world you stepped out into was what you could only classify as a winter wonderland. A thick layer of untrodden snow coated the ground, reflecting the bright sunlight off its surface. The air certainly had an icy bite to it, but it was tolerable for the brief period between stepping off the jet ramp and heading across the field to the safe house you'd be using as a home base - a small, somewhat dilapidated-looking cabin with nothing of consequence around it.

The wooden front door to the cabin stuck as you tried to shove it open, forcing you to throw your weight into it to make it budge. Loki rolled his eyes, waving his hand with a flourish and opening the door the rest of the way with a burst of green light.

"Couldn't have done that before I bruised my shoulder on the door, could you?" you growled.

"I would have, if you hadn't been so eager to open it yourself."

Scowling, you stepped inside and fumbled along the wall for a light switch. Your fingers finally met the battered plastic of the switch cover, flipping on the lights and illuminating the interior of the cabin. It certainly left something to be desired. It appeared to be all one room, with the exception of a door in the back leading to what you could only hope was a separate bathroom. The floors and walls were made up of exposed, aging wood, with a couple of loose floorboards sticking up toward the far edge of the room. There was a small kitchenette with a fridge and a stove, and a dusty-looking futon sofa placed in front of the large fireplace - the only redeeming quality of this place.

"Where are we supposed to sleep?" you asked.

"I suspect there," Loki responded, gesticulating to the rolled-up sleeping bags in the corner. You let out an exasperated sigh.

"If I'd known, I'd have brought my own pillow," you muttered under your breath. You dropped your bag on the floor unceremoniously beside the sleeping bags in the corner, trudging across the room to inspect the mystery door. Much to your relief the door did lead into a small bathroom, although it wasn't anything spectacular, with its leaking sink and narrow shower stall.

"Are you finished? We really should be getting on with this."

"I have to put on my snow gear, then we can go." You crossed the room back to your bag, and Loki scoffed impatiently. It was just one gripe too many at this point. Whipping around to face him, you glared fiercely at the sullen god. "What the hell is your problem?!"

"My problem? You've been eyeing me as though I'm dirt from the moment I stepped on the quinjet," Loki shot back, squaring his shoulders.

"Oh, please. Don't act as if you didn't hate me from the start!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I heard you and Thor talking last night!" You rose to your full height, though Loki had at least a few inches on you. "Don't worry - you don't have to babysit me. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself!"

"So you say. But the moment things begin to get treacherous, this mission is going to fall on my shoulders to complete," Loki snapped back. "And not only that, but it will be my responsibility to make sure you make it back alive."

"Oh, so sorry my life is such a burden for you." You whirled around, crouching by your bag and digging forcefully through your belongings to drag out the winter gear you needed.

"That's not what I-"

"Save it, Loki. Let's just get through this mission and get home, alright?" You began throwing on your gear haphazardly, zipping up your coat and yanking your hat down over your head. Tugging on your gloves, you motioned to the door. "After you, prince."

Loki gave you a scalding look, nudging past you on his way out the door. You released a puff of air, a breath you hadn't noticed you were holding, before following him outside into the chill mountain air.

The quinjet had taken off and headed back to headquarters already, it’s absence a stark reminder that you were truly stuck out here with Loki until you could finish this mission and call for your ride. Around the side of the cabin, SHIELD had left a snowmobile for easier travel. One snowmobile. You were relieved that you would at least not have to hike through the entire mountain range, but the idea of having to be that close to your Asgardian partner right now made you sick. Still, you were a professional. You weren't about to allow a petty rivalry between you and your partner to get in the way of the success of this mission.

"Do you want to drive, or do you want me to drive?" you asked, trying to extend some form of an olive branch by allowing him to choose.

"I'll drive." He swung his leg over the vehicle and parked himself on the front half of the seat, looking at you expectantly. Gritting your teeth, you mounted the back of the snowmobile, feeling around along the seat beneath you for something to hang onto that wasn't the prick seated in front of you. "I'm sorry to tell you, but unless you want to fall off the back of this the moment we start moving, you're going to have to suck it up and hold onto me. I understand how repulsed you must be by the idea."

"I'm not repulsed." You hesitantly wrapped your arms around his waist, holding on loosely. With an exasperated sigh, he suddenly grasped both your wrists and tugged to tighten your grip, eliciting a surprised squeak. A low, rumbling laugh emanated deep within his chest at your reaction.

"What's wrong? Never been this close to a man before?"

"Never one quite like you," you snarled. He merely laughed once again.

"Where should we start?"

"Let's head southeast. The cavern is supposedly somewhere to the east of here, and we've got to start somewhere."

"Fine."

The engine roared to life, and without another word, the snowmobile kicked off into gear, speeding across the snow-coated ground. You'd never admit it, but he was right to force you to hang on tighter - you felt yourself slide backward the slightest bit the moment the vehicle began to move.

A benefit of the deafening noise of the engine was you didn't need to pretend to make small talk with your infuriating partner. The most you said to him was to direct Loki toward any suspicious-looking crevices in the rocks that might house the artifact. Otherwise, you remained silent as Loki drove you both through the mountainous terrain.

An hour later, the wind began to kick up. Once bright and sunny, the sky gradually became coated with a gray covering of clouds. Pointing to a shallow-looking cavern inset into a rock wall, you urged Loki to pull over so you could evaluate the situation. Surprisingly, he obliged, slowing the snowmobile to a halt as you approached the opening to the cavern.

"The weather's starting to get bad. We'll need to turn back if it gets any worse," you warned, your eyes skimming over the ominous swell of gray clouds hanging overhead.

"You'll need to turn back," he corrected. "I would be just fine."

"Loki..." You pinched the bridge of your nose with a gloved hand in frustration. "I don't know what you're trying to prove, but even a frost giant shouldn't be wandering around in a blizzard. Not up here in the mountains."

"Since when did you become an expert on what a frost giant can and cannot do?" he sneered.

"Hey! I'm looking out for your well being, Loki! It's not a competition!"

"Of course it isn't. If it were, you'd have little hope of victory."

Throwing your hands up with a groan, you turned and walked into the cavern just to have an excuse to put some distance between the two of you. If you were lucky enough, maybe the artifact was hidden in here. Then you could get right to calling SHIELD to return with the quinjet and go home without having to spend a night with Mr. Holier-Than-Thou. Deep down, of course, you knew that would be too good to be true. But at least it gave you something to do that wasn't standing around with your jerk of a partner.

Sure enough, the cavern was decidedly unremarkable. You made sure to check every nook and crevice, just to be thorough (and perhaps to waste a little extra time). By the time you returned, the wind outside was whipping the snow up off the ground into bursts of flurries, and new snow had started to fall from the sky.

"Find anything?" Loki asked, leaning casually against the outer wall of the cavern.

"Nope. But we need to go back. Hate to burst your bubble, Your Highness."

Loki rolled his eyes, scowling. "Fine. Get on, then." He took his seat in front of the snowmobile and you hopped on behind him, not wasting any time being hesitant about grabbing hold of him in favor of getting the hell out of there before things got worse.

It was a damn good thing Loki was driving, because you could barely see a foot in front of you by the time you reached the cabin. The moment the vehicle stopped in front of the door, you staggered off the back and began to stumble toward the cabin with your forearm held out in front of your eyes to block the wind. Loki opened the door proactively this time, and the pair of you slipped inside before slamming it shut behind you.

You quickly shed your damp winter gear, digging through your bag for a warm change of clothes. Meanwhile, Loki was suddenly enveloped in a shimmer of green, the dampness vanishing from his attire leaving him looking warm and dry. He caught you watching him, shooting you a self-assured smirk and a wink as you gathered your own change of clothes in your arms. Rolling your eyes, you brought your outfit to the bathroom to change.

"Why don't you make yourself useful and start a fire in the fireplace?" you directed as you brushed past him.

"Ooh, yes ma'am," he shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. Choosing not to engage, you disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

You returned wearing dry clothes, finding a relatively dust-free spot on the floor to lay out your wet attire to air dry. Loki, you suspected, had used magic to conjure up a fire, as the hearth was already roaring with a blazing flame. At least it meant you didn't have to focus so much on trying not to shiver, now that the cabin was warming up a bit. Shivering, you were certain, would equate to weakness in Loki's mind.

"We're going to need more firewood once there's a lull in the storm," you stated matter-of-factly. "We'll have to wait until the morning to go back out searching - need to make sure this band of bad weather has passed first before we get caught far from the cabin."

"Am I to assume I shall be the one collecting firewood?" Loki jeered. You squared your shoulders.

"I'm perfectly capable of cutting firewood. You can make us dinner if you'd prefer."

"Don't be ridiculous. I can cut firewood using magic. Don't waste your energy."

"Then why even bring it up?" You crossed your arms, shooting him an icy glare. "You know, Loki - it's gonna be a long few days if you can't manage to stop treating me like I'm useless."

"Then perhaps you should stop treating me as though I'm vile," he retorted, glowering right back.

"What are you talking about?! The only reason I don't like being around you is because you seem to have some problem with me!"

Loki laughed humorlessly. "Please. I've seen the wary side-eyed looks you send my way. You've been doing it ever since you came to live with this band of blundering misfits. Don't behave as though you're irreproachable."

You stared at him in confusion for a moment. "Loki - I only look at you that way because you've always made it a point to avoid me!"

"I avoid everyone. It isn't a sentiment I feel exclusively toward you."

"And yet, somehow you seem to tolerate the others for at least brief periods of time. But the moment you see me approach, you high-tail it out of the room!"

Loki sighed. "Clearly we're getting nowhere with this conversation. I'm going to collect that firewood. Fix us something to eat, if that is what you'd like." With that, he pivoted on his heel and stormed outside, slamming the door shut behind him.

It took everything in you not to scream out loud in an explosion of aggravation. He was infuriating. The nerve, turning this around and insinuating this bad blood was to be blamed on you.

You wrenched open the door to the refrigerator and poked around inside, just to have something to do with yourself besides stew over this. The selection left much to be desired. A few nearly-spoiled fruits, a jug of filtered water, a bag of shredded cheese that at least had an expiration date printed on it that was in the future. You shut the fridge and dug around in the cupboards, finding a box of dry pasta and an unopened can of tomato sauce. Wonderful. Pasta it is.

You hoped it was deemed acceptable enough for your ungrateful partner's taste.

Loki returned only ten minutes later, the door opening for a moment and allowing a swirling cloud of snow to blow inside before he slammed it shut behind him with his boot. You didn't bother looking at him as you fished out a pot from deep within the cupboard and filled it with tap water to boil the pasta. A loud clattering told you he'd dropped the stack of firewood on the floor next to the fireplace. Shutting off the tap, you transferred the pot from the sink to the stovetop and lit the gas burner to let the water boil.

"It seems, perhaps, we got off on the wrong foot." The proximity of Loki's voice startled you, realizing he was standing right behind where you were preparing dinner. You tried not to flinch, but knew you hadn't completely succeeded as you heard Loki utter an apology under his breath.

"You think we did?" You turned your head to glare at him out of the corner of your eye.

"I'm trying to clear the air. The least you could do is drop that bite in your tone."

You let out a breath. "You're right. Sorry."

"Thank you." He hovered over you as you opened the box of pasta and measured out what you thought might be enough for two servings. It was always impossible to tell with pasta. Not to mention you were cooking for a god. Who knew what the standard serving size of pasta was for a god?

"You think we can put aside our differences? At least for the next few days?" you asked.

"If you can promise to stop looking at me as if I'm dirt, I suppose I can refrain from commenting on your... mortal limitations."

"If that's as good as it's going to get between us, then fine. Sounds great."

"Wonderful." Loki left your side, pacing toward the fireplace to stoke the fire while you continued cooking. It wasn't much, but at least you didn't feel the desire to wring his neck any longer.

The two of you sat down at the small, time-worn dining table to eat your meager dinner. Outside, the wind howled and heavy snow pelted the roof, setting the soundtrack to your awkward meal. Loki was silent as he ate, but at least he wasn't complaining. Still, the silence became too much for you. So, you did the unthinkable, and attempted to make small talk with the most stand-offish member of the Avengers tower.

"So... how long have you been staying with your brother and the rest of the team?" you asked between bites. Loki's eyes flitted up from his plate to meet yours, brows raised in confusion at the idea that you'd even consider taking an interest in him.

"Too long," he responded finally. You furrowed your brow, prepared to scold him for not at least making an effort to exchange pleasantries, but he continued. "It isn't exactly pleasant living with a team of heroes who once were your sworn enemy."

Your expression softened, then. That wasn't something you'd even really considered. In the time you'd known Loki, he had been on the right side of the line between good and evil, albeit not very far from the border. But the others - well, you could only imagine what they thought of him, after going through everything they did.

"I see." You were at a loss for anything better to say. A heavy silence fell over the two of you once again. Unwilling to give up so soon, you finally spoke. "Have you ever gone on any other missions before?"

"Once. Thor begged me to accompany him and his little friends."

"You don't sound enthused.”

“Was it that obvious?” He stabbed his fork into his pasta with perhaps more force than was necessary. “Thor was the only one who actually wanted me to come. The others… let’s just say they would have been much happier in my absence.”

“Well they aren’t here now,” you offered, a feeble attempt to lighten his mood. “It’s just me.”

“You haven’t exactly enjoyed my company thus far either.”

You fell silent once again. This time, your mind was buzzing with this newfound understanding of Loki’s attitude. It was a front, a wall he built around himself to protect him from the sharp daggers sent his way by the unfriendly gazes of the others. They stung him more than he was willing to let on.

Still, it didn’t excuse his attitude toward you. You hadn’t done or said anything to warrant his rudeness. Although, you supposed that for someone who only received unfriendly looks, even the mildest of wary gazes might start to burn.

"So... how does someone like you - someone with no discernable powers, with nothing particularly noteworthy about your physique - end up working as an agent of SHIELD?" Loki asked.

"Um, rude."

"It was meant to be a joke."

"Really? I couldn't tell."

Loki rolled his eyes. "You mortals are so irascible." You glared at him. "In all seriousness - how did you come to find yourself working for SHIELD?"

"Obviously, as you've so astutely pointed out, I don't have any special powers. But the Avengers already have plenty of brawn and magic. The reason they hired me was for my intellect, not my physicality." Loki tilted his head, urging you to elaborate. "I was top of my class in the forensics program at my university. SHIELD approached me shortly after I graduated and got me working behind the scenes, teasing out the solutions to unsolved mysteries of the mystical arts and the magical artifacts they'd sequestered from falling into the wrong hands. After a while, I got bored working in an office. Fury himself set me up with a training program to build on the physical skills required to be a SHIELD agent."

"You chose to face the dangers that exist in all these Nine Realms with nothing but your 'intellect' and a bit of battle simulation training?" Loki appeared skeptical, which only made you sit up straighter as you nodded.

"That, and a whole lot of grit and determination." Loki gazed wordlessly at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Something else to say?"

"Just that you're either quite impressive or quite foolish."

"That was almost a compliment."

"Hardly."

"I'll take what I can get." You rose from the table, scooping up your empty plate and taking Loki's as well. "Why don't you go tend to the fire while I clean up?"

Loki looked put out by the fact that you were ordering him around, but he didn't say anything as he stood and strode over to the fireplace to do as you asked. As you washed the dinner plates, you reflected on the fact that you'd actually held a conversation with the sullen god for once. Aside from the clear disregard for your feelings with his supposed 'joke,' it wasn't actually all that unpleasant. If nothing else, perhaps the pair of you wouldn't fight all evening.

There wasn't much to do in the cabin, and the blizzard was unrelenting. Loki conjured up a book out of nowhere and sat lounging on the futon in silence as he read. Entertainment was one thing you hadn't planned on needing, so you spent most of the evening researching a map of the area that SHIELD had provided you to assess for possible locations for the hidden artifact. You marked a few possible locations, figuring you could review them with Loki in the morning before setting out on your renewed search.

Shortly after nightfall, you decided it would be best to turn in for the evening and get some rest. Loki remained seated on the sofa, reading by the light of the fire as you unrolled your sleeping bag and balled up one of your sweatshirts to use as a makeshift pillow. You slid between the layers of the sleeping bag and zippered it around yourself, sitting up a bit with the opening of the thick fabric bunched around your midsection.

"Are you going to get some sleep?" you asked, feeling a bit awkward.

"I don't sleep much," he replied flatly, not glancing up from his novel. "No need to worry about me."

"Oh. Alright." You lay back down, pulling the sleeping bag up to your shoulders as you rested your head against the sweatshirt-turned-pillow. Do I say goodnight? Would that be weird? Taking a breath, you decided just to do the amicable thing and say it. "G'night."

"Goodnight." He didn't sound overly enthused, but he didn't sound annoyed either. At least he couldn't say you weren't trying to be friendly. Turning onto your side, you let your eyes slip closed and tried to calm your mind enough to get some sleep.

* * *

The following morning, you awoke to the vibration of your communications device on the floor beside your head. Dragging one arm out from inside the warmth of the sleeping bag, you fumbled around blindly with your hand until your fingers closed around the device. Without standard cell phone service up in the mountains, this could only be one person calling.

"Director Fury... *ahem* to what do I owe the pleasure?" you muttered groggily.

"Agent." His voice was much too... demanding for this hour of the morning. "I have good news and bad news."

"Let's go with the good news, then." You sat up, glancing around until your eyes fell on Loki. He must have finally gone to bed, as he was resting inside his own sleeping bag on the opposite side of the room. The sight was almost adorable, in a weird way.

"The team has tracked down the exact coordinates of the artifact."

"That's... great news, sir!"

Loki began to stir at your outburst, rolling onto his back and sitting up to glare at you. So much for adorable.

"You may not think so when I give you the bad news."

"Oh? And what is that?"

"There's a deadline now to find this thing."

"I don't understand." You frowned, brow furrowed in confusion. Loki noticed your perturbed expression, sliding himself out of his sleeping bag to wander over and listen in to the conversation. You put Fury on speakerphone.

"Turns out a small faction of wannabe Zealots remained at large after Strange managed to drive off Dormamu. We gained the intel on the exact location of the artifact because they discovered its whereabouts. And they're headed to sequester it. Today."

A swirling gust of wind blew against the walls of the cabin outside. Peering through the small window by the door, the only thing you could see was white powder spiraling through the air.

"Fury - we're in the middle of a blizzard," you informed nervously. "Do you think they'll come out in this?"

"You've heard the stories, agent. Nothing - and I mean nothing - will stand in their way. I'm counting on you. Don't screw up."

He hung up the phone without another word. Loki had stood before you could even look at him, changing into his leather armor from his sleep tunic with a wave of his hand. You nearly tumbled out of your sleeping bag trying to scramble to your feet.

"I'll plot out the coordinates he sent over on the map," you stated, gathering your winter gear. Loki spun around and looked at you incredulously.

"You can't possibly think it's a good idea for you to go out in this weather."

"Yeah, well, Fury didn't exactly leave us much choice. And if the enemy is truly on their way, he's not wrong. We've got to get going."

You stooped down to slip on your snow boots and tie the laces. Suddenly, you were interrupted by a hand clasping tightly around your upper arm, whipping you around.

"You're not coming with me. I'm going alone." Loki's gaze was cold, unwavering. You bristled at his harshness.

"Absolutely not. I'm coming with you."

"Did I ask you, agent? You're staying here." Loki released your arm, striding toward the door. This time, you caught his arm.

"Loki! Stop treating me like I'm a burden!!" The volume of your voice surprised even you. In any case, it got Loki to pause in his warpath toward the door. "I can do this! You need me as much as I need you!"

He scoffed. "What need have I for a mortal? You'll only slow me down."

"You need someone to think logically while you... stomp around all high and mighty acting reckless!!" You took a confident step forward, pointing your index finger at him threateningly. "You might have the skill, but you sure as hell don't have the patience to get this done right!"

"You'll surely die out there in this weather!"

"Then I'll die a hero!"

"You'll die a fool!" Loki wrenched his arm from your grasp, whirling around and stomping into a corner in a fit of frustration. When he turned around, his expression was less angry and more fretted. "What in Valhalla are you trying to prove?? You know as well as I this is a dangerous task!"

"I'm not trying to prove anything! I'm committed to the mission, and I intend to see it through from start to finish!" You returned to lacing your boots. "I knew what I was signing up for when I joined SHIELD. You don't have to protect me. I'm well aware of the risks."

Loki sighed exasperatedly. For the briefest of moments, his eyes softened as he gazed upon you, almost forlornly. "We're wasting time arguing about this. If you want to come, fine. I'm not going to stop you."

"Thank you."

Silently, you finished adorning your winter gear, trying not to allow the anxiety of what you were about to do to overcome you. The coordinates on the map were only a thirty-minute snowmobile ride away, perhaps an hour in this weather. And you had prepared for the icy terrain. You were ready for this.

The moment you stepped outside, you began to second-guess your decision.

The blizzard was worse than it had been yesterday, if that were at all possible. A gust of wind nearly made you stumble as you made your way toward what you assumed must be where the snowmobile was parked. You couldn't be sure - the air around you was completely white-washed. All you could focus on was following Loki, who clearly seemed to still be capable of seeing at least a few feet in front of him, and getting on that snowmobile.

"I need you to actually hold on this time. As if your life depends on it."

Because it might, you thought as you mounted the back of the snowmobile and wrapped your arms tight around Loki without hesitation this time. A roar of the engine, a cloud of snow, and the two of you were careening across the treacherous landscape.

The wind whipped your hair chaotically around your face as you traveled, strands slapping your cheeks like sharp little needles stinging your skin. You ducked to keep your face hidden behind Loki in a feeble effort to block some of the headwind with his torso. A sharp left turn took you skirting just barely around a massive boulder that you didn't see until you were zooming past it. You said another silent thank you to the fact that Loki was seated in the driver's seat of this vehicle right now.

At long last, the snowmobile skidded to a stop as you reached the designated coordinates. Your wind-whipped skin stung with the sharp cold of the snow billowing up into your face. You had made it. The official halfway mark of your journey lay before you - all you needed to do now was find it.

"Do you see anything?" Your voice was nearly swallowed by the blizzard gales despite shouting at the top of your lungs.

"Nothing - keep looking." Loki stepped heavily along the rock wall, feet buried up to his ankles in the snowdrifts that had been forced to take shape by the oppressive storm. You pressed a gloved hand against the wall, using it as a guide to carefully step in the opposite direction of Loki in search of any unusual crevice in the jagged surface. As your palm trailed along the stone, you noticed a looser pile of boulders jutting out from the wall.

"Loki!" you all but screamed. "Here!!"

The crunching of his boots in the snow was barely audible over the whistling gusts as he approached your location. When he'd made it close enough to see what you were referring to, he nodded.

"This is it."

“We have to figure out how to get inside.”

Loki chuckled almost pityingly. “Please. That won’t be a challenge.”

A green gleam of light shone through the sheets of white snow flinging through the air. A sudden feeling of panic washed over you as you realized what he planned to do.

"Loki!! Wait!" You glanced up, squinting just enough to see the boulders stacked well over both of your heads. "Don't-"

It was too late to warn him. The light flung from his hands and blasted into the rocky wall, blasting a hole in the rubble to reveal a cavern. For once in your life, you didn't think first before diving into your partner, looping both arms around him and tackling him to the ground just as a rockslide began rumbling and echoing through the mountains.

Loki landed hard in the snow, and you crashed down with him. Your upper body stretched diagonally across his torso where you'd landed, head pressed against his chest as you shut your eyes tight and awaited your impending death. All around you, heavy cracking of rock smashing against rock made your ears ring as the boulders tumbled down the wall. You shouted out in pain as one landed on the back of your thigh. A scattering of smaller rocks and pebbles rained down into the snow, and then just as quickly as it had started, it was all over.

You rolled off of Loki onto your back, feeling somewhat self-conscious all of a sudden despite the stabbing pain in your leg. The boulder hadn't crushed your limb, thank gods, but the ragged tear in your pants with the slightest tinge of red seeping through told you it had left a substantial gash in its wake. It was impossible to know without visualizing it how deep the laceration might be. But you knew hypothermia and bleeding were a deadly combination, so you had to get moving and get out of here fast. So, you began to sit up and pick yourself off the ground, gritting your teeth through the sharp sting in your leg.

"Why would you do that??" Loki demanded gazing at you as he propped himself up on his elbows.

"I s-saved your life! The least you could do is th-thank me!" you growled, starting to shiver as the snow seeped into your clothes. Loki shook his head, scrambling to his feet and ushering you inside the hole he blasted in the wall.

Inside the cavern, there was a hollow muffling of the storm that cleared your head just slightly. Despite the darkness, there was still better visibility in here than in the pure white wall of snow swirling in the air outside. You grasped the cavern wall as you limped into the shelter of the hollowed stone.

"You're injured."

"No shit, Sherlock." You leaned your back against the stone wall and slid carefully to the floor, allowing yourself a moment's reprieve to rest while sheltered from the harsh elements. Loki crouched down in front of you, brow furrowed in what you might have mistaken for worry had you not known him better.

"Allow me to take a look."

You shifted to lean on your hip so he could see the back of your leg, watching him warily out of the corner of your eye as he assessed the damage.

"I can probably heal it, but I can't do so without getting a better look at it."

"It'll have to w-wait until we get b-back," you stated resolutely. For once, Loki agreed with you. He knew as well as you did that you had to keep your layers on to prevent a dangerous drop in body temperature.

"Why would you do that?"

He wasn't shouting this time as he asked the same question he had moments ago. If anything, his voice was shallow. Meek. Quite uncharacteristic for the normally self-assured Asgardian.

"I saw the r-rocks up above. I t-tried to warn you, b-but it was too late."

"Clever mortal." Perhaps it was the blood loss, but he almost said the word as though it were a fond nickname. "I meant to ask, why would you save me?"

"You're my partner. We're in this together. I wasn't going to just let you get crushed under a rock slide."

Loki's blue-green eyes shimmered as though he had more questions, but he didn't press the issue. He merely tilted his chin down in a nod of thanks. You returned his gesture, your way of saying 'you're welcome.'

"Go see if you can find the artifact. I'm going to rest my leg for a minute before we have to head back in this mess."

Loki stood up, gazing at you for a moment longer than was necessary before turning and vanishing into the darkness of the cavern. You leaned your head back against the wall behind you and took in slow, deep breaths. The idea of going back out in this was daunting, but you knew if you remained here for too long you would catch your death from the cold. A brief rest wouldn’t hurt, you decided.

This worried, uncertain, dare you say grateful Loki was not the god you’d grown accustomed to over the last thirty-six hours. This Loki was certainly more bearable. Charming, even.

Ok, so maybe the cold was making you delirious.

Loki returned moments later with a stone slab in his hand. It was an unassuming object, but you felt the energy coming off it the moment it came within a ten-foot radius of where you sat.

“You found it.” Your voice was softer than usual, and Loki seemed to notice. He made the tablet disappear into whatever magical void pocket he had access to, pacing over to you and taking a seat next to you on the floor.

“You’re shivering.”

“Wow. Y-you should have b-b-been a detective. Y-you’re just f-f-full of ast-t-t… astute observations.”

Loki cracked what definitely looked like a smile, which only reinforced the fact that you we’re definitely becoming delirious. “I’ll let that one slide, but only because you’re injured.”

“Wow. G-g-going soft, L-Loki?”

“Don’t push it.” He glanced down at your leg, where more blood had seeped through your pants. “We have to get you back to the cabin.”

“Can’t I just r-rest for another m-minute?” It came out more whiny than you’d have liked.

“Thirty seconds. Then we get moving.” You let your eyes slip closed, and Loki reached over and shook your shoulder. “Eyes open. Don’t go sleeping on me.”

“B-But I’m exhausted…” Your eyes fluttered closed again, defying Loki’s orders.

“Alright.” Loki stood up, bending down to slide an arm around your waist and hoist you to your feet. “Thirty seconds is up. Let’s go.”

“Ugh. F-fine.” You allowed him to prop you against his side, throwing your arm around his neck for added stability as you hobbled toward the mouth of the cavern.

Even without the searing pain in your leg, you would have felt unsteady on your feet as Loki led you to the snowmobile. The wind stung the bare patches on your face as you stepped back out into the blizzard, and instinctively you tried to shrink back into the cavern. Loki wouldn't allow it, pressing forward and muttering something you couldn't quite hear over the howling wind.

He guided you to sit down first, keeping an arm wrapped tightly around your waist as he carefully helped lower you into the seat. You were shivering violently at this point from the cold, unable to control it as the frigid air seeped into your bones. You'd experienced cold weather before, but nothing as cold as this. Deep down, you knew Loki was right to be forcing you to keep moving - your only chance of survival was to get back to the cabin and rewarm your core temperature. But the icy wind was clouding your mind, and you were desperate in that moment just to get back into the dry cavern and take a nap.

Loki slid onto the seat behind you this time, leaning forward and reaching around you to grasp the handles and drive while still holding you steady. You didn't have the mental capacity to feel awkward or flustered by his closeness. His body heat was seeping into your back where he leaned against you to reach the handles, and primal instinct told you to accept it without question.

You barely remembered the drive back to the cabin. You knew you never lost consciousness, but you were in a sort of fuzzy state of mind as your body temperature continued to drop. It was probably for the best that you weren't fully cognizant of the borderline reckless driving maneuvers Loki was performing to get back as fast as possible.

The blizzard was wild as ever when you arrived at the safe house cabin. The vigorous shivering had slowed, which was a relief considering you were becoming more and more exhausted with each passing second. You were vaguely aware of Loki parking the snowmobile and dismounting it, then scooping you up effortlessly in his arms before carrying you inside. You didn't even protest. You just wanted to sleep.

Inside the cabin, the silence was deafening in comparison to the ear-splitting whistling wind outside that you'd been subjected to for the last hour and a half. The lack of snow slapping against your cheeks and dampening your clothes further was such a relief that your eyes slipped closed before Loki had even put you down.

"Hey! Stay with me. You can't sleep now," he barked, lowering you down onto the futon before busying himself restarting the fire in the fireplace. Your eyes snapped open briefly, then began to slide closed again of their own accord. You felt, more than saw, the fire roar to life in the hearth, the warmth bursting from the flames and warming your face. A hand clapped down on your shoulder and shook you with enough force to force your eyes open once again. "Talk to me. You need to stay awake."

"Ok..." you slurred groggily. Survival instinct was urging you to keep your eyes open, but it was just so damn difficult, and sleep sounded so wonderful right at this moment. "What now?"

"We need to get you out of these wet clothes first." Loki sounded uncertain for the first time since the start of this mission. It might have been the hypothermic delirium, but you swore you saw a tinge of red dusting his cheeks. Normally, you'd be mortified by what he was clearly suggesting, but you didn't have the energy to concern yourself with that sort of overwhelming emotion right now.

"S'okay. M'wearing c-compression shorts... should b-be dry..."

"Er, great."

You started fumbling with the zipper to your coat with trembling fingers, fighting to get a grip on the small piece of metal until Loki seemingly grew impatient and nudged your hands out of the way to do it himself. He was uncharacteristically gentle with you, carefully guiding your arms out of the sleeves and tossing the coat aside. He assisted with tugging the hem of your sweatshirt up over your head and removing it, leaving only a thinner T-shirt underneath it, which also seemed to be somewhat damp.

"I... you'll need to..." He gave you a look of awkward discomfort, gesturing to your shirt. You pointed to your bag with a tremulous hand.

"I h-h-have a d-dry shirt in m-m-my bag over th-there," you urged. Relieved for a reason to leave your side while you got to work removing your shirt, he knelt down beside your bag and pulled out one of your remaining T-shirts. His eyes flitted over to you briefly to ensure you were alright, barely suppressing a grin when he saw you sitting there with your shirt pressed against your front to hide yourself from him. He handed you the dry shirt, turning away until you pulled it on over your head and threaded your arms through the sleeves.

"How is your injured leg feeling?" he asked.

"Stings," you mumbled, already beginning to slide your torn snow pants down your hips. Underneath that you had worn tight fleece sweatpants, also torn by the boulder incident.

"Woah, hang on there," he stopped you, beginning to unlace your snow boots that were still on your feet. "You need to remove these first."

"R-right." You bent your uninjured leg to unlace your other boot as Loki tugged the first off carefully. Your socks, too, were completely soaked through, your feet numb. Loki helped to remove those as well. Normally you'd have had qualms about him touching your feet, but you didn't much care at the moment.

He allowed you to shakily slip both layers of pants down over your bottom, careful not to accidentally push down the waistband of your shorts, before he helped to tug the pants legs the rest of the way off.

"Wow, L-Loki. N-n-normally I d-don't let m-m-men undress me without at l-least taking me on a d-d-date."

Loki rolled his eyes at your jest, although you were pleased to see his cheeks turn redder at the insinuation. This was completely and utterly awkward in every way - humor was your method of deflecting. He would just have to put up with it. After all, it was him who was getting the benefit of seeing you sitting there in just a T-shirt and skin-tight compression shorts. He had to suffer at least a little in all of this.

"You're still shivering," he observed, changing the subject.

"Mmhmm... m-m-means I'm w-w-warming up th-though," you explained. "It's when the sh-sh-shivering st-stops that y-y-you're in t-t-trouble."

"Come closer to the fire," he ordered.

"M'fine right here- L-Loki!" Unwilling to take no for an answer, he wasted no time in scooping you up off the futon sofa and placing you on the floor directly in front of the fireplace. You'd never admit it, but it was a lot more comfortable. "J-j-jerk."

"If me being a 'jerk' helps keep you alive, I'll accept it." He shifted to kneel beside you, motioning for you to lean on your hip so he could better visualize the gash on your leg. It was a jagged-looking laceration just above the back of your knee, not deep enough to reach the tendons in your leg but certainly deep enough to cause quite a bit of bleeding. "I should be able to heal this. It may sting a bit."

You nodded solemnly, gritting your teeth as he let his hand hover close to the wound, a green glow emanating from his palm. The sudden shooting pain made you gasp, earning you an apologetic look from the Asgardian as he placed his other hand on your knee to keep you still. As he worked his magic, the pain gradually ebbed away.

"I'm s-sorry about all th-this." Your voice was hushed, ashamed. "You w-were right... I was j-j-just a b-burden to you."

Loki's blue-green eyes shot up from the wound to meet yours, a sternness behind them. "You did your part. You prevented me from meeting an untimely death due to my own reckless actions."

"But I h-hurt myself d-d-doing it. Now y-you feel responsible for m-m-me."

"Please. The least I can do is take care of you after what you did for me." He averted his gaze then, returning his attention to your wound. The air between you was tense, but in a much different way than it had been during the earlier parts of your stay. "I... thank you. For saving my life."

"Thank you f-for saving m-m-mine." His eyes raised to look at your face without tilting his head up, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Don't thank me yet. You're still hypothermic."

"I'll b-b-be fine."

The glow around Loki's hand faded as he finished his work, lifting his hand to reveal intact, uninjured skin where the gash had once been. He released your knee with his other hand, tracing his fingers along the path of the prior wound. You jerked your leg away from his tender touch, earning a look of confusion.

"Still hurts?" he asked. You shook your head, looking away to hide the blush forming on your face.

"T-tickled. Sorry."

"Ah."

You ventured a quick glance, noting the gleam in his eye as he filed that bit of information away in his mind, and wondered if you should have lied to the trickster god. Still, he didn't act on it as he rose to his feet and wandered into the kitchen, pulling two mugs out from the cupboards.

"You should drink something warm," he recommended. "What would you like?"

"Is there h-h-hot chocolate m-mix?"

He dug around in the cupboard a moment, pulling out a can and holding it up for you to see. "Is that what this disgusting sugar-laden powder is?"

"Y-yes. And it's n-n-not disgusting."

"Whatever you say, mortal. Just tell me what to do to make it."

You directed him to heat some water on the stove and simply pour the hot water into the mugs with the mix and stir. He opted to make himself tea instead, muttering something about 'ridiculous Midgardian inventions.' He couldn't possibly have heated the water so quickly without using magic, because only a minute later he was heading back with the two filled mugs, handing one to you. The ceramic burned against your ice cold fingers, and you immediately retracted your hand from the mug before he let go of it.

"Sorry." He instilled his magic into your mug, and the steam faded a bit as the liquid cooled slightly. Turning the mug, he was careful to hand it to you so you could grasp the handle.

"C-c-could you warm m-me up l-l-like that?" you asked jestingly.

"Unfortunately, no. That sort of sorcery is dangerous when performed incorrectly."

"Damn." You slowly sipped the warm liquid, wincing as it passed over your frozen lips but sighing as it warmed your throat. "Thanks for the hot ch-chocolate."

"It was hardly a challenge to make." He took a seat on the floor beside you, sipping his tea. The room was quiet for a moment, the only sound coming from the crackling of the fireplace and the occasional gust of wind blasting against the cabin walls. This silence wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as the tense moments the pair of you shared toward the beginning of your journey here. A question had been nagging at the back of your mind, and you finally built up the courage to ask.

"When I m-moved to the tower... aside from the f-fact you thought I hated you... what m-made you so c-cold toward me?"

"You sound ridiculous with your teeth chattering like that."

"And you're d-dodging the qu-question." You remained firm in your resolve, gazing at him with a tilt of your head in wait of an answer. Recognizing you weren't dropping this, he sighed.

"You were a blank slate. You had experienced none of my past treachery as the others did." His fingers tightened a bit around the handle of his mug. "I suppose I was afraid to ruin that by allowing you to form an opinion of me, by interacting with you. Obviously, my avoidance of you didn't help matters."

"Wh-what were y-you afraid I w-w-would think?"

Loki grimaced at your probing question. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly the most pleasant company."

"You weren't. B-before, at least. N-n-now, you're n-not so b-b-bad." You caught his eye and offered him a quivery grin, the best you could muster through your aggressive shivering. He let out a breath of a laugh through his nose, smiling weakly.

"Finish your liquid sugar. You should really get some rest."

"Oh, n-n-now I can s-sleep??" you griped jokingly.

"What you were trying to do earlier was slip into a coma. Now that I know you're improving, yes. You should sleep."

"Careful. I m-m-might start t-to think y-you care about me." You intended it as a joke, but Loki suddenly looked away from you, busying himself with cleaning up his mug. Odd.

As you finished the last sip of hot chocolate, Loki dragged your sleeping bag from your side of the room over to where you sat.

"You should sleep here by the fire. You're still clearly hypothermic."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me - I'm just getting tired of listening to your teeth chattering."

You opened your mouth to retort, but he shot you a wink and a smirk, letting you know it was a joke. With a shake of your head, you turned to unzip your sleeping bag, sliding inside the fleece fabric and zipping it around you.

"You're not g-gonna just sit there and w-watch me sleep, are y-you?" you asked with a side-eyed glare in his direction. Exasperated, Loki wandered over to his own sleeping bag and sat down on top of it, facing the opposite direction.

"Better?"

"Much. Th-thanks." You lay your head down against your makeshift pillow, closing your eyes and willing yourself to stop shivering long enough to fall asleep.

Never had you experienced such a deep-settling chill in your bones. Even lying directly in front of a blazing flame, wrapped in a fleece-lined sleeping bag wearing dry clothes, you still felt as if your insides were frozen. In a paradoxical way, it burned your skin as you began to gradually warm from the surface inward. You tossed and turned, trying desperately to get comfortable, but no matter how you shifted, you couldn't ignore the bitter cold keeping you awake.

You heard Loki release a sigh of vexation, followed by shifting of fabric against fabric and then heavy footsteps drawing nearer to you. Opening your eyes, you nearly jumped in surprise to find him crouched in front of you with a worried expression plastered to his face.

He reached out and laid the back of his hand against your cheek gently, wincing at the chill of your skin against his. Gods, his skin was so warm. It was ironic, really - him being a frost giant and all. It felt wonderful against your icy cheek. You leaned into his touch without even thinking - only following the innate desire to feel his warmth, and perhaps to feel a kind and tender touch against your skin after such a harrowing ordeal.

"You're still ice cold," he mumbled.

"Mm..." You let your eyes slip closed, letting out a tiny whine when he removed his hand from your cheek. Your eyes flew right back open when you heard the sound of the zipper on your sleeping bag, glancing at him in confusion. "What are you d-doing?"

"You're not warming fast enough," he responded plainly, sliding into the sleeping bag with you without further explanation.

"Oh - Loki, y-you d-don't have t-to... Oh. A-alright then."

Ignoring your attempted protests, he had settled in beside you inside your sleeping bag, zipping it closed around the both of you. If you had enough heat in your body to blush, you were certain your cheeks would be burning furiously.

And then he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his chest, and it just felt so damn good to feel his body heat against your own body, that you didn't even care how absolutely outlandish this situation had just become. An embarrassingly provocative-sounding moan bubbled up in your throat as you finally felt warm enough to stop shivering, and you didn't care one bit what Loki might think of it as you let your eyes flutter closed once again. You were vaguely aware of a throaty chuckle emanating from the god who had hijacked your sleeping bag, amused at your reaction but clearly not put off, as he merely wrapped his arms around you tighter. At last, you finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

It had been so long since you’d fallen asleep in the arms of another. The last person you fell asleep like this with was a former boyfriend of yours with whom you had an established relationship. And he certainly wasn’t trying to prevent you from slipping into a coma from hypothermia.

You barely knew Loki. In fact, only twenty-four hours ago you thought you hated each other. Everything about this should have felt awkward and uncomfortable - simply a necessary awkward situation to keep from freezing to death.

And yet, you hadn’t slept this comfortably in years.

As you traversed the blurred line between consciousness and unconsciousness the next morning, your mind began spinning. Now that you were warm, you were lucid enough to recognize the undeniable feeling of bliss when you realized Loki’s arms were still wrapped around you. It was an entirely unexpected feeling, which sent a wave of panic through your brain.

Were you even friends at this point? Only hours ago you were bickering with every attempted conversation. Though, you supposed that was only because you misunderstood one another. Now that you’d cleared the air, there hadn’t been any more fighting. And really, going through a life-or-death experience with someone had a curious way of accelerations a relationship between two people.

But was it friendship you felt? You’d never felt this peaceful in a friend’s arms. Never this happy either. And certainly never this conflicted.

You stirred slightly, and suddenly Loki’s grasp around you loosened just a bit to allow you to turn onto your back. He was awake already - seemingly had been for some time, as he didn’t have the drowsy glaze over his eyes that you were certain was currently in yours.

“Feeling better?” he asked quietly. His voice was low and gravelly, laden with the remnants of sleep as he spoke in your ear. It made you shiver.

“Yes.” You gave him a sleepy smile. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this. I know it must be… uncomfortable for you.”

“You saved my life, I saved yours. We’re even.” He turned his gaze away from you. “And it wasn’t… exceedingly uncomfortable.”

With your body temperature back within a physiologic range, so returned your blush reflex. You wished you could read what he was thinking at this moment. The fact that he hadn’t let go of you despite the fact you were clearly feeling better was both flustering and confusing.

What else does one say to the guy... god... who willingly snuggled up to you to stave off hypothermia after a tumultuous thirty-six hours that started off with you snapping at each other? The whole thing sounded absurd even in your head, and yet here you were sharing a sleeping bag that was clearly only meant for one person. There is no social protocol for this. So you did what you always did, and turned to humor to deflect.

"I didn't know gods snored."

"I beg your pardon?? I do not snore."

Grasping the familiarity of this friendly bantering, you grinned cheekily. "I beg to differ. You definitely did. Rather loudly, in fact."

Ok, so maybe loudly was a bit of an exaggeration, but you were telling him the truth.

His eyes narrowed, and his grip on you tightened. "I prevent you from freezing to death, and this is the thanks I get??"

You opened your mouth to provide a witty retort of some kind, but the sudden feeling of Loki's fingertips digging into your sides for a moment forced a rapid stream of giggles out instead. "Haha-hehehey!! Loki!!"

"You thought I would forget your little slip of the tongue last night, did you? Unwise of you to tease the God of Mischief when you're in such a precarious position, darling." You could see his smirk out of the corner of your eye as he wriggled his fingers into your sides once again, this time unrelenting as he pulled ticklish laughter from your lips. Your instinct was to turn onto your side and curl up in a ball, but you could barely move as it was inside the sleeping bag that held two people but was only large enough for one. He knew exactly what he was doing. He had you cornered, trapped with nowhere to go, nowhere to move.

"L-Lohoki this isn't faHAair!!" Your hands found his and began shoving desperately to push them away from your sides, but he wasn't budging. If anything, it only encouraged him as he dug his thumbs into the sides of your belly where they rested and toggled little circles into the pliant skin. "Yohou AHASS!"

"Insulting me now? Tsk, tsk."

He suddenly allowed his hands to go still against your sides as your communications device began to vibrate by your head. You knew before answering it would be Fury looking for a report. Turning your head enough to look at Loki, you gave him a sharp warning look, shaking your head as his impish smirk grew.

"Don't you dare."

"Answer it."

With a flustered groan, you hesitantly pulled your arm out of the sleeping bag and reached for the comms device, turning it on speaker.

"Director Fury."

"Have you succeeded in obtaining the artifact?"

Straight down to business, that one.

"Yes, we've secured it. No sign of the enemy." Loki's fingers twitched against your sides, and you barely suppressed a gasp as you shot him a wide-eyed look.

"Excellent."

"When will the quinjet be returning?" you asked.

"The blizzard is still ongoing. We won't be able to fly out until it clears. Hang tight."

You weren't sure if you were excited or anxious that you would be stuck here at least a while longer, alone with Loki. Likely a mix of both. Although, flustered was probably the best word for what you were feeling as his fingertips pressed threateningly into your sensitive sides.

"We'll be in touch when the jet is on route."

"Wait!"

You had said it without even thinking, trying to stall him on the phone to prolong the inevitable tickle attack that was to follow.

"What is it?"

"Uh... h-how's the weather over at headquarters?" You mentally facepalmed yourself for such a ridiculous stall tactic.

There was a beat of silence. "Warm."

"Oh. Well, lucky you, then! Doing anything fun later?"

"Is there a point to this conversation, agent?"

"Apologies," Loki suddenly interjected, lifting his head to lean over you to speak into the comms device. "The agent nearly caught her death yesterday from hypothermia. She's still rather delirious."

"Am no-HA-nohot!" A well-placed prodding of his fingers into your lowest ribs forced a few giggles to slip out. You glared at him.

"Alright. Well, take care of the agent until we're able to send the jet out. Can we count on you for that much, Loki?"

"Oh, don't worry." His smirk was practically wicked now as he gazed predatorily at you. "I'll take care of her."

"Thank you."

Click.

"No, no, noho, Lohoki, I know what you're think-IHING NOHO!!" Disregarding your protests, his fingers were all over you in an instant, wriggling into your sides and ribs as he sought out the spots that made you squirm and laugh harder. "WHAT DID I DOHO??"

"You dared to insinuate that I snore." He punctuated his response with a jab to your belly with all ten fingers, eliciting a shriek. "Not to mention you scared me half to death yesterday."

"I-hi dihid whahat??"

He paused in his torment a moment, allowing you to catch your breath. “You were on the brink of death last night.”

You struggled to turn over so you could look at him, with the added benefit of protecting your belly from his antsy fingers. He allowed it, keeping his arms wound tightly around you even after you successfully rolled to face him. You realized immediately it was a mistake. His face was mere inches from yours, his torso pressed against the front of yours as his hold tightened to keep you from escaping. A scalding heat rose from your neck through your cheeks to your ears. Gods he was close.

But did you really mind?

“Did it really scare you that much?” you asked quietly. His expression was unreadable as he pondered his response for a moment, then nodded. “Why?”

“I… I don’t know.” His eyes caught yours, softening as he gazed at you. You were beginning to wonder if this sudden burst of feelings you’d developed for him was reciprocated. How ridiculous would that be? A god caring for a mortal? He’d made it clear he thought of you as weak when you started this whole mission. But the look in his eyes right at this moment was not the look of someone who thought negatively of you.

“Are you sure you don’t know?” you probed, trying to get a straight answer. Loki took it as a tease, his expression morphing to a mischievous grin as his fingers dug into the backs of your ribs. You screeched, not believing how incredibly ticklish you were in that spot as you shoved your hands against his chest desperately.

“Perhaps this would have been a more effective method of raising your temperature,” he teased, clearly recognizing how severe your squirming had become and honing in on his new favorite spot. You couldn't have retorted even if you had the wherewithal to come up with something clever to say. The unbridled laughter he was pulling from you prevented you from speaking. Finding little success in pushing him away, you buried your face in his shoulder and let the sensation overtake you as your laughter became breathless.

His fingers slowed and then stopped, grip tightening to hold you close against his chest. Neither of you knew what to say, so you didn't bother trying. You simply breathed him in as you lay limp in his arms recovering from his vicious attack.

When you finally did tilt your head back to look at his face, you suddenly felt incredibly shy under the weight of his gaze. He studied your features in silence, an unreadable expression on his face.

You wanted nothing more than to kiss him. Right here, right now.

And the thought made you panic.

"I... I should get up and get something to eat," you mumbled, averting your gaze and moving to untangle yourself from his arms. He let you, reaching over to unzipper the sleeping bag to allow you to get up. You recalled, as you stood up, that you were still only wearing your shorts and T-shirt. Clearing your throat awkwardly, you added, "And I should go put on something warmer."

"Yes... that would be wise." He was staring, making your face feel hot. You scurried to your bag and grabbed a change of clothes, disappearing into the solitude of the bathroom and wondering what the hell had happened between yesterday and today to make you fall so hard.

Once you’d come out of the bathroom in your jeans and sweater, you headed directly to the small kitchen without a glance in Loki’s direction. If you didn’t look at him, maybe you would just forget about that fleeting thought you had of kissing him. Because, really, that could only end poorly for both of you.

Right?

There was no milk or eggs, really no breakfast food whatsoever. You began sifting through the cabinets for anything remotely breakfast-y, finding a stale box of cereal that you pulled down from the cupboard. As you reached up to poke through the cabinets for a bowl, two fingers began scratching directly at the center of your underarms, causing you to slam your arms down to your sides with a squeak. A rumbling laugh sounded behind you. Not that you needed it to know who it was.

“Loki! Are you going to be doing this all day?” you demanded. Deep down, you didn’t mind all that much, having his attention. But you’d never allow him to think that was the case.

“Perhaps. I need to keep myself entertained somehow in this wretchedly boring cabin.” He swiftly reached over and pinched your side outside of your field of vision, and you buckled away from his touch with a half-hearted glare. “I came over here to stop you from eating that garbage.”

“Oh? And what exactly do you propose we eat?”

Loki didn’t answer verbally - he merely held out his hand, palm facing upward, and conjured a carton of eggs out of nowhere. You cocked your head in surprise.

“How did you do that?”

“You’re not the only one who knows how to prepare for a mission.” He shot you a wink. “I wasn’t about to chance the possibility of having to live off of that.” He gestured to the box of cereal on the counter.

“Oh. Well, great!”

Somehow, the fact that he had actually done some prep work before this mission made him even more attractive to you. But you shoved that thought right to the back corner of your mind.

“Wait…” you narrowed your eyes in realization. “Why didn’t you tell me this until today? We’ve been eating this crap food for the last two days!”

“Admittedly, it was a petty desire to make you suffer.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He chuckled. “I apologize. You obviously have proven you didn’t deserve that.”

“Well… thanks. I guess.”

“Allow me to make it up to you. Sit - I’ll cook breakfast.”

“Uh… sure! I’m not going to argue that.”

Who was this and what had he done with the real Loki? This… imposter was far from the sullen, grumpy god you started this mission with. It certainly wasn’t helping you to push down your feelings for him. If anything, it was making them harder to control.

Loki cooked breakfast as promised, then sat down with you at the table to eat together. It was amazing, really, how having to share a sleeping bag somehow managed to break the ice between the two of you. It was much less of a challenge to pull conversation from the god this morning. He chatted with you about life in Asgard, and you told him more about your time before becoming a field agent of SHIELD. All in all, it was a pleasant morning, despite the circumstances.

But peace never lasts long when you're an agent of SHIELD.

A sudden distant whirring noise sounded outside the cabin. At first, you thought maybe you were hearing things, but as it grew louder, even Loki appeared mildly concerned. He stood from the table, striding swiftly over to the window to peer through the sheets of snow outside.

"They found us."

"What?" You stood, hurrying to join him at the window. "Who found us?"

"The enemy - those Zealot idolizers Fury warned us about. They're fast approaching." He turned from the window to face you, a stern look on his face. "The tablet is hidden and safe for the time being. Stay inside - allow me to dispose of them."

"What? No, I'm coming with you!"

He shook his head firmly. "No. You're still recovering. I won't have you putting yourself in harm's way once again."

"But-"

His hand shot out and grabbed hold of your wrist, grasping it tightly but not enough to hurt you. You fell silent, gazing down at his fingers wrapped around your arm for a moment before lifting your gaze to meet his. There was an unease in his eyes you'd not seen before.

"Stay. Allow me to take care of this." He lifted his other hand, conjuring a dagger with a glow of green light. "Take this." He turned your wrist to tilt your palm upwards, pressing the hilt into your hand and guiding your fingers closed around it. "I understand you are skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but please don't hesitate to use it if you require something a bit more..."

"Lethal?" you finished. He nodded. You sighed. "Fine. I'll stay here. But I'll be watching from the window - if there's any sign of them getting the best of you, make no mistake, I will be coming after them."

Loki chuckled, grinning weakly. "You doubt my ability to lay waste to these mortals?"

"Just... don't be reckless."

He nodded, holding your gaze for another moment without a word. A final nod, and he spun around and burst through the door to face the enemy head-on.

The source of the whirring sound finally came into view, only barely visible to you through the ongoing blizzard. A man and a woman sat aboard a snowmobile of their own, skidding to a halt in front of the cabin and leaping off the vehicle to their feet. You couldn't hear what was being said, but Loki was speaking to them, likely telling them to leave (though surely in more violent terms.) Only moments later, the metal of Loki's daggers flashed as he flicked his wrists and whipped them into view, clasped tightly in his hands. And then the fight commenced.

These enemies may not have had the dimensional manipulation capabilities that the Zealots had, but they certainly fought formidably. Loki's limbs and blades were a blur as he slashed and swung at the pair of them, but they, too, had blades of their own. The clanging of metal against metal echoed over the howling wind of the blizzard as Loki fought them both expertly. He kicked out and slammed his boot into the woman's stomach, focusing his energy on the man who had now rounded behind him to try to slash at him while he was vulnerable. The woman leapt to her feet, stalking powerfully toward Loki to dive back into the fray.

Suddenly, her eyes flashed toward the cabin. And they caught yours.

You ducked down, but you knew it was too late. She'd seen you. She knew you were hiding, and she would surely be coming after you now. What she didn't know was that you could fight. And she certainly didn't know you had a blade. You concealed the blade in your sleeve, keeping it hidden from view as the door burst open and the woman stepped inside.

She was taller than you, with a muscular build and a fierce scowl on her face. You didn't wait for her to come after you - the moment she entered the cabin, you charged full force and slammed a fist into her stomach. The blow barely phased her, and she bit back with a foot to your hip, sending you reeling. Stumbling, you regained your balance and rushed at her once again. Fists flying, legs swinging, you locked her in a fierce battle of manual combat.

Either she was toying with you, or she didn't want to risk causing you mortal injury just yet, because not once did she aim her blades at you. Not that it mattered - she was obviously miles more skilled than you in combat, made evident by her persistent ability to beat you down without once using her fists. A back blow with her forearm, a shove with the sole of her boot - that was all she needed to send you staggering and toppling to the floor. But you would give yourself one thing - you maintained that fierce grit and determination you prided yourself on as you picked yourself up time and time again to launch yourself at the villain.

Eventually, she became fed up with you.

"Enough of this," she barked, suddenly swinging her leg aggressively to strike your side with her heel, the force of it knocking you to the ground. She was on you in seconds, shoving her weight into pinning you flat on the floor and pressing a blade to your neck. Your eyes widened only for a moment, then narrowed determinedly despite your clear disadvantage. You were not going to die a coward.

"Do it," you hissed.

"Get up." Removing the blade from your throat, she grabbed you above the elbow and wrenched you to your feet, yanking your arm behind your back and replacing the dagger at your neck.

"What are you playing at??" you demanded.

It didn't take long to figure it out.

The door slammed all the way open once again, a dark-haired, regal figure bursting in with a cloud of snow surrounding him. Loki's eyes landed on you, traveling down to the blade at your throat. He lowered his arms, suddenly trying to appear less threatening despite the fire in his eyes.

"Give up. I've already taken care of your partner. You've lost," he growled. The woman laughed maniacally, the sound making you cringe.

"Please. He wasn't my partner. He was my subordinate." Her hand tightened on your arm, the sharp edge of the dagger pressing harder into your neck. "Give me the tablet, or I'll kill her."

A panicked look flashed across his face. He took a cautious step forward, not brandishing his weapons but clearly trying to appear powerful with his strong stride.

"I suggest you reconsider, before you make a dire mistake."

"Take one more step and this blade slices her throat."

You gasped as the dagger cut into your skin, standing up straighter to try to reduce the pressure of the blade against your throat. Loki stopped dead in his tracks, that same glint of fear in his eyes. The tension of her arm around your neck loosened slightly at the realization that he was relenting.

"Where is it?" she demanded.

"Loki, don't give it to her!" you cried, sucking in a breath as she tensed once again in retaliation. Loki's brow furrowed in both anger and frustration. Hanging his head in defeat, he lifted his hand, dagger vanishing and the tablet appearing in its place.

"Hand it over. Now."

"Loki!!" You twisted a bit in her grasp, stopping immediately as the dagger further sliced your skin. "Don't. It's not... I'm not worth it."

His head shot up to look at you, then. A blazing fury filled his eyes, but it was directed at you.

"Never say that to me again."

He held out his hand, slowly pacing toward your captor with the tablet in offering for your release. Her grip on you loosened gradually the closer he came with her prize. You had only seconds before she would have it in her possession, and while you clearly couldn't get away with offering your life to prevent it, you weren't going to let him just hand it over without a fight.

It would be a short window of opportunity, you knew, but you had to try.

You allowed the dagger you had concealed in your sleeve to slip down into your hand, fingers tightening around the hilt as Loki approached with the tablet. Your captor released your arm to reach for the prize, her other arm loosening around your neck as she leaned forward to retrieve it. In a flash, you flipped the dagger so the blade pointed behind you, slamming your fist into her stomach and driving the blade into her abdomen.

She doubled over, and that was all the time you needed to duck out of her grasp. Loki was on her instantaneously, the tablet vanishing back into the void in a green flash of light as he reached down and grabbed a fistful of her collar in his hand, lifting her easily from the ground. His blue-green eyes practically glowed red as he whipped around and marched her outside.

"You deserve a much slower death than I have patience to offer you," he growled. With that, he placed her feet on the ground and slammed her with a burst of seidr, sending her careening meters away from the cabin. Her back struck a rock wall before she slumped to the ground, a mountain of snow tumbling down from the ledge above from the impact. Then, it was silent.

Once certain she wasn't getting up, Loki whirled around and re-entered the cabin, shutting the door behind him before sweeping across the room to you. His hands grasped your waist tightly, as though worried you might float away if he didn't hold you down on the ground.

"Are you alright?"

You nodded, grasping hold of his arms above his elbows and clinging to him. Those eyes. Gods, the way he was looking at you made you weak in the knees. That same demanding voice in the back of your mind wanted you to kiss him so badly.

And this time, you listened to it.

Surging forward, you smashed your lips against his, kissing him frantically. He melted into your kiss the moment your lips captured his, hands sliding around the small of your back and tugging you closer to lean against him. You let your hands slide up his arms to slip around his neck, lacing your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. A seductive growl of appreciation resounded in his throat as his hands slid down your hips to the backs of your legs. He hoisted you effortlessly off the ground and guided you to wrap your legs around his waist. Your grip around his neck tightened to steady yourself on instinct, pressing yourself flush against his chest.

He was intoxicating in the most wonderful way. His mouth moved against yours perfectly, his teeth nipping occasionally at the plump skin of your bottom lip with just enough force to make you gasp, but not enough to hurt. He stumbled over to the futon with you still wrapped around him, falling backward onto the seat and eliciting a squeal of surprise from your lips. It made him laugh low in his chest, his hands sliding back to rest on your hips as you shifted to kneel over his lap.

Kissing Loki was desperate and frantic and passionate. He kissed you as though he feared losing you if he didn't press his lips hard enough against yours. You clung to him tightly, drinking him in as though you'd been awaiting a taste of this you're entire life. This delirious euphoria he'd instilled in you was more than enough to chase away the effects of the turmoil you'd experienced through this entire trying mission. He wanted you. And that was an incredible feeling.

Loki's hand slid firmly up your back to clasp around your neck, tugging you closer to deepen the kiss. He was leaving you breathless, but you didn't want to separate from him long enough to take a breath. Eventually, though, the need for oxygen forced you to part your lips from his to stop your head from spinning.

Loki, too, was gasping a bit for air, causing a grin to spread across your face as you pressed your forehead to his.

"You... you're a damn good kisser," you breathed, earning a chuckle from the god.

"What did you expect, darling? I'm a literal god."

"Yeah... God of Mischief," you retorted with a laugh.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He sat up a bit, his hand at your neck returning to your waist.

"Isn't mischief kind of the opposite of passion and romance?" You were teasing him now, knowing it was getting to him. Unfortunately, it backfired, as a smirk spread across his face and caused your stomach to flip.

"I suppose I should just stick to mischief then, hmm?"

Before you could react, he was pinching at your sides with his thumbs and index fingers, laughing evilly as you shrieked and burst into giggles. Your instinct wasn't to try to escape, but to lean into him as he teased out the spots that made you jolt and squeak.

"LOKI! YOU'RE RU-AHAH-RUINING A MOHOMENT!!"

"Am I? I was under the impression that you started this." He pinched his way up your sides, suddenly adding his other fingers to grab at your ribs and dig into the crevices with his fingertips. You leaned sideways, and he swiftly flipped you onto your back against the sofa cushions beside him as he continued his ticklish onslaught.

"No, noho, NO!!" You hooked your fingers around his hands at your ribs and tugged, squirming in an effort to prevent him from shifting to kneel over your hips. He easily managed to evade your attempts, planting his weight down on your legs to pin you down as he scribbled into your belly. With a buck of your hips, you dissolved into ticklish laughter as his fingertips preyed on the sensitive skin of your abdomen, skittering and clawing in search of a more dramatic reaction. And he succeeded, fingers grazing over the spot just above your waistline where you suddenly began to fight much harder for your escape. That classic Loki smirk crossed his face as he devilishly slipped his fingers under the hem of your shirt to flutter against your bare skin in that hypersensitive spot.

"Is this mischievous enough to live up to my title?" he demanded teasingly, clearly pleased with himself for drawing such desperate laughter from you.

"NOHO!"

"No?" He paused a moment to think, allowing you to breathe. You immediately began shaking your head pleading with him that you didn't mean it as a response to his clearly rhetorical question as he ignored you and shifted his weight further back on your legs. With a knowing grin, he slid his fingers between the seat cushion and your leg, poised to strike at the underside of your thigh where you'd given yourself away in the first place.

"W-WAHAIT!! Loki! Wahait a minute!" you pleaded through anticipatory giggles. He gazed at you expectantly, his fingers resting motionless against his new target.

"Something to say?" he asked.

"I..."

"Are you asking me to stop?" His smirk returned as he watched your internal conflict play out on your face. Is that what you wanted? He was far too good at wheedling out your weak spots, but did you mind? This playfulness, this flirty little game he'd started with you, was perhaps exactly what you needed right at this moment.

"I... you..."

"Time's up."

His fingers sprang back into action, scratching at the ticklish skin along the back of your thigh. You sat up on instinct, fumbling for his hands as laughter poured from your lips, but he wasn't having any of it. Now that he knew you didn't mind this little game, he was going to play until you inevitably declared him the winner. So his fingers found your ribs for a brief moment, long enough to make you fall back against the sofa before continuing his attack on your leg.

"LOHOKI JUST KIHISS ME! PLEHEASE!!" you begged frantically. His fingers stilled, a sultry look in his eyes as he returned his attention to your face. With a seductively handsome grin, he slowly crawled to hover over you, hands pressed against the sofa at either side of your head.

"How could I possibly decline such a request?"

Loki ducked down and captured your lips with his, and you immediately wrapped your arm around his neck to pull him in closer. His skin felt cool now against your blushing lips. Your mind went hazy as you succumbed to his kiss, melting as his lips trailed from yours along your jawline, giggling when he kissed the soft skin of your neck. He leaned back a bit to grin at you, a similarly hazy look in his eyes to what you were feeling, before leaning back down and pressing feather-light kisses to your neck.

"Yohohou tehease, Loki!" you scolded half-heartedly, shrugging your shoulder in a fruitless attempt to block his tickly kisses. He merely trailed down to your collarbone, a surprisingly sensitive spot that made your giggles pitch up in octave, much to his pleasant surprise. A few more well-placed pecks along this newfound spot, and you finally decided to retaliate, your fingers fluttering lightly at his neck where they rested.

To your surprise, he flinched hard, a small laugh escaping his lips at the unexpected sensation. He lifted his head to meet your gaze, a dangerous look flashing in his eyes at the sight of your triumphant expression.

"Oh, darling - you're asking for it now."

A sudden scratching under your outstretched arm made you screech and contract instinctively, resultantly yanking him down closer to you. He took advantage of the sudden shifting off-balance, allowing his weight to simply drop onto you and pin you down so his previously supporting hand could find purchase on your ribs, his other hand continuing its assault under your arm. You could barely squirm with the weight of a god against the length of your body, which made every dig of his fingertips into your skin that much more unbearably ticklish as you laughed wildly. As his fingers at your ribs hooked around to that hypersensitive spot he'd discovered earlier toward your back, he pressed another ticklish kiss to your neck, driving you into silent, breathy laughter. He tormented you just a moment longer before halting his attack, lifting his weight off you slightly to gaze down at your disheveled form and grinning face.

"Alright, love?" he asked, his tone filled with adoration for you. You merely nodded, unable to find your voice just yet as you gasped for breath. You were more than alright. This was euphoric bliss, having him this close to you, tickling you silly and kissing you breathless. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before shifting his weight off of you, wedging himself between the back of the sofa and your body so he could pull you into his chest.

"M'tired now," you grumbled half-heartedly. A rumbling laugh vibrated in his chest against your back.

"Then rest, darling. I'll be right here."

And so you did, allowing your eyes to drift closed and your breath to slow and deepen. The last few days had been overwhelming, and you hadn't realized how the exhaustion had caught up to you until this very moment. It wasn't long at all before you slipped into a peaceful sleep, wrapped safely in Loki's arms.

* * *

Loki kept his promise - remaining at your side while you took quite possibly the longest nap you'd ever taken. Hours later, when you finally did awaken, you heart skipped at the realization that his arm was still wrapped tightly around you. This time, it wasn't awkward in the least. This time, you knew he wanted you, and you wanted him.

What a whirlwind of a relationship.

You stirred, turning onto your back to look at the god keeping you warm in his embrace. He smiled, and you pressed a slow, sleepy, drunk-like kiss to his lips.

"Sleep well?" he asked.

"Mmhmm." You greedily went in for another kiss, and he allowed it, pulling you to lay on top of him as he rolled onto his back. His sleep-warmed hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers tracing gentle patterns along the bare skin of your back with just enough pressure to keep from tickling you, but light enough to leave goosebumps in their wake. You sighed contentedly into his lips, and he grinned against your mouth, continuing on his mission to make you feel good and relishing in the little shivers he elicited from you as his fingers drifted lazily up and down your spine.

Your comms device began buzzing where it sat on the floor. With an annoyed groan, you shifted to lift yourself from the warmth of Loki's embrace, but he tightened his grasp, capturing your lips once again.

"Mm'Loki! I have to - mmpf - I have to answer it!"

"Mm-mm. You're not going anywhere." He stole another kiss, and you allowed it briefly, then wriggled your fingers into his sides. With a bark of a laugh and a jolt, his hold on you loosened long enough for you to slip out of his grasp and move to the comms device, shooting him a cheeky grin as you picked it up off the floor. He sat up, sending you a playful glare. "You'll pay for that later."

"Director Fury," you stated, ignoring Loki's threat but unable to prevent the heat from creeping into your cheeks.

"Agent. I hope you're a bit less delirious now."

You rolled your eyes, glaring at Loki. "Yes, much better, thank you."

"Good. The storm has lifted, and we'll be coming to get you within the hour. We heard about your little run-in with the Zealot idolizers."

"Don't worry. The tablet is safe - we took care of them."

"Excellent work. Be prepared to board the jet when it arrives. We're on a tight schedule." With that, he hung up, no hint of a goodbye. Typical Fury.

You stood, moving to your bag to start packing up your belongings. As you folded up your clothes to pack them away, two hands latched onto your ribs from behind, digging into the spaces.

"HEHEY! Loki! Sahave it for LAHATER! I have to pack!"

"Just throw everything in there, it's not that difficult," he urged, halting in his attack. You looked at him incredulously.

"Just throw everything in there? Do you even know me at all, Loki?? I can't just throw things into my bag haphazardly, it has to be organized!"

"Yes, I know, I know..." he sighed. "I know you're a perfectionist when it comes to preparedness."

"Thank you." You turned back to your packing, yelping when suddenly your belongings folded themselves on their own accord and stacked neatly into your bag, the zipper closing over them. You whipped around to find Loki grinning impishly, his hand still with a slight residual glow from performing his seidr.

"Now then - now that that's finished..." He tugged you to your feet, snaking his arms around you and pulling you in for a passionate kiss. You squeaked in surprise, but melted into his lips shortly thereafter. He broke apart from your lips to flash you that handsome grin of his. "Since you're so worried I don't know you well enough, why don't we work on that, hmm?"

Heat blossomed in your cheeks under his intense gaze. "You'll have to wait a little while to know me that well," you insisted, a teasing grin spreading across your face.

"Oh, naturally," he agreed. "But we have an hour to kill. And I don't intend to waste a moment of it."

You spent the next hour truly getting to know one another. Talking and trading stories, interlaced with many more passionate kisses. Perhaps more kisses than stories, really. And, maybe, you weren't quite as prepared to board the jet as you normally would have liked to be when it arrived.

You found that, for once, you didn't really mind.

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